Turkey Trot

Every now and then the turkeys come out and graze in my front pasture.  This morning, however, there is only one.  Where are the others?

The real question is "who are the others," because that answers the question as to where they are.  They are hiding.  Why are they hiding? Because they are the females of the species and it is spring and that means that the male of the species, after months of quiet humility, now wake up each and every morning with the confirmed belief that it's all about them.

Eggs, grazing, nesting, new borns, grazing, sleep, grazing, safety, grazing, all of these essential and wonderful components of the turkey lifestyle suddenly are reduced to mere distraction in the eyes of all the Toms. This pasture, those trees, my house, and other components of a larger turkey territory (more than five miles in circumference, I am told) now reduce to thimble size in the Toms' consciousness, as their own largeness verily dominates the world.  All because of the onset of a seasonal jolt of hormones, endocrines and probably, for all I know, some of that carbon stuff everyone is talking about.

This has to be a bit tiresome for female turkeys.    Especially given the way the males communicate their newfound self-confidence.  I see it in the field, even though there are no females around, the male POPs! out a garish fan of tail feathers.  He turns this way POP!  He sees a squirrel POP!  A limb gesticulates in the wind POP! A mosquito bite and a bit of indigestion POP! POP!  To one and all, the Toms say, "Hey Doll!  Check THIS out!"  Charming, charming.

Now I am not going to draw any parallels between this behavior and human males.  It would really be a bit facile to compare turkey mating techniques with all those construction workers who think it's a special turn-on for women to be yelled and hooted at in broad daylight; with the teen-age boys who equate loud, boisterous slovenliness with macho attractiveness; with the middle-aged males who flash their American Express GOLD! Cards, expensive suits purchased with GOLD! Cards, cigars imported from embargo-ed countries through the auspices of special relationships with offshore companies who will take GOLD! Cards, and by the way, have you seen my GOLD! Card?  Hey, look, here's another GOLD! Card.

No, such comparisons are really not fair, so I won't even bring them up.  But I will say that Frederick, my male black dog, mostly Labrador, has learned through stern tutelage to behave better.  Although sometimes, when he thinks I am not looking, I detect a certain troubling strut. But it's hard to tell.  He just doesn't have the proper tail feathers to make a really strong statement about the matter.