The Turkey Problem

Living as I do off South Road in Chilmark, it was my road and my neighbors who gained so much infamy during the territorial turkey debaucle of just a few years ago.  While the prime suspect, as we all know, is no longer with us and remains, as far as we know, in cold storage at the Chilmark Police Department, turkeys still have free reign over Old Ridge Hill, and many of the surrounding neighborhoods.  I, like most others who have come to the Vineyard for its scenic peace and beauty, tried to embrace the turkeys as simply another part of life here.  However, it only takes a few, up-close experiences with them to see why everyone was in such a fuss.  Simply speaking, they're quite awful.

Although May means, for the turkeys as well as all other animals, that it is time to procreate, the simple sight of the new mothers with a brood of tiny chicks is no longer a quaint and "aww"-inspiring (pardon my pun) scene for me.  Where formerly I would take photographs and revel in the quintessential springtime scene, all I can now think is, "Oh bother.  Another six heads to add to the already enormous flock."  How much more can this little stretch of hillside take?  And furthermore, how many more birds can the land support?

If you haven't experienced these animals up close, let me paint a picture for you.  You, fortunately, have some property on the island.  Painstakingly, you have landscaped your gardens, manicured the lawns and provided furniture for your deck so that you, your friends and family might enjoy the outdoors and revel in the summer season.  You even go so far as to put up bird feeders for the multitudes of songbirds that call the island home.  You imagine yourself as a careful, conscientious denizen of the island, contributing to its beauty, but being careful not to make the neighborhood birds too dependent upon your feeders as a source of food.  Heck, even the squirrels and chipmunks can stop at your bird feeders for a snack, you try not to discriminate!

It starts innocently enough . . . Sitting upon your deck one day, you see a flurry of brown feathers and hear a sudden crash.  Jumping to your feet, you rush to the source of the noise, only to see a fat turkey scurrying from the scene of the crime.  These enormous, weighty birds, not well-suited to flying, have taken up to roosting in the trees surrounding your house.  Which is normally fine, except when they decide to make a crash-landing so close to the house.  Not only can it jangle the nerves, but 20+ pounds of animal dropping like a rock from the sky has its consequences.  Several of my outdoor tables, including one composed of a slab of granite, have been broken, clear in half, or otherwise mangled by these "emergency" landings.  If you happen to be out of range of hearing when the turkeys land on your deck, they can gobble up the entire supply of seed and suet that you put out for the songbirds long before you get a chance to shoo them away.   So much for my outdoor furniture.  So much for me feeding the birds!

Even one at a time, these birds can be something of a curiousity rather than a pest.  But the fact is, they're not solitary animals.  During the post-breeding season the toms can be spotted by their lonesome, most of the year the females will band together, creating what can become a huge group of animals that move in flocks around the house.  And like people, in a herd mentality, the average IQ goes way down the toilet.  Where before a single bird would not dare to come too close to the house, as soon as they're en masse, a riot begins.  They get nervy, and as a result I've had broken bird feeders, birdbaths, you name it.  Anything that sits outside is now fair game to the turkeys.  I've stopped replacing my feeders, and instead begun to offer it in pie plates, or just scattered on the ground.  My generosity is definitely meeting its end ( new tables, feeders and bird seed itself aren't free or cheap!), but fine . . . even this I will cede.  It is the "great outdoors," and they are wild animals.  Fair enough.  Turkeys: 2, Me: 0

But in my neck of the woods, there are no nearby houses or neighboring dogs willing to chase these birds of terror away.  In this part of Chilmark, its normal to not even see your neighbors for several weeks.  Whether it's because of the thick forest obscuring the already far-flung houses, or simply the absence of seasonal residents, I often feel like I am fighting this battle alone.  The turkeys, for whatever reason, choose to circle my house, grazing in the yard and garden, at 6 a.m.  With the windows now flung open to coax in a mild spring breeze, their already loud calls are an alarm clock that I don't fully appreciate, to put it politely.  Eyes flying open, and nerves finally shot, I go outside with a squirt gun and decide to see them off the property myself.  

Admittedly, I am lucky that the trees provide so much cover, or that my neighbors aren't around to see this, because I'm sure I look like quite a sight: hair sticking up from sleep, pajamas flying, muttering to myself, a la Elmer Fudd, while I stomp towards the now scattering flock, armed with my Super Soaker.  And that's when it happens, the final straw.  Of course I should have had the presence of mind to put on shoes for my early morning "romp" in the yard, but it was early, and we don't own any dogs or other pets . . . so this is what I least expected.

Turkeys, you can wake me up at the crack of dawn, you can break my things, you can fall out of trees and scare the bejeezus out of me . . . but the black, tarry skids of poop is just too much.  Unlike other animals whose defecation can be scooped and dealt with, the "leavings" of these big birds comes out like a dark slushie from hell.  It's sticky and looks like tar, and now covers many different spots in my yard, including some very eyesore areas of my porch and deck.  

So, to all of the more "city-dwelling" folk (although by island standards, that pretty much means, you can hit a neighbors house with a football),  feel free to come get some of this wonderful turkey poop for yourself.  Black, streaky decks are "in" this year. I'm sure it'll be all the rage of outdoor decorating in the future.  Or better yet, you can come and capture one of the dozens of turkeys (yes, I've counted more than 20 heads at a time, they're no longer shy and they're in good numbers) around my house, and transplant them to your neighborhood.  Maybe your neighbors' bird feeders and patio chairs need "readjusting." Heck, maybe your neighbors would appreciate a new "Rupert the Rooster" in your neck of the woods.  If you haven't had the opportunity to be routinely woken up early by a flock of unwelcome visitors underneath your bedroom window, and if you haven't yet had the pleasure of paying for broken bird baths and damaged gas grills, I have plenty of turkeys here to show you the way!

And to anybody else currently having to brave the turkeys, how do you keep these animals at bay?  Any advice is appreciated, and well, if you can't give me any helpful hints, at least we can lament our turkey woes together!