A flutter of fritillaries floated through a sunny, daisy-speckled meadow. A slate turkey-unoriginally titled Slate-skipped after one, his steps light and effortless. As the butterfly paused on a flower, he lunged, closing his beak around it.
I’ve got it! I’ve got it! he thought. Slate had never caught a butterfly before, though he had long hoped to.
How exactly do I eat this? Wings first? Do I even eat the wings? Head first?
“Fire! Fire! Wake up! The barn is on fire!” the butterfly yelled. Slate spat out the butterfly in surprise. Am I dreaming? Why does that always happen whenever I’m having a good time? The butterfly hovered over Slate, giving him a judgemental stare. It opened its beak to bark orders. “Get up, fluff-for-brains! All of you! Before you die!”
Maybe I should wake up, Slate thought. Butterflies definitely don’t have beaks.
Slate didn’t wake up to the light of day or the dark of night. His eyes were assaulted by screaming, contorted faces. Turkey faces. His flockmates, their bloodless features blinking in and out in the undsteady light.
Light thrust against the shadow and smoke blurred them both. The three-sided shelter that had long been Slate’s sanctuary was now a box of terror. I need to get out of here.
Slate thrust himself down from the roost to the bare dirt of the fenced run, exciting a cloud of dust. He ran the full length of the pasture, sprinting blindly into darkness. When the far wall of the wooden fence reared in front of him, he wheeled around.
The turkey shelter was just a black rectangle of darkness, silhouetted against a wall of fire. The conflagration had been the chicken coop only the day before.
A twin blaze of fire rose beside it, the home of the Keepers.
The fire reached over the dry grass, grasping at the turkey shelter with crimson fingers. The few remaining turkeys-mostly “dumpies,” broad-breasted ones- tumbled out of the shelter as the crackling fire began the attrition of its new fuel.
“Jump the fence!” Slate heard a voice above him. A turkey was perched on top of the six foot fence.
The fence presented little obstacle. Slate had never left the fence. He prefered the inside. It was safer.
That night, however, he flew over the fence with no hesitation.
A rafter of turkeys was already scattered around the fence, eyes glued to the fire, speaking in panicked tones.
The fire loomed like a predator, consuming all in its path. Slate’s feet itched to take him to the woods that existed only a couple hundred paces away. But they remained planted. He feared being alone just as much as he feared the fire.
So he remained, watching as the last stragglers hopped the fence. When the last birds hit the ground, he bolted forward. The effort was unnecessary. The flock pulled him along towards the trees like a surging river.
The group paused below the shade of the dark forest, not sure whether to go on.
“Fly!” A big tom flapped his wings and landed in a tree.
His voice was echoed by a multitude of voices as the swarming masses followed, crying “Fly!” and flapping their wings. They burdened the slender young trees and broke a few. Most of the dumpies contented themselves with the forest floor.
The flock chattered among themselves long into the night, comparing stories of fear and terror. I wish I could block their voices out, thought Slate. He didn’t want to remind himself of where he was or what had happened. All he could do was set his jaw and close his eyes.
He longed to get back to his peaceful dreams, but his sleep yielded only nightmares. The butterfly dream was the last peace he would feel for a long time.
Background:
A farm existed in northern Wisconsin. It had a house, a perfectly safe and predator proof chicken coop with a covered run, and a 3 sided turkey shelter with no more than a 6 foot wooden fence, allowed free range as long as they went in at night. A heat lamp fire consumed it all at 11:00 on December 9th.
The human keepers were unfortunately casualties. The chickens died, ironically victims of the the everything-proof-excepting-fire shed. Most of the turkeys escaped their pen. The escaped birds fled to the woods.
There are two flocks of turkeys already in the woods, a male flock-Spur- and a female flock-Oak.
These flocks have well established pecking orders and aren’t interested in allowing in newcomers at more than one or two at a time.
It is the morning of December 10th. It snowed overnight after all that north wind, but only enough to cover the ground. The domestic birds aren’t going to do well surviving weather, finding food and water, or evading predators, etc.
Flocks:
There may be exceptional members in the flocks. Turkeys in chicken flocks, domestics in wild flocks, etc. In that case they will probably be treated as misfits in society, as they are.
Spur Flock: Wild Turkey Tom Flock. This flock is formed in fall. No shipping, wild turkeys take their mates in spring.
Tom turkey hierarchy (which is an oligarchy) begins to be determined not long after hatch. All of the male chicks in a clutch become a sibling group, or as I like to call it, a “sib.” Pecking order is determined in this sib and the dominant male is the leader of the sib. Sibs will be named after their leader. Sibs are extremely loyal to one another and back each other up. They are a unit and never separate for their lives. If a chick is adopted into a clutch at a young age, he becomes a sib member. If there is only one male in a clutch, he is a sib in himself. Jake sibs (sibs under one year) fight other jake sibs as units. Usually the one with the most members win. Also, flocks fight one another as units. Anyways, the sib unit that makes it to the top leads the flock with the leader of that sib unit reigning supreme. Jake sibs never are experienced enough to fight their way to the top. Jakes are typically about 8 months old.
Once the winter flock is established it is very stable. Typically no challenging is going on.
I didn’t make up or exaggerate any of this.
Ranks: (this’ll prolly fall apart because of a lack of peeps)
Lead Tom: Leader of the flock. He is backed up and advised by his sib, which is the leading sib.
Leading Wingman: a lead tom’s wingman
Sib Leader: A leader of a sib. Lonely if you’re the only one in the sib.
Sib Wingman: wingman to the leader of a sib. You have no power, but at least you have friends.
Tom turkey hierarchy (which is an oligarchy) begins to be determined not long after hatch. All of the male chicks in a clutch become a sibling group, or as I like to call it, a “sib.” Pecking order is determined in this sib and the dominant male is the leader of the sib. Sibs will be named after their leader. Sibs are extremely loyal to one another and back each other up. They are a unit and never separate for their lives. If a chick is adopted into a clutch at a young age, he becomes a sib member. If there is only one male in a clutch, he is a sib in himself. Jake sibs (sibs under one year) fight other jake sibs as units. Usually the one with the most members win. Also, flocks fight one another as units. Anyways, the sib unit that makes it to the top leads the flock with the leader of that sib unit reigning supreme. Jake sibs never are experienced enough to fight their way to the top. Jakes are typically about 8 months old.
Once the winter flock is established it is very stable. Typically no challenging is going on.
I didn’t make up or exaggerate any of this.
Ranks: (this’ll prolly fall apart because of a lack of peeps)
Lead Tom: Leader of the flock. He is backed up and advised by his sib, which is the leading sib.
Leading Wingman: a lead tom’s wingman
Sib Leader: A leader of a sib. Lonely if you’re the only one in the sib.
Sib Wingman: wingman to the leader of a sib. You have no power, but at least you have friends.
Oak Flock: Wild turkey hen flock. This flock is formed in fall. No shipping, mates are chosen in spring. Flock hierarchy (more of a democracy) is placed but not as important as in Spur Flock. It is every woman for herself, the most dominant hen is leader, most submissive lowest in rank, everything in between.
Lead Hen: As the leader of her flock, the lead hen is respected. Other birds listen to her opinions first. A good lead hen will then act like a mediator, listen to all opinions, and let the majority choose what to do. A bad lead hen will just take advantage of her flock’s respect and eat and drink first and try to make all the flock’s decisions. (Which usually ultimately fails, since she’s probably a horrible turkey being, meaning she probably has no friends and she’s only one hen against a whole flock, so they won’t listen to her and a new hen will take her place.) Jennys (hens under one year, typically around 8 months old) aren’t ever respected enough to become lead hen.
Hen: a hen. Unlike those bros in spur flock she might actually have friends that aren’t from the same family. She has a role in society, higher or lower.
Lead Hen: As the leader of her flock, the lead hen is respected. Other birds listen to her opinions first. A good lead hen will then act like a mediator, listen to all opinions, and let the majority choose what to do. A bad lead hen will just take advantage of her flock’s respect and eat and drink first and try to make all the flock’s decisions. (Which usually ultimately fails, since she’s probably a horrible turkey being, meaning she probably has no friends and she’s only one hen against a whole flock, so they won’t listen to her and a new hen will take her place.) Jennys (hens under one year, typically around 8 months old) aren’t ever respected enough to become lead hen.
Hen: a hen. Unlike those bros in spur flock she might actually have friends that aren’t from the same family. She has a role in society, higher or lower.
Domestic Turkey Flock: Has little identity. Thus the lack of name. Both sexes exist in this flock, shipping is allowed. Flock hierarchy is dealt with on a bird to bird basis. Higher up birds have higher rank, lower birds have a lower rank. It’s all based on power. In this flock, few birds actually survive for a year, so those birds who do are respected. Nobody really knows who’s related to whom, most are hatchery stock for meat. Those who do live for a year might have chicks, but family is really irrelevant, though if you want to include it on your form, fine.
Special Terms:
Dumpy/dumpies: broad-breasted birds. They are almost always less than a year old because they are meat birds. They can’t fly well. They are pretty useless in a survival scenario so I’m interested to see if anyone will make one.
Rangers: heritage birds. Very proud of their ranger status. Think they can survive anything.
Dumpy’s uncle: a very boring or complacent bird, an insult to rangers. No relation to a monkey’s uncle.
Fluff-for-brains: stupid
Acorn peckers: wild turkeys. Used when rangers have their typical awe for them but also disgust for their aloofness.
Corn peckers: acorn peckers but if you leave out the “a.”
Far Rangers: wild turkeys when you want to maintain that you are awed by wild turkeys but are proud of your ranger status.
Wood Walkers: wild turkeys when you are just awed by them.
Ranks:
Lead Tom or Hen: the dominant bird. Over one year. Leads the flock and decision making. Typically asks for the opinion of all but not jakes or jennies.
Tom or Hen: some are lower in rank, some are higher. All respected.
Jake or Jenny: Birds under one year, can be quite young. Low in hierarchy. Kinda overlooked by the older birds.
Special Terms:
Dumpy/dumpies: broad-breasted birds. They are almost always less than a year old because they are meat birds. They can’t fly well. They are pretty useless in a survival scenario so I’m interested to see if anyone will make one.
Rangers: heritage birds. Very proud of their ranger status. Think they can survive anything.
Dumpy’s uncle: a very boring or complacent bird, an insult to rangers. No relation to a monkey’s uncle.
Fluff-for-brains: stupid
Acorn peckers: wild turkeys. Used when rangers have their typical awe for them but also disgust for their aloofness.
Corn peckers: acorn peckers but if you leave out the “a.”
Far Rangers: wild turkeys when you want to maintain that you are awed by wild turkeys but are proud of your ranger status.
Wood Walkers: wild turkeys when you are just awed by them.
Ranks:
Lead Tom or Hen: the dominant bird. Over one year. Leads the flock and decision making. Typically asks for the opinion of all but not jakes or jennies.
Tom or Hen: some are lower in rank, some are higher. All respected.
Jake or Jenny: Birds under one year, can be quite young. Low in hierarchy. Kinda overlooked by the older birds.
Genetics: Follow genetics since it’s my pet peeve. If it’s a wild turkey, it’s probably a bronze bird, just a hint.
Breed: 3 turkey breeds. Wild, heritage, broad breasted. And mixes between these. Whatever chicken breed or mix you like.
Survival Factors:
This is what wild turkeys know. But I don’t expect your domestic birds to know this.
Nuts, seeds, dormant invertebrates, field corn, crabapples, plants, berries and hazelnuts are the primary foods that wild turkeys eat. A big bonus would be the frogsicle, a frozen wood frog. They typically forage in the young forest. After heavy snows that cannot be scratched through, wild turkeys “practice patience.” They fast and roost in trees, subsisting off a supply of fat that was hopefully put on in fall, scratch along a deer trail, eat a few tree buds. The domestic turkeys will probably survive though they will be very hangry about it.
In blizzards and cold, turkeys move to the old growth forest, which is mostly old hemlock. The branches yield more shelter. Turkeys prefer south-facing slopes, they get less snow on them.
Bobcats and owls will prey on full grown turkeys. Eagles will as well if they’re stupid enough to get isolated from rhe flock. Coyotes and fox are rare predators and usually pretty ineffective as long as you aren’t roosting on the ground. Wolves will eat turkeys. Very young turkeys are what everyone wants to eat and they have a lot more predators. Fox, raccoon, badgers, weasels, the ones that eat grown turkeys, and more!
This is what wild turkeys know. But I don’t expect your domestic birds to know this.
Nuts, seeds, dormant invertebrates, field corn, crabapples, plants, berries and hazelnuts are the primary foods that wild turkeys eat. A big bonus would be the frogsicle, a frozen wood frog. They typically forage in the young forest. After heavy snows that cannot be scratched through, wild turkeys “practice patience.” They fast and roost in trees, subsisting off a supply of fat that was hopefully put on in fall, scratch along a deer trail, eat a few tree buds. The domestic turkeys will probably survive though they will be very hangry about it.
In blizzards and cold, turkeys move to the old growth forest, which is mostly old hemlock. The branches yield more shelter. Turkeys prefer south-facing slopes, they get less snow on them.
Bobcats and owls will prey on full grown turkeys. Eagles will as well if they’re stupid enough to get isolated from rhe flock. Coyotes and fox are rare predators and usually pretty ineffective as long as you aren’t roosting on the ground. Wolves will eat turkeys. Very young turkeys are what everyone wants to eat and they have a lot more predators. Fox, raccoon, badgers, weasels, the ones that eat grown turkeys, and more!
Name:
Oak or Spur Flock:
Rank:
Sib (for Spur):
Age:
Breed:
Appearance:
History:
Personality:
Other:
Domestic Turkey Flock Form
Name:
Rank:
Age:
Breed:
Appearance:
Mate:
History:
Personality:
Other:
Occasionally a domestic turkey might join a wild flock pre-roleplay, and vice versa. Maybe different groups will split off. So feel free to make exceptions to my rules. I reserve the to deny a form though.
Yeah I know I made it way more realistic than I had to.
Character Page
Anyone can join!
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