The Evening Turkey Show
by Robert Mumby
Part 1: Taking Flight, or RVM’s Green Runway
It was not a dark and stormy night but darkening twilight, warm and with a clear sky. I was walking back to the Plaza after the fine performance of Hula O Nuku Aina when I noticed several turkeys in the Manor driveway, heading toward the “South Forty.” It was nearly dark so they were most likely heading for some trees on which to spend the night. I detoured to the upper South Forty walkway to watch the turkeys fly into the trees.
One turkey was on its chosen branch, some 15 feet up on an oak tree next to the sidewalk. It looked around nervously, no doubt wondering if it was high enough to avoid Stan and his minions (not knowing the ferocious Dave has taken over). This turkey must be an outcast; I have noticed that the rest of the flock will chase it away.
The other turkeys were at the top of the steeply sloping lawn. Suddenly one sprinted down hill, its long thick legs a blur of speed and its neck stretched far forward. Then with a running jump and unfolding of its wings, it was airborne. Strong strokes of its mighty wings propelled it up and up to finally hit near the top of a feathery-limbed conifer about 100 feet high. It hit at speed and branches flew up and down and crossways, and then the bird disappeared as the branches closed about it. More experienced turkeys aim for more open and top branches.