J.R. Johnson

We had an unexpected visitor in the backyard yesterday:

Pretty sure the bird bath and feeder perches are too small for you, buddy.

This prime specimen or turkeydom appears to have been separated from his flock and decided to explore our little slice of suburbia. We had a big windstorm which might have thrown him off course, or he may be a young male looking to strike out on his own and isn’t going to let little things like cars and fences and stray cats deter him.

A casual glance out the back window turned into a “Holy cow, giant turkey in the back!”

I’m used to seeing turkeys in fields or trees, not up close.

He’s big in body, wingspan, and claw. His feathers are a beautiful metallic bronze with variegated stripes that blend in with the pine trees. His tracks are all over the snow-covered deck and they are almost the size of my hand. 

I’ve taken to calling him Big Thom. (With an olde thyme H because he looks pretty Jurassic if I’m honest.)

He was still here when we got up this morning, roosting in a white pine. Our cat has given up trying to out-stare the new visitor and is pretending to ignore him.

Not me! It’s impossible (for me at least) to see a bird like this up close and not think about their evolutionary connection to dinosaurs. Fortunately, it’s been a long time since they were in a position to eat large mammals like ourselves.

At least that’s what I’m telling myself, as I head off to have lunch with my new neighbor, Big Thom. 

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