may have seen the bird to discover the nest. Indeed, few Turkeys' nests
are found, unless the female has been suddenly started from them, or a
cunning Lynx, Fox, or Crow has sucked the eggs and left their shells scattered
about.
Turkey hens not unfrequently prefer islands for depositing their eggs
and rearing their young, probably because such places are less frequented
by hunters, and because the great masses of drifted timber which usually
accumulate at their heads, may protect and save them in cases of great
emergency. When I have found these birds in such situations, and with
young, I have always observed that a single discharge of a gun made
them run immediately to the pile of drifted wood, and conceal themselves
in it. I have often walked over these masses, which are frequently from
ten to twenty feet in height, in search of the game which I knew to be
concealed in them.
When an enemy passes within sight of a female, while laying or sitting,
she never moves, unless she knows that she has been discovered,
but crouches lower until he has passed. I have frequently approached
within five or six paces of a nest, of which I was previously aware, on
assuming an air of carelessness, and whistling or talking to myself, the
female remaining undisturbed ; whereas if I went cautiously towards it,
she would never suffer me to approach within twenty paces, but would run
off, with her tail spread on one side, to a distance of twenty or thirty
yards, when assuming a stately gait, she would walk about deliberately,
uttering every now and then a cluck. They seldom abandon their nest,
when it has been discovered by men; but, I believe, never go near it
again, when a snake or other animal has sucked any of the eggs. If the
eggs have been destroyed or carried off, the female soon yelps again for
a male; but, in general, she rears only a single brood each season.
Several hens sometimes associate together, I believe for their mutual
safety, deposit their eggs in the same nest, and rear their broods together.
I once found three sitting on forty-two eggs. In such cases, the
common nest is always watched by one of the females, so that no Crow,
Raven, or perhaps even Pole-cat, dares approach it.
The mother will not leave her eggs, when near hatching, under any
circumstances, while life remains. She will even allow an enclosure to
be made around her, and thus suffer imprisonment, rather than abandon
them. I once witnessed the hatching of a brood of Turkeys, which I
watched for the purpose of securing them together with the parent. I
concealed myself, on the ground within a very few feet, and saw her raise
herself half the length of her legs, look anxiously upon the eggs, cluck
with a sound peculiar to the mother on such occasions, carefully remove
each half-empty shell, and with her bill caress and dry the young birds,
that already stood tottering and attempting to make their way out of the
nest. Yes, I have seen this, and have left mother and young to better
care than mine could have proved,—to the care of their Creator and
mine. I have seen them all emerge from the shell, and, in a few moments
after, tumble, roll, and push each other forward, with astonishing and
inscrutable instinct.
Before leaving the nest with her young brood, the mother shakes herself
in a violent manner, picks and adjusts the feathers about her belly,
and assumes quite a different aspect. She alternately inclines her eyes
obliquely upwards and sideways, stretching out her neck, to discover
hawks or other enemies, spreads her wings a little as she walks, and
softly clucks to keep her innocent offspring close to her. They move
slowly along, and as the hatching generally takes place in the afternoon,
they frequently return to the nest to spend the first night there. After
this, they remove to some distance, keeping on the highest undulated
grounds, the mother dreading rainy weather, which is extremely dangerous
to the young, in this tender state, when they are only covered by a
kind of soft hairy down, of surprising delicacy. In very rainy seasons,
Turkeys are scarce, for if once completely wetted, the young seldom
recover. To prevent the disastrous effects of rainy weather, the mother,
like a skilful physician, plucks the buds of the spice-wood bush, and gives
them to her young.
In about a fortnight, the young birds, which had previously rested on
the ground, leave it and fly, at night, to some very large low branch,
where they place themselves under the deeply curved wings of their kind
and careful parent, dividing themselves for that purpose into two nearly
equal parties. After this, they leave the woods during the day, and approach
the natural glades or prairies, in search of strawberries, and subsequently
of dewberries, blackberries and grasshoppers, thus obtaining
abundant food, and enjoying the beneficial influence of the sun's rays.
They roll themselves in deserted ants' nests, to clear their growing feathers
of the loose scales, and prevent ticks and other vermin from attacking
them, these insects being unable to bear the odour of the earth in
which ants have been.