Tuesday morning’s walk started out in the usual way, the dog and I setting out in the sunshine to see, or in his case, sniff, what was what on a sunny late-winter day. Before we’d gone four houses from our door, we were well and truly astonished. We surprised a turkey on the other side of a car in a neighbor’s driveway. And when I say surprised, I mean surprised.
We passed that car and found ourselves about a foot-and-a-half from a male turkey. How do I know it was a male? Its size. About four feet tall. And close. I’d never given any thought to whether or not turkeys can look surprised. It turns out, they can. And not just in their expression. That bird’s feet were hustling away from us a beat ahead of its neck and head.
We must have looked like cartoons. Except for Rascal. He glanced at that enormous bird, broader and taller than he is, and shrugged it off. No biggie, he said. Just keep walking. Step along now. Seen one turkey, seen ‘em all.
That evening, my husband and I were out around dusk and came upon the whole local flock of turkeys. The females were feeding. The males were strutting their stuff. They had puffed themselves up and tucked in their necks. They were fanning their tail feathers and dragging their wings, while marching slowly around in what they no doubt felt was a stately fashion. They were, in their own estimation, birds to be admired.
The females, as I mentioned, were feeding. They did not seem to be paying any attention to the males. In fact, when a female would turn away from a displaying male to avail herself of browse in a new location, he would parade over to position himself in her sightline again. At no time did any of the females seem impressed, but that didn’t stop the males from trying.
Birds that wintered elsewhere are coming back. Once again, a glance skyward is apt to include turkey vultures, those fabulous fliers. About the only time you’ll see them flap their wings is when they take off. After that, they soar on thermals of warm air, making tiny adjustments to their wing positions to get where they want to go. When a duck flies, it looks like it’s working hard. Vultures, not so much. They look like masters of the air.
Also back is the Canada goose that likes to sit on rooftops. Most of the Canada geese in this area have taken to hanging around all year. Either this one migrates, or it gives up roof perching during the winter. Whatever the case, the bird put in its spring appearance this week. I found it in the usual way, once again looking around for the source of honking and finding it neither on the water or on the wing.
Aha, I thought, it’s that goose that sits on roofs. This time it was on top of the tallest building on Nixon Road. It talked another goose into sitting up there with it for a while, but the newcomer didn’t stay. The original goose did. It just likes sitting up there. Maybe it doesn’t like crowds.
Elsewhere, in the annual goose-versus-swan drama along Green Road, a pair of Canada geese has taken early possession of the primo nesting spot on the no-name pond. Last spring, I happened by during the knock-down-drag-‘em-out battle—all wings and outrage–between a pair of geese and a pair of swans over who would get to nest on top of the muskrat lodge.
Swans had usurped the geese the previous year, and I expected them to prevail for a second year, given their size and mean-temperament advantage. But the geese won, and they’re taking no chances this year. They got their early, and they’re both sitting on the lodge. She’s where you’d expect her to be if they’d already built a nest, and he’s down the side, a couple feet away. They’re clearly ready to defend their site.
Hooded mergansers are back at Thurston Pond, the males all showy and the females almost invisible in low-light conditions. The woods resounds with flickers, alternating between drumming on trees and issuing their series on single-note cries. Downy and red-bellied woodpeckers laugh when the flickers rest. Red-winged blackbirds, in ever greater numbers, don’t wait for an opening. They just chrrr.
It snowed again yesterday, but the snow didn’t stick. It was in the twenties this morning, but the sun’s out this afternoon. Magnolia buds have gotten velvety. Forsythia buds are yellowing up. Locust buds are mauve. Spring may come.
21 March 2025