Talking Turkey

I walked into one of those nature dramas you watch, not knowing which side to cheer for. Kinda like those programs they show on the Nature Channel or PBS. True to form, I was not ready for what would, or would not, happen. I was walking with my head down, somewhat mesmerized by the excessive amount of coyote poop on the trail this morning. Hey, gimmie a break! I was five miles into a rather strenuous hike and any diversion helps.
I rounded a corner, about to pass through an opening in the forest, when the unmistakable sight of a Wild Turkey caught my eye. In terms of getting close to a turkey, even 100 feet away seems close to me. He was standing in a copse, alternating looks in my direction and to his right.
I froze in my tracks. I’ve taken a lot of bird pictures and few if any (the Northern Wheatear discussed the other day being the exception) are easy. I would, however, put Wild Turkey at the top of the Damn-Near-Impossible list. I was afraid to reach for my camera because I could tell, Big Tom was about to bolt. He could surely see me, yet he kept looking to his right. I, too, looked in that direction and saw nothing.
Or, did I? What I first thought was a butterfly morphed into an ear! Clearly, now, I could see a pair of ears in the high grass. Wait! There were four ears!. Wait! Make that six!
Oh my. I figured it out. An adult coyote and two youngsters were stalking Big Tom. And Big Tom was not alone. As my eyes became more accustomed to the shadows where he stood, I could see Big Tom was accompanied by nearly a dozen other turkeys of varying sizes.
Big Tom was in big trouble. Whether the coyotes could see me was unclear. I suspect they could smell me with little or no trouble.
Tom weighed his options. I dug out the camera. The ears disappeared. The turkeys dashed left. A Red-tail Hawk I had not even seen in the tree above the turkeys, took off. The coyotes … What happened to the coyotes?
They disappeared, as they usually do. These creatures are more often heard than seen. Even the coyote’s howl is deceiving. Particularly in this region of hills and valleys, the sound carries and echoes. We’re getting into howling time here in northeast Ohio. Coyotes howl a lot in January and February while looking for a mate. (Don’t we all?) And now, in September and October, the female is often calling to her offspring, who, like human kids, all answer at the same time.
The howling lessons are easy. Stalking Wild Turkeys takes special skills, as this morning’s youngsters learned.


A note to you readers who send me email questioning what kind of National Park we have here in northeast Ohio. Since a picture is worth a lotta words, here’s one I made just after the turkey/coyote incident.