I recently got another reminder that there’s more to the wild turkeys in these parts than typically meets the eye.
When I let our dog Scotty (the Scottie) out the back door one morning, we saw a pair of turkeys that were startled and fled. There’s not much unusual about that, but these two didn’t run into the woods as you might expect – they took to the air.
Yep, the turkeys flew away.
First, one flapped its way right through a tree line and skillfully glided way down toward the river bottoms. Then the second made its move, and actually perched on a branch high up in a hickory tree. It then began making a singular, repeating sound that I’d describe as being similar to the bark of a medium-sized dog.
As the scene unfolded, I smiled and sort of nodded in appreciative recognition. Meanwhile, Scotty just stood there on the deck and observed, and then looked at me as if to say, “well how about that, pa; those big things can fly pretty good.”
And yes, they can.
While they may look rotund and awkward, don’t be fooled, turkeys are agile fliers – and fast, too. And despite what might be customary to think, they’re also dang swift runners when they want to be.
According to turkey-guru statistical information easily found online, they’ve been known to reach 20 miles per hour or more on foot and exceed 50 miles per hour in flight. Although I wish I had, I’ve never seen a turkey get up to that kind of speed, in the air or on the ground. But I have seen them become impressive aviators several times, and each time I’m left with feelings of awe and delight.
I find it fascinating that these birds only utilize these athletic talents on rather specific occasions. Like when there’s a potential predator nearby, which Scotty must have qualified as.
Basically, turkeys just don’t feel led to flaunt their abilities most of the time. They’re obviously OK with slowly sauntering around in search of the next tasty morsel, leaving the velocity exhibitions to the roadrunners, hawks and other known avian speedsters.
But when there’s danger about, it’s all about escaping in a big, big hurry, and the veil is lifted from the turkeys’ cache of capabilities.
Now, it’s not that wild turkeys are going to start migrating like geese or some of their other feathered relatives, because the maximum distance they can fly in a single flight is estimated to be about a mile and they rarely fly more than about 100 yards (which is usually enough to find safety). And supposedly, they can only fly as high as about 50 feet.
But stats and data notwithstanding, I think seeing a turkey fly is both amusing and striking. It’s a bit like watching a jumbo jet and being amazed by the fact that something so massive could get airborne.
And I always seem to wonder what goes through turkeys’ little brains with regard to utilizing flight. I envision it as being pretty funny.
Here’s what the two Scotty and I saw might have said to each other.
“Danger at 3 o’clock!”
“Roger that; evaluating air defense maneuvers.”
“There’s not much time!”
“Checking wind speed and direction.”
“Forget that, I’m out! Yee haw!”
“Hey, wait for me! Uh, where’d you go? Hello? Hello?”
We didn’t see it leave, but the one in the tree moved on not long after perching. Hopefully it found its buddy way down below near the Big Piney.
And hopefully those two turkeys – or some of their neighborhood cohorts – will provide another aerial display sometime,because I just love that stuff.
And apparently, Scotty does, too.
Doug Davison is a writer, photographer and newsroom assistant for the Houston Herald. Email: ddavison@houstonherald.com.
