By Glen Wunderlich
I had put in a long workday without any breaks other than a bowl of soup for lunch. With just enough light remaining and a relatively warm-weather day, I thought I’d finish just one more project outdoors. An old playhouse/turned shed inherited from the previous property owner at the homestead was in need of a final coat of paint to finish the renovation. The first two sides were complete, when I went inside the garage for more paint. As I looked out the back window, where I feed the perching birds in the pine straw, here they came: three jake turkeys for some fast food.
These year-old birds have been around the property since last spring, when there were nine of them in the family group including the mother hen. During our severe cold weather with a substantial layer of ice on the ground, I knew it was going to be rough on the birds and was happy to see them come in routinely for some chow. Now the gang has been pared to seven birds including four hens but I hadn’t seen much of them recently.
The adolescent big-game birds were now scratching and pecking through the pine needles mere feet from the garage, where I had become voluntarily captive; there was no way out of the building without being seen and frightening my guests. I laughed to myself and headed over to the refrigerator for a cool drink ready to watch the antics of the three brothers. The paint job was going to wait.
For some 20 minutes they remained until one of them began walking away; the other two followed. They got about 20 yards from the feeding area but not far enough yet for me to escape the confines of my lookout, so I stayed right there watching. One bird that apparently is the boss brother started jumping and with a stretched out neck, began circling one of the other birds. Obviously a show of dominance, the antics continued in my midst for another 15 minutes, as the group slowly moved away.
When the visitors got to about 50 yards from the garage, it was time to make a move with my paint bucket. I peered from the passage door and could still see them interacting but I stepped outdoors thinking enough is enough. One bird soon picked me off and all of them halted with heads high and eyes tuned to me. I took a few non-threatening steps toward the shed and big brother gobbled for all he was worth. It was as if to say, “Watch it, buddy. You’re invading our space!” Another step by me and another short gobble hurled at me.
Jakes don’t gobble quite the same as the adult males; it’s more of an abbreviated rendition of their effort. However, to see them and to hear them confirms that such gobbling emanates from young birds. This local group was not entirely committed to leaving and was content to take a few painting lessons from me, albeit from a comfortable distance.
I won’t be hunting these youngsters this season and am hoping they’ll survive another year and become mature. In the meantime, I’m glad to have watched the show.
