Tails of Birding: The Recovery of the Wild Turkey

Photo credit: Tales of Birding
A huge dark lump was on a branch of the cottonwood across the river. As I wiped the morning blur from my eyes, it launched itself with stubby wings beating. Barely in defiance of gravity, it coasted to my side of the river. Just over the bank, out of sight, but somewhere beneath the willow, it landed. “Turkey,” I announced to the somnolent household. I continued watching through the kitchen window, hoping for another glimpse. Instead, from across the river I saw more brown lumps on a downward arc - coming from the pine trees where they had roosted during the night - to the old farm field and orchard. I counted fifteen.




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