The turkey stood on the grass, looking up in the drizzling rain.
I stood on my patio, watching and wondering and wowed.
What’s a turkey doing in west Manatee County?
I didn’t expect another sighting of the bird, but I now see the wild turkey almost daily.
The turkey is a “she” now, not an “it” — known by a variety of names depending on which neighbor is commenting on her beauty and mystique.
She’s known as Harriet, Gertrude, Gladys, Mary and Taystee.
And she’s been living in the neighborhood for months, apparently staying healthy on the nuts and berries she forages from our bountiful landscape and some snacks from our kind neighbors.
When I see her, I’m reminded of a pivotal experience that brought me to Florida. I’d flown from Chicago to Fort Myers for job interviews and, right outside the airport doors, I saw wild pigs on the runways.
Until that day, the only free “wild” animals I’d seen were squirrels, gophers, deer, birds, lake fish and the occasional rat in the Chicago subway.
Each new wildlife encounter since my move to Florida in 2005 has felt memorable, sometimes monumental, as was the case several years ago, when one morning wife Connie and I came across wild turkeys in Myakka River State Park.
We were on a road near the cabins built of palm tree trunks in the 1930s by the Civilian Conservation Corps when we saw the turkeys, maybe six of them, including young birds.
For those who’ve only seen sad, lethargic turkeys in petting zoos, I’ll point out: Turkeys are fast, especially the lean, leggy females.
At the park ranger’s office in Myakka, we learned that habit destruction has threatened Florida’s wild turkey population and driven the birds from their natural habitat.
Perhaps that’s how Harriet landed in west Manatee.
Her residency is a question we can’t answer.
We also learned from the park ranger that wild turkeys are social animals, form communal groups and flock together.
So Harriet’s solitude also presents a question.
Will I perhaps see her in the future in the rain with tom turkey or a rafter of chicks?
Next week: Yes, turkeys can fly. And hurricanes can move them on their way.
This column was published in The Islander newspaper.
Archives for The Islander are online here.