The past two years since Rupert (my beloved turkey) was killed, I had somewhat of an underlying depression. There’s been little new life here…until this spring. My turkey hens weren’t hatching their eggs and my sole male, Ira, wasn’t taking on his role as the king around here. Rupert literally ruled the roost and this farm. His presence has been missed by not only me, but all the animals.
A couple weeks ago my single turkey hen suddenly appeared after she went missing for weeks. I presumed she had nested in the woods and was never coming home. Nesting females are sitting ducks for predators. When they leave my property to nest, Luca is unable to protect them. His job is here at the farm, not patrolling the forest.
When the turkey hen appeared I was elated. Unfortunately, she didn’t have babies with her. At least she was still alive. I fed her and made my way back inside. As I approached my back porch I heard the telltale peep of a turkey poult (baby turkey). Was I hearing things? My heart skipped as I looked underneath the porch. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. Then, I saw a single tiny poult staring back at me!
The baby talk commenced (of course), and to my surprise the little one not only responded vocally, it began waddling towards me. It’s rare for a baby animal to come to a human…like Rupert had done years earlier.
The way the poult moved was concerning. It shuffled along slowly closing the 5 foot gap between us. I noticed the awful dirt and rock nest its mother had made. It wasn’t ideal for cradling breakable eggs and soft poults but at least there was protection from the elements.
As soon as the baby was close enough I reached under the deck and scooped it up. It closed its eyes from the sun exposure as I inspected it. It had a bad leg. My finding this baby was going to save its life.
I used my phone flashlight to see how many eggs the mother had left. There were three. Hopefully they would hatch.
I brought the baby inside to warm her and address her leg. I don’t know if it’s a girl or not yet, but the name Gertie kept repeating in my head – so I call her Gertie for now. I went through the usual fixes for baby bird leg issues and gently splint her. I got her to drink a bit of water but she wasn’t interested in eating. Not eating can be the kiss of death.
It was touch and go for several days. I was able to get her to eat through a syringe at first then we graduated to bits of scrambled egg. Just look at those straight legs!
Despite having straight legs now, they were still weak and her balance was unsteady. I kept her with me and, unlike baby chicks who are like herding cats, Gertie would sit quietly next to me, calling to me if I was away too long.
By the fifth day she was eating voraciously on her own. I decided to take her outside for a little sun and to introduce her to her daddy, Ira. Upon meeting both her parents they all seemed to recognize one another as the same species. There was definite interest on all sides. I’d love to leave Gertie with them but I can’t risk losing her. I’ll give her a few more weeks under my care until her wings are better developed.
I let Gertie have outside time as often as I can. Bugs be warned…she’s fearless. Even large insects don’t stand a chance around her. Gertie is a survivor and my little miracle turkey. With any luck she will be as kind and loved as my perfect Rupert was. Either way, she was the gift I needed to put a strong wind back into my farm life.
Update: Unfortunately, the other eggs never had a chance to hatch. While the nest location the hen selected protected her from the elements and large predators, it didn’t protect her from small predators. After I brought Gertie inside a possum got under the porch and ate the three hatching eggs. Luca was unable to get under the porch to help the mother turkey. Next year I’ll collect my hen and her eggs and locate her to a safe enclosure…hopefully she won’t beat me up too badly.