As found in the March 2025 issue of Colorado Serenity Online.
We live on South Turkey Creek Road so, as you can imagine, there might be a wild turkey or two roaming around. Ok, maybe 50 at last count. And while they are rumored to be among the smartest of birds, the fact that they show up the most around Thanksgiving makes one wonder about that particular claim. They are at once the most beautiful and most disturbing looking birds around. From the neck down, they’re stunning – the iridescence in their feathers can take your beath away. From the neck up, well, that’s another story. I’m pretty sure they were the inspiration for the Ood in Dr. Who (look them up, you’ll get it). And the colors the boys’ heads and waddles turn this time of year, when it’s Spring and time to get all excited with the girlies, well, it’s just downright mesmerizing and a wee bit uncomfortable.
The group that hangs out here is actually made up of a few sub groups, or as we like to call them, Gang Members from West Side Story. First, the boys. Toms and Jakes, and they translate straight into the Jets and the Sharks. If they had fingers they would snap them and break out into an impromptu dance off. However, they all unite in their love for Superhubby Jim. They have figured out first of all that they are tall enough to reach one of the bird feeders as well as snarf up all of the fallen sunflower seeds on the ground. Next, they have also figured out that Jim is the one who keeps the feeders full and when he goes out to refill them, they run up to him like a long lost friend. Who knew a wild turkey could actually look happy and hopeful? They loiter on the porch waiting for him and I swear one of these days they’re going to actually knock on the door and ask if Jim can come out and play. If I peek out the front window, they jog up all happy as can be until they realize it’s me instead and then just turn away in grave disappointment.
Next, the girls. The hens are usually in three distinct cliques, Maidens, Mothers and Crones. About 9 in each group they also have dance offs in the front yard. They’re all quite pretty, in a turkey sort of way. Their visiting schedule depends on whether it’s the baby time of year or not. If they’re incubating and roosting, they pretty much stay close to friend Kim’s house. Good tree cover, a creek, all the comforts of a good natal ward. Everything a turkey mama could want. If it’s flirty time like right now, they’re here like we’re the neighborhood pickup joint and they get their choice of the males who literally strut their stuff.
The rest of the year they all make the rounds between us and four of our neighbors and we all serve a purpose in their world. We’re obviously the breakfast joint, you can set a clock to their arrival about half an hour after sunrise. They come from our neighbor across the street and walk up our hill in lines of four or five at a time. As each line of heads appear it’s hard not to hear the Imperial March and envision the Storm Troopers moving in. I think they’re snacking over there as well, so we may technically be Second Breakfast, which is appropriate for Rivendale Farms when you think about it. From our farm they head over to neighbors Jim and Joanna’s place where the gardens and landscaping are so beautiful that it’s completely heavenly for any bird that wanders through.
As dusk rolls in, it’s on to Jody and Steve’s, their preferred AirBNB for a good night’s rest. We’ve watched them prepare to roost following several Thanksgiving dinners now. (And this year one actually poked his head at the window during dinner as if to say, “Whatcha’ havin?” Considered waving a drumstick in his general direction but that just seemed mean.) Right at dusk, we’ve counted as many as 50 lining up at the top of the hill that heads down to a little ravine with a creek and is well populated with mature Ponderosa pines. One after another they get a run going down the hill and then fly those big ol’ awkward bodies right up into the trees and settle in for the night. It’s like dinner AND a show.
We’ve always had a thing for birds and are blessed to have so many songbirds that call our property home, but over the years the wild turkeys have somehow become my favorite. Imagine a feathered dinosaur that couldn’t decide if it wanted to soar like its ancient relatives or just goof off, flapping around in the yard like it’s late for an important turkey meeting. They’re like giant Pterodactyl goofballs and they show they give us daily is worth the price of admission.