Original Post May 2007
This morning I saw a turkey, presumably a female, possibly looking for a place to brood. I hope she chooses well, for last year she didn’t (if it is the same one, that is). Please, please find a better spot.
This is not just because turkeys are neat to have around, although they definitely are. Birds of New York by Elon Howard Eaton (1910)
Just the other day my boys, 5 and 7, re-discovered the nest she had last year. Unfortunately, last year’s brooding spot was altogether too close to the house (only about 100 yards or so, and actually fewer than 75 feet from our garden). Thus, she was (unintentionally) scared off the nest more than a few times by us or our dog. We tried not to, but there was really nothing we could do, skittish as she was. At first, when we didn’t know she was there (and afterwards, even) we were lucky not to break an arm as we leapt back in fear as the huge, frightened and angry mother-not-to-be burst forth from her cluster of high grass and grape vines.
So, the boys re-discovered the nest. 14 eggs, still there from last year. Well, what would you do with an egg if you were 7 years old? That’s right (They know not to disturb incubating eggs, and were aware that these were abandoned and dead).
Actually, the 7 year old stopped when I saw his intentions from where I was working 100 yards away in the front yard, from where I screamed for him to stop. I had to scream two or three times, but he stopped. Ideas are harder to stop though. The 5 year old, who had not thought of it on his own, carried to fruition his big brother’s idea. I screamed again. He wouldn’t stop.
I could hear the explosion from where I stood. Not a cracking noise. Not a breaking noise. An explosion. An explosion of the pent up gasses and putrid contents of a 12 month old abandoned and rotting turkey egg.
To his credit, the 5 year old only puked a little bit. His mother and brother gagged and stumbled from the scene. I swear I could smell it from where I stood. Something splattered on his hands and clothes. Something from inside the egg. Now, when they tell the story they refer to it as when he got liquid baby turkey all over him. If that sounds disgusting that’s because it is.
The moral? Go break any abandoned eggs in the autumn. I assumed a fox, coyote or something would find and dispose of them, but I was sadly, sadly mistaken.
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