Part one of a two-part series
Wild turkeys fly better than domestic ones, but his mother’s farm-bred Bourbon Red turkeys could fly well, too, maintained Sumner Sheldon when writing about his early-1900s boyhood in Houston County.
His mother Ada Sheldon, who raised turkeys during most of her lifetime, often used broody hens (chickens) as incubators, for her turkey eggs, which could improve the hatch rate. Turkey hens were evidently not as reliable, and turkey eggs were sensitive to environmental fluctuations. Once hatched, the turkey poults were well nurtured by their hatching mothers, be they turkey hens or their foster parent chicken hens. But eventually, the turkey poults all became turkeys.
Once hatched, turkey poults would search for whatever they could find outdoors, but on the Sheldon farm they were also fed chick feed, mostly cracked corn sifted to size at Blumentritt’s Mound Prairie Store. As they grew, their diets included wheat, oats and corn. During grasshopper season, turkeys would roam far and wide for that delicacy.
Homemade cottage cheese was a Sheldon farm specialty for her turkeys. Recalling all the extra work in preparation, senior citizen Sumner considered, “I never knew mama’s reason for feeding cottage, “Dutch,” cheese,” but he recalled the poults being “ravenous for it.”
Thinking back on what was known about animal nutrition back in the early 1900s, Sumner the writer, concluded, “I believe Dutch cheese, being nothing but clabbered and cooked skim milk, added the minerals and animal protein so lacking in omnivorous diets of that day.”
Sumner considered that the cottage cheese may have been intended to keep the poults from straying too far from the farmyard. His mother was observant, and if the turkeys did not return home before sundown, someone was sent to find them and drive them home where they would kept overnight in the “Old Barn.” His mother was known for her considerable success in raising turkeys.
As a boy, Sumner observed turkeys to have a stronger flocking instinct than did chickens. Unless it was nesting time, seeing a lone turkey indicated something was wrong. A flock of content turkeys would walk slowly through meadows and pastures while scratching for worms or dining on insects all the while communicating softly with “a gentle turr, turr.”
They also had at least two different alarm calls, one described as a gentle “whit,” which prompted every turkey to raise its head and be watchful until satisfied that no danger was present, and then it would be back to feeding and visiting.
But if a loud, sharp “quit” was was heard, every turkey, old or young, went into action – either running or flying. Sumner explained it was a similar alarm as issued by quail or partridge, but turkey poults were too large to hide under leaves and therefore had to flee from danger.
Adult turkeys, wild or domestic, are known for being able to take care of themselves; it is just the young that are susceptible to threats from weather, disease and predators. Adult turkeys were known for fending off predators by attacking them with their powerful wings and long elbows.
Ada Sheldon bred geese as well as turkeys, including a short-legged gander and a larger, taller gobbler that were dedicated enemies that repeatedly engaged in farmyard combat. Each time, the gander would grab the gobbler’s beard with his powerful beak and hold on throughout. The gobbler was therefore held so close to the gander as to render useless his greater size and reach. Thus evenly matched, the two repeatedly pounded each other with their wings until so fatigued that they leaned against each other until their strength was renewed enough to resume with another round of pugilism.
Sumner said the bout might last several rounds, continuing for as long as an hour. “Several times I saw them give up the battle, and both so exhausted they could only stagger a few steps and collapse in a helpless heap.”
One of those fierce engagements commenced on a Sunday in early June of 1915 when guests were enjoying a visit on the porch. Sumner’s mom leaned out the door, asking, “Why doesn’t somebody do something about those two old fools?” When no one responded to resolve the ruckus, 4-year-old Sumner decided he should do what mama wanted.
When the barnyard combatants were taking a break, the young boy ran between the birds, which only caused the battle to begin again with Sumner in the midst of the melee. “Oh! How they pounded me, toenails scratched my head, and never for an instant, did they leave off their wing beating of me and each other.”
Running in for a rescue was older brother, Frank, who grabbed his sibling and carried him into the house. “Mama stopped my nose bleed,” continued Sumner, “fixed my toenail scratches and soothed my bruised body. After I was repaired and mama said, ‘He’ll be all right,’ everybody laughed at me and had a lot of fun at my expense.”
So the future author learned the hard way, and at an early age, exactly how brutal were the bony elbows and how powerful were the wings of both turkeys and geese.
Courtship behavior of a turkey gobbler was described by Sumner as “ridiculous … They gobble and strut and prance and almost trample the poor hens into the ground.” This led to intervention by humans who wanted fertile eggs. There were supply houses that sold leather and canvas turkey saddles, which could be strapped on the backs of non-cooperative turkey hens, to which Sumner referred as having “ideas of women’s lib” and preferring to avoid injuries from claws and spurs during mating.
“Without those protective saddles, turkey hens with modern ideas didn’t lay fertile eggs,” informed author Sheldon. “My mom, who was a women’s libber a lifetime before modern misses ever heard of it, especially hated turkey gobblers.”
To be continued …
Sources: “Now and Then” newspaper columns by Sumner Sheldon, published April 10 and 17, 1986 by the Houston Gazette and Country Journal
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