Spring Turkeys

Well, I came to Mt. Madonna with the idea of experiencing life in spiritual community, inspired by a love for social dynamics and my own spiritual quest. I am embarrassed to have not included the natural world in that definition, except at the conceptual level, until now. But now, here we are, all the animals and all the people and all the plants and myself. They, carrying on around me, doing their own important work while barely paying any attention to me. Far from relying upon us or anything we might provide, the animals simply tolerating us and allowing us to share their space. Humbling indeed. So, I guess my exploration of the concept of community is expanding everyday. And lately, the natural cycles of this community have brought wild turkeys in hot pursuit around my home and I want to share it with you!

Last summer was my first experience of turkeys roaming wild in the forest. Now, where I grew up in Virginia was actually poultry country—we had a poultry parade and a poultry queen every spring and one of the rival high schools had a turkey as a mascot (the Broadway Gobblers). But turkeys walking around in numbers, grazing on the lawn at dusk, and even roosting in the tall redwoods in the evenings, is not the same thing as a truckload of squashed, feathered bodies, or even a bunch of turkeys on a farm. So, last summer I became acquainted with these wild birds. In the morning light of my previous house, I would sit with my breathing practice, and hear rustling leaf-crunching outside. Looking out, I would see a dozen or so birds, an orderly family traipsing up through the canyon, the baby turkeys distinguished only by their smaller size. They were so cute! Just a miniature version of the adult birds, walking double-time to keep up.

Now that almost a year has passed, they are all the same size as they ruffle through the woods, kicking leaves as they peck around for food. All the same size, that is, until the male birds start their posturing. This is the part that is blowing my mind lately, because their mating shows are amazing! First is the size and embellishment –the toms go from mediocre color and size to the stoutest, most solid beasts you can imagine. In full presentation, their covering looks not like feathers, but more like fur or fat to me. The iridescence and patterning on their bodies is completely surprising, with layers and textures and gorgeous detail. They turn and display and hold open the show and I wonder to myself if this requires muscle, or concentration, or maybe some chemical, to pull this off. It seems it would be tiring.

Meanwhile, the lady turkeys are either: 1) very good at multi-tasking, 2) unimpressed and not even bothering to look, or 3) putting on a very good show of their own by playing aloof. They wander on, kicking leaves and apparently focused only on grazing. This also amazes me, because even if the ladies don’t notice the plumage, the sound is just as convincing. The gobbling, which sounds comical at a distance, is thunderous and arresting up close. The deep bass quality seems to be pulsing out of a barrel in their chests. And the after-echo reminds me of a big rock being dropped into a lake. And then, after a quick running start, they flick open their tails with an impressive humming vibration. This sound I would liken to the light-saber sound effect in Star Wars as it slices the air. I actually heard this sound a few times before seeing it; this time, I sat in my house, debating the relative level of my sanity (once again that is—it’s a daily habit to be honest…) and trying to figure out what I might discover, before peering out my door and being treated to the best backyard nature show ever. (cue David Attenborough).

Well, the Gobblers certainly make more sense to me as a proud, formidable mascot. And I have also learned that turkeys are considered very sacred animals in the Native American tradition, representing renewal, fertility, and gratitude and sometimes symbolizing psychic abilities, much like the peacock. Seeing their display, I remembered the stepping, fanning, drumming dance I've seen at Native American pow wows and could finally understand the powerful spiritual connection. What fascinating and surprising creatures.

I got some great photos from my window after they walked around my house, and even some video so you can see the dance—step, step, step, WHIRR! The stills show 2 toms vying for the attention of a female, but by the time I took video, the male with the notch in his tailfeathers had already outlasted the other and took the center stage.

Who needs TV around here?