Part 37

Of the many accounts respecting the life of the Wild Turkey of North America, none is more excellent than the following from the pen of Audubon:--"The unsettled parts of the States of Kentucky, Ohio, Illinois, and Indiana, an immense extent of country to the north-west of those districts upon the Mississippi and Missouri, and the vast regions drained by these rivers from their confluence to Louisiana, including the wooded parts of Arkansas, Tennessee, and Alabama, are most abundantly supplied with this magnificent bird. It is less plentiful in Georgia and the Carolinas, becomes still scarcer in Virginia and Pennsylvania, and is now very rarely seen to the east of the last-mentioned States." It is already extirpated from the thickly-peopled portions of the continent.

"The Turkey," continues Audubon, "is irregularly migratory, as well as irregularly gregarious. When the supply of food in one portion of the country happens greatly to exceed that of another, the Turkeys are insensibly led towards that spot, by gradually meeting in their haunts with more fruit the nearer they advance towards the place where it is most plentiful. In this manner flock follows after flock, until one district is entirely deserted, while another is, as it were, overflowed by them.

"About the beginning of October, when scarcely any of the seeds and fruits have yet fallen from the trees, these birds assemble in flocks, and gradually move towards the rich bottom-lands of the Ohio and the Mississippi. The males, or as they are more commonly called, the 'gobblers,' associate in parties of from ten to a hundred, and search for food apart from the females; while the latter are seen advancing singly, each with its brood of young, then about two-thirds grown, or in connection with other families, forming parties amounting to seventy or eighty individuals, all intent on shunning the old cocks, which, even when the young birds have attained this size, will fight with and often destroy them by repeated blows on the head. Old and young, however, all move in the same course and on foot, unless their progress be interrupted by a river, or the hunter's dog force them to take wing. When they come to a river they betake themselves to the highest eminences, and there often remain a whole day, or sometimes two, as if for the purpose of consultation. During this time the males are heard gobbling, calling, and making much ado, and are seen strutting about as if to raise their courage to a pitch befitting the emergency. Even the females and young assume something of the same pompous demeanour, spread out their tails and run round each other, purring loudly and performing extravagant leaps. At length, when the weather appears settled, and all around is quiet, the whole party mount to the tops of the highest trees, whence, at a signal consisting of a single cluck given by a leader, the flock takes flight for the opposite shore. The old and fat birds easily get over, even should the river be a mile in breadth; but the young and less robust frequently fall into the water, not to be drowned, however, as might be imagined. They bring their wings close to their body, spread out their tail as a support, stretch forward their neck, and striking out their legs with great vigour, proceed rapidly towards the shore, on approaching which, should they find it too steep for landing, they cease their exertions for a few moments, float down the stream until they come to an accessible part, and by a violent effort generally extricate themselves from the water. It is remarkable that immediately after thus crossing a large stream, they ramble about for some time as if bewildered; in this state they fall an easy prey to the hunter.

"When the Turkeys arrive in parts where food is abundant, they separate into smaller flocks, composed of birds of all ages and both sexes, promiscuously mingled, and devour all before them. This happens about the middle of November. So gentle do they sometimes become after these long journeys, that they have been seen to approach the farmhouses, associate with the Domestic Fowls, and enter the stables and corn-cribs in quest of food. In this way, roaming about the forests, and feeding chiefly on mast, they pass the autumn and part of the winter.

"As early as the middle of February the females separate and fly from the males, the latter strenuously pursue, and begin to gobble or to utter their notes of exultation. The sexes roost apart, but at no great distance from each other. When a female utters a call-note, all the gobblers within hearing return the sound, rolling note after note with as much rapidity as if they intended to emit the first and last together, not with spread tail, as when fluttering round the females on the ground, or practising on the branches of the trees on which they have roosted for the night, but much in the manner of the Domestic Turkey, when an unusual or unexpected noise elicits its singular hubbub. If the call of the female comes from the ground, all the males immediately fly towards the spot, and the moment they reach it, whether the hen be in sight or not, spread out and erect their tail, draw the head back on the shoulders, depress their wings with a quivering motion, and strut pompously about, emitting at the same time a succession of puffs from the lungs, and stopping now and then to listen and look, but whether they spy the female or not they continue to puff and strut, moving with as much celerity as their ideas of ceremony seem to admit. While thus occupied the males often encounter each other, in which case desperate battles take place, ending in bloodshed and often in the loss of many lives, the weaker falling under the blows inflicted upon the head by the stronger. The moment a rival is dead the conqueror treads him under foot, but what is strange, not with hatred, but with all the motions which he employs in caressing the female.

"About the middle of April, when the season is dry, the hens begin to look out for a place to deposit their eggs. This place requires to be as much as possible concealed from the eyes of the Crow, as that bird watches the Turkey when going to her nest, and, waiting in the neighbourhood until she has left it, removes and eats the eggs. The nest, which consists of a few withered leaves, is placed on the ground, in a hollow scooped out by the side of a log, or in the fallen top of a dry leafy tree, under a thicket of sumach or briars, or a few feet within the edge of a cornbrake, but always in a dry place. When laying her eggs the female approaches her nest very cautiously, scarcely ever following the same track twice, and when she leaves them covers them so carefully with leaves that it is very difficult for any person to find the nest, unless the mother has been suddenly started from it. When on her nest, if she perceives an enemy, she sits still and crouches low until the intruder has passed by, unless she is aware that she has been discovered."

"I have frequently," says Audubon, "approached within five or six paces of a nest, of which I was previously aware, assuming an air of carelessness, and whistling or talking to myself, the female remaining undisturbed; whereas if I went cautiously towards it, she would never suffer me to approach within twenty paces, but would run off, with her tail spread on one side, to a distance of twenty or thirty yards, when, assuming a stately gait, she would walk about deliberately, uttering now and then a cluck."

The mother seldom abandons her nest on account of its having been disturbed by man, but if robbed by a snake or other wild animal she never approaches it again. If her brood has been destroyed, she lays a second set of eggs, but usually rears only one brood in the season. Sometimes several mothers lay their eggs in the same nest. Audubon once found three sitting upon forty-two eggs. In such a case one or other of the females always keeps guard over the nest, to prevent the approach of the weaker kind of enemies. When nearly hatching, the hen will not leave her eggs for any consideration, and will rather allow herself to be fenced in than desert her nest. Audubon tells us he once witnessed the hatching of a brood of Turkeys.

"I concealed myself," he says, "on the ground, within a very few feet, and saw the female raise herself half the length of her legs, look anxiously upon the eggs, cluck with a sound peculiar to the mother on such occasions, carefully remove each half-empty shell, and with her bill caress and dry the young birds that already stood tottering and attempting to make their way from the nest. I saw them all emerge from the shell, and in a few moments after tumble, roll, and push each other forward, with astonishing and inscrutable instinct."

Before the old bird leaves the nest she shakes herself violently, preens her feathers, and assumes quite a different appearance; she raises herself, stretches out her neck, and glances about and around to detect any enemy that may be nigh, spreads her wings, and clucking softly, endeavours to keep her young family together. As the brood are usually hatched in the afternoon, they often return and spend the first night in the nest, but afterwards remove to higher undulating ground, the mother dreading the effects of rain on her young, which seldom survive if thoroughly wetted at this tender age, when their only covering is a soft, delicate, hairy down. In about fourteen days the young birds, which till this time had rested on the ground, are able to fly to some low branch, and pass the night under the sheltering wings of their mother. A little later they leave the woods during the day, and search the prairies and glades for berries of various kinds, and grasshoppers. The young now rapidly increase in size and strength, and about the month of August are able to escape the attacks of their four-footed enemies by rising from the ground to the highest branches of the trees. About this time young and old assemble together and begin their pilgrimage.

Wild Turkeys will sometimes feed and associate with tame ones, whose owners are glad to welcome them, the half-breed being much the most hardy, and easily reared.

"While at Henderson," says Audubon, "I had among other birds a fine male Turkey, which had been reared from its earliest youth under my care, it having been caught by me when probably not more than two or three days old. It became so tame that it would follow any person who called it, and was the favourite of the little village; yet it would never roost with the tame Turkeys, but regularly betook itself at night to the roof of the house, where it remained till dawn. When two years old it began to fly to the woods, where it remained for a considerable part of the day, returning to the enclosure as soon as night approached. It continued this practice until the following spring, when I saw it several times fly from its roosting-place to the top of a high cotton tree on the Ohio, from which, after resting a little, it would sail to the opposite shore, the river being nearly half a mile wide, and return towards night. One morning I saw it fly off at a very early hour to the woods, in another direction, and took no particular notice of the circumstance. Several days elapsed, but the bird did not return. I was going towards some lakes near Green River, to shoot, when having walked five miles I saw a fine large gobbler cross the path before me, moving leisurely along. Turkeys being then in prime condition for the table, I ordered my dog to chase it and put it up. The animal went off with great rapidity, and as it approached the Turkey, I saw with much surprise that the latter paid little attention. Juno was on the point of seizing it, when she suddenly stopped and turned her head towards me. I hastened to them, but you may easily conceive my surprise when I saw my own favourite bird, and discovered that it had recognised the dog and would not fly from it, although the sight of a strange dog would have caused it to run off at once."

The Wild Turkeys do not restrict themselves to any particular kind of food, but prefer the winter grape and the pecan-nut, being found in the greatest numbers where these are plentiful. They eat grass and various herbs, corn, berries, fruit, insects, tadpoles, and small lizards. When walking, these birds often open their wings a little, folding them again over each other, as if their weight were too great, then run a short distance, spreading their pinions and fanning their sides after the manner of the Domestic Fowl, then leaping two or three times into the air, and shaking themselves. While searching for food they keep the head raised, and are always on the watch, meanwhile scratching with their feet, and snatching up at once with the beak any prey which they may have found. In summer they roll themselves in the dust of roads or ploughed fields to clear themselves from ticks. After snow, when the ground becomes hard, the Turkeys will remain on their sleeping-places without food for three or four days, but sometimes venture into farmyards to the stacks of corn and stables, in search of grain. During falls of melting snow they run to surprising distances, and with such rapidity that no horse can keep up with them; late in the spring, however, their strength is not so great, and a good dog is able to overtake them.

With the exception of man, the most formidable enemies of the Wild Turkey are the lynx, the Snowy Owl, and the Virginian Owl. The lynx pursues both old and young, sucks their eggs, and does them great injury. The Owls attack them when roosting on the branches of trees, hovering around them with silent wing. "This, however," says Audubon, "is rarely done without being discovered; a single cluck from one of the party announces the approach of the murderer. They instantly start upon their legs and watch the motions of the Owl, which, selecting one as its victim, comes down upon it like an arrow, and would inevitably secure the prize, did not the latter at that moment lower its head, stoop, and spread its tail in an inverted manner over its back, so that the aggressor is met by a smooth inclined plane, along which it glances without hurting the Turkey; immediately after which the latter drops to the ground, and thus escapes merely with the loss of a few feathers."

Turkeys are hunted in all parts of America with ardour, but always in moderation. They are shot at pairing-time, and also when at roost; but they are most commonly caught in pens, in a manner thus described by Audubon:--

"Young trees, of four or five inches in diameter, are cut down and divided into pieces of the length of twelve or fourteen feet. Two of these are laid on the ground parallel to each other, at a distance of ten or twelve feet. Two others are laid across the ends of these at right angles to them, and in this manner successive layers are added until the fabric is raised to the height of about four feet. It is then covered with similar pieces of wood, placed three or four inches apart, and loaded with one or two heavy logs to render the whole firm. This done, a trench about eighteen inches in depth and width is cut under one side of the cage, into which it opens slantingly and rather abruptly. It is continued on its outside to some distance, so as gradually to attain the level of the surrounding ground. Over the part of this trench within the pen, and close to the wall, some sticks are placed so as to form a kind of bridge about a foot in breadth. The trap being now finished, the owner places a quantity of Indian corn in its centre, as well as in the trench; and as he walks off, drops here and there a few grains in the woods, sometimes to the distance of a mile. This is repeated at every visit to the trap after the Turkeys have found it. No sooner has a Turkey discovered the train of corn than it communicates the circumstance to the flock by a cluck, when all of them come up, and searching for the grains scattered about, at length come upon the trench, which they follow, squeezing themselves one after another through the passage under the bridge. In this manner the whole flock sometimes enters, but more commonly six or seven only, as they are alarmed by the least noise, even the cracking of a tree in frosty weather. Those within having gorged themselves, raise their heads, and try to force their way through the top or sides of the pen, passing and repassing on the bridge, but never for a moment looking down or attempting to escape by the passage by which they entered. Thus they remain until the owner of the trap arriving closes the trench and secures his captives. I have heard of eighteen Turkeys having been caught in this manner at a single visit to the trap."

When Turkeys are abundant, the owners sometimes neglect to visit their traps, and the poor prisoners are starved for want of food, for they never retrace their steps along the trench, as they might readily do, and thus regain their liberty.

* * * * *

The AUSTRALIAN JUNGLE FOWLS (_Megapodinæ_) form a group of Australian birds, distinguished from all their feathered brethren by the strange manner in which their broods are incubated. For this process mounds of grass and earth are erected by the parents to receive their unusually large eggs, which are hatched by means of the heat engendered by the decaying vegetable matter. The young do not quit the shell until they are fully fledged and capable of supporting themselves. Gould is of opinion that this singular way of incubating the eggs, and the very small size of their brain, indicate that the _Megapodinæ_ hold but a low place in the scale of intelligence. Naturalists are much at variance concerning the systematic position of these birds, but in our own opinion Reichenbach is correct in considering them as nearly allied to the _Gallinaceæ_, and we shall therefore adopt his arrangement.

* * * * *

The TALLEGALLI (_Tallegalli_) are recognisable by their strong curved beak, short toes, small much-rounded wings, and the bare patches on the head, neck, and breast. These birds inhabit the dense brushes, scrubby gullies, and primeval forests of Australia and New Guinea, where they are met with in small flocks on the ground. In disposition they are very shy, and when disturbed endeavour to escape by running into the thick brush or by flying up to the branches of trees, and then ascending to the top, which they gain by leaping from bough to bough; having attained the summit they sometimes fly off to a new locality in the underwood. During the mid-day heat they generally seek shelter under the shady branches of trees, often uttering a low chuckling noise; they also dust themselves on the ground, after the manner of other Gallinaceous Birds. Their food consists of seeds, berries, and insects.

* * * * *

The BRUSH TURKEYS (_Catheturus_) are recognisable by their powerful frame, moderate-sized neck, large head, short rounded wings, and tail of medium length, composed of eighteen feathers; their soft woolly down, and a slight hairy growth on the head and neck. The fore part of the throat exhibits a long fleshy excrescence. These remarkable birds are natives of Australia.

THE BRUSH TURKEY, OR WATTLED TALLEGALLUS.

The BRUSH TURKEY, or WATTLED TALLEGALLUS (_Catheturus_, or _Tallegallus Lathami_), is of a beautiful chocolate-brown on the upper portions of the body, and light brown on the under side, which is marked with silver-grey. The eye is light brown, the wattle bright yellow, the beak lead-grey, and the foot light reddish brown. The bare skin on the head and neck is scarlet. This species is two feet and a half long; the wing measures twelve inches, and the tail nine inches and a half. The female closely resembles her mate.

"How far the range of the Wattled Tallegallus may extend," says Mr. Gould, "is not yet satisfactorily ascertained; it is known to inhabit various parts of New South Wales, from Cape Howe to Moreton Bay, and Mr. Macgillivray informed me that he had killed it as far up the east coast as Port Molle. The assaults of the cedar-cutters and others, who frequently hunt through the brushes of Illawarra and Maitland, had, however, nearly extirpated it from those localities when I visited the colony in 1838, and it probably does not now exist there; but I believe it is still plentiful in the dense and little-trodden brushes of the Manning and Clarence. I was at first led to believe the country between the mountain ranges and the coast constituted its sole habitat, but I was agreeably surprised when I found it in the Liverpool brushes and in the scrubby gullies and sides of the lower hills that branch off towards the interior.

"It has often been asserted that Australia abounds in anomalies, and in no instance is the truth of this assertion more fully exemplified than in the history of this very singular bird, respecting the situation of which in the natural system much diversity of opinion, as above noticed, has hitherto prevailed. It was consequently one of the birds which demanded my utmost attention during my visit to Australia.

"The most remarkable circumstance connected with the economy of this species is the fact of its eggs not being incubated in the manner of other birds. At the commencement of the spring the Wattled Tallegallus scratches together an immense heap of decaying matter as a depository for the eggs, and trusts to the heat developed by the process of fermentation for the development of the young. The heap employed for this purpose is collected by the birds during several weeks previous to the period of laying; it varies in size from two to many cartloads, and in most instances is of a pyramidal form. The construction of the mound is either the work of one pair of birds, or, as some suppose, of the united labours of several; the same site appears to be resorted to for several years in succession, the birds adding a fresh supply of materials each succeeding season.