Gimme The Life of a Wild Turkey

I watched this personal documentary a few months ago and will never forget it.

http://www.pbs.org/wnet/nature/episodes/my-life-as-a-turkey/qa-with-naturalist-joe-hutto/7389/

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As Joe Hutto drove up to his front porch in the flatlands of Central Florida the corners of his mouth turned up—he had waited a long time for this moment.

The tall, ball-capped man is usually calm and easy, yet his heart races a little as he reaches for the stainless steel bowl.

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 “These particular eggs that lie before me now represent something very important to me. Each harbors a mystery, something untamed and virtually unknown to us—an embodiment of wilderness. They are the wild turkey.” Joe Hutto

The nature lover knows what has to be done, only he isn’t quite sure how. No matter, Joe Hutto is committed and must find a way. This adventure into nature is like none he has ever known, nor will ever be part of again.

“Had I known what was in store—the difficult nature of the study and the time I was about to invest—I would have been hard pressed to justify such an intense involvement. But fortunately, I naively allowed myself to blunder into a two-year commitment that was at once exhausting, often overwhelming, enlightening and one of the most inspiring and satisfying experiences of my life.” Joe Hutto

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The adventure begins as Joe gently places the eggs in a Styrofoam container atop a thin, blue blanket. The eggs have to be turned twice a day ‘round the clock. Two days later the poor man is exhausted.

Turkey Joe, as I call him, learned to talk turkey from the chick’s dad. All through the incubation period he coos to the babies, lets them know “mom” is here. It is a long twenty-five days filled with emotion and anxiety. Will all the babies be okay? Will they survive? Most of all will they accept him?

“Gradually, a uniform line begins to develop that seems to be confined to a particular latitude, approximately one-third of the way from the larger end of the egg. The hatching activity is punctuated with rest periods lasting only a minute or two. Often, it seems that he resumes hatching in response to my vocalizations.

“At last, the end of the egg falls away, hinged by only a small piece of membrane. The little turkey pushes at the door he has created and scrambles free of the egg. The entire process has taken fifty-five minutes.” Joe Hutto

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The newborn is frozen for a moment, until he sees his “mom.” The baby boy makes a beeline for Joe. Their eyes lock and they bond, heart to heart. Joe eases his hand beneath the chick and holds him against a warm, smooth cheek.

When the births are done, Joe is “mom” to sixteen wild turkeys. Let the exhaustion begin. And the lessons. Mostly what the wild turkeys teach their parent. That they…

  • Know what is dangerous
  • What is good to eat or not
  • Can fly at 7 days
  • Are not afraid of snakes
  • Don’t like turtles
  • Have their own personality
  • Will run themselves to death if left alone

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Joe is a hands-on parent; most of his hours are spent with the chicks. The day a 6ft yellow rat snake devours a little one Joe moves into the coop. He is now with the group from dawn till after dark.

The turkeys are six weeks old when Joe teaches them the lay of the land, where to find water, the danger of cars. He finds they are curious, aware and very intelligent. They stop at a tree stump, seem upset. There is an encounter with deer, squirrels and turtles.

It is each moment that impresses a wild turkey. Life is not better in a half hour; the trees are no greener if they go deeper into the woods.

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For more than a year “Turkey Joe” will walk the woods, witness the competition of the males, journal their likes and dislikes, fears and habits, all their encounters. He has no human contact. The journey is both weary and wonderful.

Joe is exhilarated to be accepted, to be a member actually. The “kids” follow him everywhere, come when he calls; do as they’re told. Until, one night they near the cabin and everyone takes off. Except Sweet Pea. She is always with him, spends most of her time in his lap; stays close when they walk.

“Mom” calls, chides, demands but no one listens. He has been excluded. They had decided to roost in the trees and refused to obey his call to come home. It took a couple of hours but they finally return.

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Things will never be the same. His acceptance has come at a price. Joe can follow them but … he is just another bird.

May Your Glass Always Be Half Full
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16 Images to Wow Your Brain

Maxi is back … and here to thank you for all the “get well” wishes. I don’t know what to say; you are so thoughtful and kind.

I have to tell you there is a family situation going on that takes priority in my life. It is very serious and consumes a lot of my time. Soooo, if I miss a beat (post) please bear with me. Y’all are so caring I know you understand.

This is the chance to slip in a twist on today’s topic for the LBC: Names. A friend sent me these a long time ago. I gave a “name” to the last one.

What “name” would you give the others?

Wow 1 Wow 2Wow 3 Wow 4 Wow 5Wow 7 Wow 8 Wow 9 Wow 10 Wow 11 Wow 12 Wow 6 Wow 13 Wow 14 Wow 15 Wow 16“Privacy”

May Your Glass Always Be Half Full
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Bet my consorts have their own take on this topic:
Blackwatertown, Delirious, Maxi, Maria/Gaelikaa, Maria SilverFox, OCD writer, Padmum, Ramana, Shackman speaks, The Old Fossil, Will Knott..

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Bloggers Need Love Too

 

Heart_of_Oneness

To all you wonderful folks who follow me, I thank you. Your loyalty and support touch me deeply, there are no words…

See you Friday…

May Your Glass Always Be Half Full
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The Buried Blogger

flu1“The Look”

 

Ooooooh, been in bed all week with horrible headache, 102.3 temperature, watery eyes, painful sinuses, endless sneezing and blowing, achy bones … not to leave out my friend, elephant on my chest.

Bear with me, need another week. But I’ll be back.

Miss you…

Blessings ~ maxi

 

May Your Glass Always Be Half Full
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Easter Bliss

 

beautiful colorful sunset with sun rays

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Stalker In The Schoolyard

From Marilou’s journal of true stories:

The blond-haired girl set off for school with the same knot in her stomach as the day before. Will he be there today Marilou wondered? Will she feel the creepy eyes follow her everywhere? Will she be filled with fear all through the day?

School 1She scuttled along the corridor and wished she was anywhere but there.

Her hands shook so badly Marilou dropped her books. Her sky-blue eyes darted around as she snatched them back into her arms. The short, skinny girl hugged the wall as she entered the classroom. She slid beneath a desk in the back of the classroom. Her lips trembled and beads of sweat soaked her bangs.

Marilou was so mad at herself. Why couldn’t she talk to someone, tell them what was going on? That she was terrified there was a stalker who followed her every day?

Then the young girl did like always, she turned the problem on herself. You’re just being silly, she thought. Nobody is watching you. Who would care about you anyway?

The story would change drastically at the end of the day.

Marilou was exhausted. She didn’t sleep the night before and was jumpy all through the day. She just wanted get the heck outta there and go home.

She almost made it, was near the edge of the road when…

Someone snuck up from behind and yanked her by the hair. Her books fell to the ground as she reached up to grab the stranger’s wrist. Her heels dug into the ground as the stalker drug her across the playground.

The girl couldn’t understand why no one came to help. Can’t they see? Maybe they didn’t notice ‘cause they were in a hurry. Or thought the two were just having fun.

When they reached the jungle gym the monster pushed her beneath the bars. The stalker held Marilou by the back of the neck and shoved her head toward the ground. For the first time she heard his voice…

School 2

“I been watching you,” he breathed heavily. He babbled on and on that he liked her and she was his girlfriend. Then he took a stick and sketched a heart in the dirt with the initials J.Q. + M.M.

Look at that,” he snarled. “You see that?”

Not once did the boy let go of her hair; not once did a word escape her lips. It was close to an hour when he finally let her go.

The terror is still clear in her mind and she remembers his name but…

Marilou never had contact with the stalker again.

May Your Glass Always Be Half Full
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If you have a true story to tell send it to: maxi.malone8@gmail.com

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Beer Can Improve Your Brain

I first posted this article on January 28, 2009 and it’s still so popular I thought we would stroll back into…

 Cheers 1Where Everybody Knows Your Name

A Boston pub where two regulars are engrossed in a very unusual conversation about intelligence.

Norm throws his hands up, “C’mon Cliff, you’re telling me that a herd of buffalo can only move as fast as the slowest buffalo? And when the herd is hunted it’s the slowest and weakest ones that are taken out first?”

“Exactly,” Cliff declares. “It’s kinda like the human brain. It can only operate as fast as the slowest brain cells.”

“In other words” Norm continues, “this is good for the herd because it improves the speed and health of the whole group. It’s like survival of the fittest.”

Cliff shakes his head, “Right. Just like drinking too much alcohol kills brain cells. The slow and weak cells are attacked first, which means regular consumption of beer keeps eliminating the weaker brain cells and that makes the brain faster and more efficient.”

 cheers-2

Customers Norm and Cliff

 “Hey” Norm lit up, “that means I don’t have to be frugal about downing a few brewskies … the more the better actually.”

“There ya go,” Cliff smirked. “One always feels smarter after a few beers.”

Time to change the subject…

 May Your Glass Always Be Half Full
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Conrad is to blame for today’s topic of frugality. I wonder what he and the others have posted:
Blackwatertown,  Delirious, Maxi, Maria/Gaelikaa, Maria SilverFox, OCD writer, Padmum, Ramana, Shackman speaks, The Old Fossil, Will Knott..

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