- May 11, 2010
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Last summer one of our hay fields was decimated by army worms. Obliterated by tiny ugly worms only a few tough fescue clumps remained.
We could do nothing to help our land. Our grass withered and I cut it as directed. Not wanting to use powerful chemicals which would have seeped in the nearby creek we let the pasture die. The once gloriously green hay field was a barren mess by fall. I was deeply saddened and asked for God's help. Every day the dead field seemed to mock me.
Then the wild turkeys arrived. They came in single file. One by one. The dominant hen had a conversation with the younger hens. Teenage poults waited at the treeline standing perfectly still. The hens divided and went to the poults. I heard much turkey talk as heads bobbed. I was fascinated as I watched from my front porch, binoculars pressed against my face.
The turkeys and poults formed a line and slowly advanced. Occasionally, they formed a great circle and slowly made their way across the dead grass only to form a staggered line. A hen would pause, bob her head, and several poults would run toward to watch her use her beak to dig at the ground. They copied her motions and tore at the ground with much excitement.
Not far behind the line were Killdeer. Darting about busily on slender legs, they took advantage of the tiny holes the turkeys made. They buried their beak up to the head as they worked. Meanwhile, the turkeys were very organized. Slowly and with incredible stealth, they made their way across the pasture and in front of my house. I sat on the brick steps and watched them graze and plow the dirt with their beaks. Adult hens noted my presence and simply put themselves between the poults and me. They worked their way across my pasture and faded into the tree line.
This happened many times and I was able to watch the poults mature into good looking birds. Occasionally, they were joined by Killdeer, quail, meadow larks and our dead pasture was covered in tiny holes and the occasional sunbath areas by the time the first cold snap arrived.
This is the result of their hard work
I give thanks every morning as the sun rises.
We could do nothing to help our land. Our grass withered and I cut it as directed. Not wanting to use powerful chemicals which would have seeped in the nearby creek we let the pasture die. The once gloriously green hay field was a barren mess by fall. I was deeply saddened and asked for God's help. Every day the dead field seemed to mock me.
Then the wild turkeys arrived. They came in single file. One by one. The dominant hen had a conversation with the younger hens. Teenage poults waited at the treeline standing perfectly still. The hens divided and went to the poults. I heard much turkey talk as heads bobbed. I was fascinated as I watched from my front porch, binoculars pressed against my face.
The turkeys and poults formed a line and slowly advanced. Occasionally, they formed a great circle and slowly made their way across the dead grass only to form a staggered line. A hen would pause, bob her head, and several poults would run toward to watch her use her beak to dig at the ground. They copied her motions and tore at the ground with much excitement.
Not far behind the line were Killdeer. Darting about busily on slender legs, they took advantage of the tiny holes the turkeys made. They buried their beak up to the head as they worked. Meanwhile, the turkeys were very organized. Slowly and with incredible stealth, they made their way across the pasture and in front of my house. I sat on the brick steps and watched them graze and plow the dirt with their beaks. Adult hens noted my presence and simply put themselves between the poults and me. They worked their way across my pasture and faded into the tree line.
This happened many times and I was able to watch the poults mature into good looking birds. Occasionally, they were joined by Killdeer, quail, meadow larks and our dead pasture was covered in tiny holes and the occasional sunbath areas by the time the first cold snap arrived.
This is the result of their hard work
I give thanks every morning as the sun rises.
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