THE wild Turkey of North America (Meleagris gallo-pavo) is one of the finest birds pursued by the sportsman; and when in prime order, as they are in the fall, are well worthy of the attention of the hunter.
They are found in all parts of the States, though of course the advancing tide of civilization drives them further and further into the unfrequented wilds.
The length of the male bird is nearly four feet; its head and neck are covered with purplish-red excrescences, on a naked blue skin, thickly overspread with bristles, and a tuft of horsetail-like hairs hangs from the breast similar to that seen in the domestic bird, but larger and longer. The game-looking head is smaller than that of the latter, and the general hue of the plumage is a beautiful golden copper, with purple and green reflections, mottled and banded with a deep soft black. The lower part of the back is an iridescent brown, and the tail, which is of a darker hue, has a broad black band at a short distance from the extremity, with an outer border of dark yellowish brown. About sixteen pounds is an average weight, when in good condition, though they have been shot weighing double as much; they vary greatly in this respect, according to the season, and to the abundance or scarcity of food obtainable. In the summer months they are poor and lean, and much infested with vermin, but improve rapidly when the beech-mast comes in, and are in their highest perfection late in autumn. The flesh is darker in color than the domestic bird, and has a more gamelike flavor.
The female bird is much smaller than the male, and far less showy in plumage. The legs are red in both sexes. Their breeding season is from the beginning of March to the end of April, according to the latitude. The hen lays from ten to fifteen eggs at a time, scratching a hollow in the ground for the purpose, and filling it with dead leaves.
The wild turkey subsists principally on nuts, beech-masts, acorns, wild strawberries, grapes, and dewberries; corn, when it can be got, and grasshoppers and other insects, whenever they chance to come in its way. Though properly speaking not migratory, these birds range very widely in search, of food, and the common impulse to desert an exhausted country for fresh ground, causes them to wander, as well as to assemble together in the flocks which are commonly met with in the month of October; but they invariably return to certain localities in which they may be said to be resident.
As a sport, the pursuit of the wild turkey ranks high in the estimation of the sportsman. The proper season for hunting them is late in the autumn, when, after a summer diet of strawberries and wild fruit, they have had a six-weeks or two months’ run among the acorns and masts. It is then a splendid bird in every respect, and so wild and difficult of approach as to require no inconsiderable skill in stalking. A bird with these qualities, excelling also in point of size, beauty of plumage, and culinary qualities, may well rank among game birds of the highest order.
Various means are adopted to bring this noble bird to bag, the principal of which are stalking, calling, and hunting with small dogs. As the latter method is only followed when using a shot-gun, I shall pass it over and speak of the others. “Calling” is practised in a similar manner to that pursued in following the moose. The sportsman having provided himself with a pipe, proceeds to the woods, and ensconcing himself in a suitable spot, proceeds to imitate the crying of the hen during the breeding season, which has the effect of bringing the cock-bird within range. A good deal of skill and patience are necessary to effect the desired object.
But the most legitimate and exciting way is by “stalking;” for it requires both skill and caution to come within range. The old birds, even while feeding, are ever on the alert, and having a quick ear and keen eye, combined with great watchfulness, are enabled to quickly detect the presence of danger, and it therefore requires all the caution and address of the practised stalker to steal in upon them. The chief difficulty is the absence of sufficient trail to indicate their proximity, whence it happens that one may either never find a flock at all, or may come on it unawares, and frighten the birds away before there is a chance of a shot.
A rifle carrying a very small ball is best adapted to this sport, and should be light and handy.
I have had very little experience in hunting the wild turkey, and am indebted for a great portion of the above to Major King’s “Sportsman and Naturalist in Canada.”
In the foregoing pages, I have endeavored to give such plain and simple directions as may prove of use to the beginner; but the impossibility of teaching him to do all these things is well described by Frank Forrester, when he says, at page 351, of his “Manual for Young Sportsmen:”
“Of all those grander wild sports of the extreme North and West, the moose and caribou hunting of the British provincial forests, and of the hyperborean regions of Maine; the elk, buffalo, and antelope hunting of the western plains and prairies; the bear-hunting of Arkansas and the Southwest; nay, even the deer and turkey-hunting of the regions wherein those animals are still to be found, survivors of the innumerable multitudes which formerly roamed unmolested from ocean to ocean; there are no rules positive which can be laid down, no instructions which can be of much use to the young sportsman. Where the rifle is the implement, beyond the mere directions how to take aim, load, and fire to the best advantage, nothing can be taught.
“Of all things wholly unteachable by writing or oral instruction, unless upon the spot, with practice and example to illustrate precept, the most impracticable is wood-craft.
“How to follow or find the trail of an animal, itself not discernible to the sharpest unpractised eyes, in the seemingly untrodden grass, or on the leaf-strewn surface of the pathless soil of the wilderness, can not be taught by words written or spoken. How to judge by the foot-prints, half seen, of bear or deer, as a woodman will do at a glance, whether the animal which left the sign was young or old, fat or lean, going to or returning from his lair, how long he has gone by, and whether it avails to follow him or not, can only be learned by long experience, attentive observation, and a course of pupilage on the ground, under thorough and competent teachers.
“In the same way it is evident that one can not give directions how one shall steal up, unseen and unheard, within rifle-shot of a herd of deer, a gang of elk, or a watchful moose or caribou. This may be told, and this is about all, that you must invariably advance on all wild animals which it is desirable to stalk, up wind. If you attempt to go down wind on them, their unerring scent will frustrate your every endeavor, and render it impossible to approach within half a mile, much less within gunshot of the quarry. It is wise also to stalk game so far as it is possible, owing to the state of the wind, with the sun on your back and in their eyes.”
And now my work is done, and the reader and I must part; but ere we do, let me commend to his perusal the following remarks on the important influence of this branch of field sports, taken from the writings of an ardent lover of the art: “Shooting is one of the great branches of our field sports, and is keenly relished, and almost universally practiced, throughout every part of the country. Looking at shooting as a mere sporting art, it has many things to recommend it. It can be personally enjoyed. It does not bring a man into a crowd, where reflection is almost impossible, but it leaves him at liberty to think and contemplate, and to measure out his amusements in strict accordance with his circumstances, strength, and inclination. Shooting augments the pedestrian capabilities of man, on the due balance and effective exercise of which so much of his real health of body and mind depends. Its pleasures are gently exciting, without precipitating him into a state of revelry and danger. Its well-regulated enjoyment is connected with all that is manly, energetic, and healthful. It is a wholesome, mental tonic, giving the intellect that gentle, material impulse so requisite for preventing it from sinking into the mopish nervousness and sedentary sensibility which impair a man’s power to grapple with, and successfully overcome, the necessary evils and perplexities of human life. ‘There is no one,’ says Zimmerman, ‘who may not, by quietly traversing the mountains with his gun, learn to feel how much the great secrets of nature will influence the heart, when assisted by the powers of the imagination. The sight of an agreeable landscape, the various points of view which the spacious plains afford, the freshness of the breeze, the beauties of the sky, and the appetite which a long ramble procures, will give energy to health, and make every new step seem too short. The privation of every object that can recall the idea of dependence, accompanied by domestic comfort, wholesome exercises, and useful occupations, will add vigor to thought, and inebriate the heart with the most delicious sensations.’
“We hold the sport of shooting to be susceptible of imparting the most lively gratification to all well-constituted minds, and to be a most necessary relaxation from and counterpoise to the wasteful pressure of incessant toil and watchful thought. The social and individual advantages of field sports are beyond calculation.
“A love of field sports generally, and of shooting in particular, takes us from the noise, and filth, and moral degradation incident to large towns. It places us in the midst of the cultivation of the soil—the real foundation of all national wealth and happiness. Every thing connected with the wanderings of the sportsman is calculated to foster the best and noblest feelings of the soul, and to impart to the mind the most lofty and sublime ideas of universal nature.
“To men of genius and contemplative habits, the roaming among the mountain wilds and the green fields, give rise to the most refined intellectual enjoyments. Such persons may be said to live in a world of their own, and are the recipients of joys and sorrows with which the world at large doth not intermeddle. How pure, refined, and exquisite are the delights which fill the mind from gazing on the mountain pass, the woods, the rocks, and waterfalls!”