One morning last week I was invited out of bed by the promise of a couple of turks singing on the kitchen table. I bolted out of bed – wouldn’t you? With coffee in hand, I sat in the kitchen rocker and marveled at the lilting tones of the newly-hatched turkey poults in the incubator that sat prominently on our kitchen table for over a week. Turkeys, I’ve marveled, make a wealth of interesting sounds, the quintessential “gobble” being only one of them. The chorus coming from the incubator was a collection of soft whistling, contented sounds – quite different from the panicked cheep-cheeps that we had been hearing from the chicks as they emerged. I continued to rock in the chair, sip the fresh coffee, take in the soft warbling; the cumulative effect of all of these was sublime, a fleeting but singular pleasure of being alive at that particular moment. It was a wonderful way to wake up.
Once we actually peeked in, we witnessed not just the two poults that Andrew spotted minutes earlier, but a third, newly-hatched addition. 4 turkey poults from this hatch of eggs received from a friend! Bonus Turks, I call them. They’re a mix of Bourbon Red and Narragansett, two heritage breeds. Next week promises the arrival of the fancy Blue Slate heritage turkey eggs that I ordered in March, giving the incubator another round of duty, with an ever-so-slightly-more-experienced operator, monitoring the temp and humidity more competently. She hopes.
It’s time you met the cast of the incubated hatch, no? On the left is one of the Turks; a Lavender Orpington sits in the middle, all grey and lovely. The barred feathers on the right belong to one of the Americanas.
Two Turks and an Americana. Notice the knob just above each Turk’s beak. It’s the beginning of the snood, I think.
Two Americanas and a Lavender Orpington. Don’t the Americanas have striking eye markings?
I think all of this exciting Turkish talk is best enjoyed with the following They Might Be Giants song, but that’s nobody’s business but the Turks.’