Oh, and by the way Ben Franklin didn't publicly suggest the turkey become the national symbol, but he did describe in a letter to his daughter that the turkey had some much more worthy attributes than the eagle. To read his letter and more about this myth, click here: https://www.smithsonianmag.com/arts-culture/american-myths-benjamin-franklins-turkey-and-the-presidential-seal-6623414/
Every day - sometimes several times a day - I look out my windows (back or front yard) and see a rafter of turkeys. Yes, a rafter or a flock. I always thought you called a gathering of turkeys a gaggle, but that’s used for geese – geese on the ground, not in flight; then they’re referred to as a skein, team or wedge. A rafter is the term for two or more turkeys, and scientists have actually counted a rafter as large as 200 individuals! Usually Terry and I see rafters of ten or four; occasionally, like this morning when I saw thirteen, I see more than ten. This time of year the hens and their female offspring are roaming together in a rafter, and there are rafters of males called either Jakes (younger turkeys about 1-2 years old) or Gobblers/Toms (adult males, 2 years and older). I wasn’t sure how to determine the birds’ sex at first, but I did guess that the group of four I have watched, were males. Upon doing some research I discovered that yes, my group of four are males because of their beards. The beards hang not from their beaks nor necks but from the breast and are actually modified feathers (they look like long hairs to me) that typically range from 8-10 inches long, but Eastern Toms can grow beards over 20”! Each year the beard grows about four inches, but often the ends are broken off, so you may not be able to gauge their age alone by this clue. And just to throw us humans off the trail, 10-20% of female turkeys grow a beard! Turkeys forage throughout the day and roost in trees at night as high up as they can get to protect themselves from predators. I would like to see this because one day I saw a turkey sitting on the neighbor’s fence rail – just outside my office window – and it was very peculiar to see such a large bird, feathers fluffed out, perched on the rail. Which, by the way, is a great place to see wildlife wander by. I’ve washed and taken the screen out of the window so I can take pictures of the animals passing by, but there’s often a reflection of my clothing in the window; and, the added glass means sometimes the pictures wind up in the delete folder. But I have seen chipmunks and rabbits, Steller Jay’s, and turkeys daily from this window as well as the occasional deer. But back to the turkeys. They move through the neighborhood all day long and frequently walk through our backyard – a hill which backs up to acres of woodland and scrub that abuts the Rio Grande National Forest. They frequent our side yard near the rail fence of the neighbor on the right and often walk through the front yard pecking at grass in the driveway. One day I even watched as a turkey came up to a water bowl set out for Rocket and started to drink before she saw me and hustled back to her rafter. On another occasion I witnessed what I later discovered is quite rarely seen behavior. The rafter of hens and young, eleven of them, were in the neighbor’s yard to our left. (These neighbors permanently reside in Texas (along with our neighbor’s to the right). We met them because they moved in when we did, but soon returned to Dallas, and they won’t be back until October.) I think the hens like their yard because no one’s living in the house, but turkeys move through the yards beside us, up the hill behind us, and in yards across the street. I discovered that two neighbors feed the turkeys (and consequently other animals like the deer). Like many of our neighbors, one household that feeds them lives permanently in TX so we always know when they’re back in town because the turkeys hunt and peck in their front yard twice a day. (Yes, it’s true most of the neighbors seem to live in TX.) But back to the unusual behavior... I had my camera out to try and get shots of multiple turkeys in the grass without all the obstacles of development (fencing, driveway reflectors, lawn ornaments and driveways). Not an easy task. I took a few shots when one of the turkeys began moving away from the group, running rather haphazardly with another turkey in pursuit. The first turkey had something dangling from it’s mouth which I later determined to be a bird. She carried the bird around with legs dangling from her beak and moved to the side of the house, back to the driveway - always with her back to the other turkey. I got what shots I could between all the obstacles but didn’t move to follow her and scatter all the turkeys in the yard. Then I went inside to tell Terry about her scurried movements and the bird in her beak. When I read about the turkey diet, I discovered that their beaks are not made to capture/eat birds and that while they are omnivores, the animals they occasionally eat are lizards, snakes and insects. (One writer adds that they will eat everything from fruits to frogs.) My photos aren’t great from a technical standpoint, but they do show a turkey with a bird in her mouth! The next day I found a pile of bird feathers, gray and white, in our yard. I believe a hawk or something must have killed the bird but dropped it in the neighbor’s yard, only to be picked up by the turkey. Now I wished I knew what the turkey did with the body after it’s scurried movements…did it try to consume or merely drop it after the initial fascination? There’s a sign at the intersection outside our house that says it’s illegal to feed the deer, but it says nothing about the turkeys. We see lots of Mule deer too – some bucks and mothers with young traveling in small groups. Don’t get me wrong, I want the turkeys to be well fed, and I enjoy having them around. But there have been some bears in the neighborhood getting into garbage, and I don’t want the bears to be shot because of indiscretions by their human neighbors. We haven’t seen the mother with three spring cubs nor the boar (male bear) who lives up the hill in the woods. But this morning I saw an overturned trash can from a house I haven’t seen people living in. It’s not trash day so I wonder if someone rented the home for the week and left their trash bin exposed. I suspect it was a bear that rummaged through the scraps and bags. (Whoever it was, the crows were delighted!) Also on this morning’s dog walk, I watched two rabbits exhibit mating behavior. I thought this unusual in Sept. until I researched and discovered that male rabbits will “hump practically anything,” and they seek out female rabbits who don’t have a typical period of estrus like many animals; ovulation occurs after mating. Here is what Rocket and I saw. The rabbits stared at each other, even though one took a few bites of grass. Then the male hopped over the female rabbit, initiating a hop in the air from the female. They did this a few times and on one occasion when they hopped into the air, their paws touch. The pair Rocket and I watched hopped several times over each other before the female ran under a bush, the male in pursuit, where we couldn’t see. (didn't have my camera - of course!) I don’t think this led to mating, but I’ll never know. A few minutes later, I heard the turkeys, this time 16 of them, pecking on the hill above the houses. Turkeys make many vocalizations: gobbles, clucks, purrs, cutts, yelps, whines, etc. Mostly what I hear is the birds calling to each other when they’ve gotten separated. It’s the assembly call, but I also have heard the purr and the cluck, and the cutt. These and more can all be heard here: https://www.nwtf.org/hunt/wild-turkey-basics/turkey-sounds Turkeys are very alert birds with excellent eyesight, and moving as a flock helps ward off predators, while at least one bird scans the area. Predators include coyotes, fox, bobcat, Great Horned owls, dogs, Golden Eagles, possibly black bears and especially humans. In the 1930’s turkeys had been so over-hunted and their habitats destroyed to such an extent that their numbers plummeted from millions to 30,000 in the US. With conservation efforts to boost the population, the turkey population has rebounded to currently about 1.3 million birds, which may explain why I see dozens daily; one recent day I had 50 sightings. There is a pecking order in the flock – there are dominance displays and fights which helps determine breeding rank in the spring. And I’ll be eager to listen and watch this behavior next year. But for now, I’m content with just watching them forage. I know many people will be enjoying turkeys on the dining room table come November, but me, I hope to see them scratching in the leaf litter in the backyard or pecking through the snow for seeds and grasses. Oh, and by the way Ben Franklin didn't publicly suggest the turkey become the national symbol, but he did describe in a letter to his daughter that the turkey had some much more worthy attributes than the eagle. To read his letter and more about this myth, click here: https://www.smithsonianmag.com/arts-culture/american-myths-benjamin-franklins-turkey-and-the-presidential-seal-6623414/
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Last week, I came home…a new home, far away from our Vermont home - a place a bit foreign too. After over five years of RV travels and living in our RV, Terry and I are settling in South Fork, CO. It’s not my mom’s home in Clarksville, VA – a place we’ve found ourselves staying sometimes for months over the last five years. That was always ‘my parent’s home’ or ‘my mom’s house’ after my dad died. I didn’t call it home, because I didn’t grow up in that house. During our RV travels, people often asked us where we lived. Terry and I would look at each other and say, “Well, today we live here.” We would add that we live in our RV and just travel around - “living” wherever we parked it. Many of these people we met would say “Oh, I’d like to do that one day.” In others I could see a puzzled look come over their face, a look of disbelief. Then they’d ask, “Well, where is your home base?” We’d answer we didn’t have one. It was a hard concept for many to grasp. Surely you must have a place where you put down roots, a place you can go “home” to. But really the concept of home has changed over the years and decades for me, morphed into something impermanent, something unnecessary, once, a construct of youth that held a magic allure that in middle age has been reshaped. When I was a teenager I dreamt my home would be big with many rooms, and on the grounds would be room for horses, lots of dogs, and a place to ride dirt bikes. It was a place I would play in and enjoy the outdoors, not really a place of work. But that was before I knew the ways of the world, the costs of land, the chores involved with upkeep and the limitations of one’s aging body. As we’ve traveled the continent in our movable home, I’ve become fond of the gypsy, vagabond, nomadic culture. Once you embrace it, you open your mind to the way others see their world, their slice of heaven, their “home.” And the best part is you get to experience many different environments and fully appreciate nature’s beauty. But, there’s something to be said about having a permanent home, rooted in the ground. When I search my brain on the word home, some clichés come to mind: There’s no place like home. Home sweet home. The best journey takes you home. Home is what you make it. A house is made of bricks and beams, a home is made of hopes and dreams. I’ve lived in many homes from my hometowns of South Boston & Halifax, VA to Myrtle Beach, SC, CT, Washington, DC, and Maryland to Vermont, I remember them all fondly. The first home I remember on Stanley Ct. in South Boston, VA was where I made my first best friend, Suzanne Paulette. While she was two years older, and I moved away in sixth grade, I spent a lot of cherished hours listening to 45 records in her bedroom, playing basketball in her yard, and riding our bikes to Gravitts Supermarket for penny candy. When I was 12 we moved to Golf Course Rd. in nearby Halifax, VA and I made good friends with the Allen girls: Janice, Joyce (the twins) and Judy. I loved our new house - a split level with more room than Stanley Ct. and situated right alongside the golf course. We had land there with a barn where the Allen girls and I would smoke cigarettes, and neighboring fields where we could ride mini bikes/dirt bikes. Of course, my parents made both these houses ‘home,’ and I loved my childhood. I spent my high school years in Halifax growing up cheerleading and playing flute in the band where I made another best friend Patty Skeryl. And for a long time I called Virginia home through my college years, even though my parents moved to CT. Later in life when Terry and I were married and bought our first home at age 25, I remember pinching myself in the gold and green pineapple vinyl floored kitchen (accompanied by garish pineapple wallpaper) thinking, “Wow, this is our home!” As we opened boxes and moved in our meager belongings, I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. This was 12509 Feldon St. in Aspen Hill, MD. It was the beginning of a long marriage spent in different houses over the years, making them homes, raising our son and making friends, building careers and finally venturing across the country in our house on wheels. After Feldon St, we moved to Stoneham Terrace in Bethesda, MD where our son Sundance began first grade. The friendships made over the five years there were integral to making that house a home. We held birthday parties, BBQ’s, and enjoyed lasting friendships with new best friends, including another Patti – Patti Devlin. I loved the space, the fact that we lived on a cul-de-sac, the neighbors, the proximity to the elementary school (5 minute walk) and everything about the house. We could have stayed there for another decade, but we decided we needed a slower pace, and that Sundance would be well served growing up away from all the suburban privilege of Bethesda and a sense of entitlement that exuded from many of the landowners, and therefore their children. Life on Sunrise Dr. (another cul-de-sac) in Huntington, VT included great outdoor recreational opportunities in biking, hiking, snowshoeing, skiing and just sitting with neighbors on the deck watching the sunset. The neighbors were a great draw to this address, and we made deep friendships with the Burts and the Richter-Akins. In fact Lisa Burt was there to help us move in boxes, and her whole family helped us a few weeks ago as we cleared out our storage unit in VT and moved our belongings cross country. Our home on Sunrise Dr. held great memories of parties, bonfires, Sundance’s constant sleep-overs, kids trampolining and playing basketball, along with watching wildlife (moose, fox, bear, deer, turkeys, rabbits – all came through the yard.) I loved the vastness of the house that held space for guests to stay and space for Sundance and his friends to hang out. But it took a lot to clean, and Terry had a lot of upkeep with the yard. And so, in 2014 I spent nearly a year shedding belongings in preparation for our RV odyssey. I sold items, bartered items, gave things away and paired down to what would fit in the 30’ RV and a 10x15x8 storage unit in VT. And off we went in the RV. Sometimes when people asked where we lived when we weren’t in our RV, I joked that we were homeless. Along the years, I began to embrace what that meant in a new way. Before, the word homeless to me meant the antithesis of the American dream; a word that went hand in hand with transient, failure, bum, anti-social, “down-on-your-luck.” The images that came to mind were someone sleeping in a car, someone sleeping on a park bench, someone sleeping in a tent under a highway overpass. Of course that image of homelessness is sadly all too obvious across our nation. Last year 17 out of every 10,000 people were homeless. According to Backpack Bed for Homeless, 193,000 Americans will sleep on our streets tonight. That’s a sobering fact about people in need that fall into the description of the word ‘homeless’ – a word I can’t co-opt, for our ‘homelessness’ looks very different. As we traveled, we were fortunate to have a roof over our head, money for food and gas, health insurance and a nest-egg. Truly we were never homeless; we just didn’t have permanent roots in one place. And that is a concept I think hard for many to grasp, but something we embraced. But now we’re home ‘again.’ We have moved our possessions out of storage and into our new house on Aspen Dr. We have parked the RV in the driveway and are meeting our neighbors. We are exploring the area, hiking the national forest, sledding the hills, biking the bike path and walking Rocket in the neighborhood. As we approached the move last month, it felt a bit odd…like a betrayal to our recent way of life. There were bittersweet moments because we love being on the road, we love daily or weekly adventures in new places. So buying a house to turn into a home seemed mundane and uneventful. But together Terry, Rocket and I are making this place home. We’ve hung our old pictures on the walls – ones we’ve missed that have been collecting dust in storage. And depending on the status of Coronavirus and widespread access to a vaccine, we may be back on the road in the RV next summer. South Fork has only about 400 year round residents and thousands during peak tourist season. Neighbors ask us if we’re permanent, and Terry and I just look at each other and say “we’re somewhat permanent; we’ll definitely be here in the winter to ski.” Before I wrap up this blog, I want to offer yet another cliché about home. The title of Thomas Wolfe’s book: YOU CAN’T GO HOME AGAIN. As I was unpacking boxes of books I hadn’t seen in years, I ran across this novel. I bought it because it’s a classic to be read. But I’ve resisted starting it all these years, because I’m a romantic. I didn’t want to believe this sentiment; even though I knew it was true from the moment I graduated college. I wanted to go back to my high school haunts and relive memories with my old pals. But my home wasn’t there any more, my parents now lived in CT and friends had scattered. And even if my parents still lived in Halifax, I knew things would be different when you “grew up.” So I plan to read this book in the coming months. In researching the basics of it, I discovered that Wolfe was writing about more than just his childhood and subsequent maturity. He was according to Wikipedia writing about “the changing American society of the 1920s/30s, including the stock market crash, the illusion of prosperity, and the unfair passing of time.” And the book touches on Wolfe’s disillusionment with Germany during the rise of Nazism and his critique of capitalism in the US at the same time. I think there’s a lot packed into this novel. Here are just a couple of quotes from the book: Excerpts from: YOU CAN'T GO HOME AGAIN“You can't go back home to your family, back home to your childhood ... back home to a young man's dreams of glory and of fame ... back home to places in the country, back home to the old forms and systems of things which once seemed everlasting but which are changing all the time – back home to the escapes of Time and Memory." “I think the enemy is here before us with a thousand faces, but I think we know that all his faces wear one mask. I think the enemy is single selfishness and compulsive greed. I think the enemy is blind, but has the brutal power of his blind grab…” As strange as it feels to say, “I’m home,” I’m getting used to the idea. It’s nice to be reunited with old possessions, to have reliable internet and electricity, to know I can take long hot showers whenever I want, to not have to find a laundromat, to be able to print a document, and all the other advantages of having a permanent home. And while making friends during Covid-19 will be a challenge, we’ll adapt. So from our home to yours, here’s an Irish blessing: May you always have walls for the winds,
a roof for the rain, tea beside the fire, laughter to cheer you, those you love near you, and all your heart might desire. May joy and peace surround you, Contentment latch your door, And happiness be with you now, And bless you evermore. Bless you and yours As well as the cottage you live in. May the roof overhead be well thatched And those inside be well matched. May your neighbors respect you, Trouble neglect you, The angels protect you, And heaven accept you. – Anonymous |
AuthorFormer documentary film producer, wife and mother of one...I'm taking time off to see the US with my husband Terry. Here's where I'll write about our adventures RVing until the money runs out! Archives
August 2021
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