All language subtitles for My Life as a Turkey 2011 720p BluRay x264-CtrlHD EN Sub_Subtitles01.ENG

Joe: Day after day,
for over a year,

I saw no one,
except my family.

It was a family like
none that you know.

But I am a
mother it seems,

and these are
my children.

And soon enough
like all children,

they'll leave home and I
suppose my heart

will be broken.

But, for now, this is
my life, as a turkey.

Very rarely have people
had the opportunity to

obtain young
wild turkeys,

either in the egg
or as young poults.

I've been trying to get
my hands on wild turkey

eggs or young wild
turkeys for decades.

Then this local farmer
was on his way to my

cabin with a bowl
full of eggs.

It was a delivery that
was to change my life

in ways I could
never have imagined.

My cabin is deep in
the oak hammocks of Florida.

Ever since I was
in college I have

experimented
with imprinting.

Becoming a mother
to young animals.

With wild turkeys I've
always thought that if

I could get some poults
to imprint on me as

their mother, then I
could open a window

into their
secret world.

Imprinting gives the
observer an opportunity

to see into the lives
of creatures that you

would never have an
opportunity to see otherwise.

Some people might think
this is a very strange

thing to do; to me it
was a legitimate area

of scientific inquiry.

But this experiment was
going to leave science

far behind.

For this to succeed,
I had no idea of the

extent which I'd have
to actually become a turkey.

I came home one
afternoon and there was

a stainless steel dog
bowl filled with eggs

on my doorstep.

So I raced out
in the night,

found an incubator
at a friend's house,

brought it back.

I didn't know if the
eggs would be destroyed

by too much heat or if
they would die from not enough.

They had been without
incubation for at least

7 or 8 hours so I was
really concerned.

No one's done
this in a while,

this was going to be
different from anything else.

Each one of these eggs
harbors a mystery;

it's something untamed and
virtually unknown to us,

an embodiment
of wilderness.

And yes, this is the
species from which our

domesticated birds
come from originally.

But people shouldn't
make the mistake that

there's a similarity
between these birds and

the ones we have
tamed for food.

Wild turkeys are so
incredibly different.

Each egg must be properly
turned twice a day.

I am told wild turkeys
make utterances to

their clutch.

So secretly in both
wild turkey and English

I began to talk turkey.

[Making noises]

Almost immediately I
started hearing a response

from the eggs.

I would make a
turkey-like noise and I

would hear distinct
little peeps and

shrills coming
out of these eggs.

But I had this
problem: 25 days after

incubation begins
the mother stops

turning the eggs.

But I had no idea when
incubation started with

these eggs.

So I had to just guess.

But then, sure enough,
cracks began to appear.

This was a
crucial time.

This is the moment
that the poults must

recognize
me as a parent.

Imprinting only occurs
in these first few moments

out of the egg.

And then suddenly the
end of the egg fell

away and this little
poult fell out.

And he's wet and he's
confused and he's

scrambling and it's
obviously a desperate time.

Well, I finally remembered
to make a sound.

And I made my little
turkey sound that I had

been making
to these eggs.

And the little turkey
stopped immediately and

his little
shaking wet head,

rotated and he looked
me square in the eyes.

And there was something
very unambiguous

transpired in
that moment.

And he identified
me as the,

the pair of eyes
belonging to the

correct voice.

And in his way he
stumbled and hopped

across the floor
of the incubator.

And joined me at the
edge of the shelf and

huddled up against my
face and went to sleep.

And something also
moved inside of me,

something very
profound.

I realized that my
involvement in this

experiment was going
to be a very personal,

very emotional, ride
for me and not just a

science experiment.

It had taken a day
and a night and I was

exhausted but I was
finally mother to 16

wild turkeys.

This all happened
very suddenly.

I hadn't really
anticipated it.

I more or less just
disappeared into the forest.

After a very few days I
realized that this was

a complete 100 percent
relentless commitment

that I had made to
these birds and that if

I was going do this, I
was going to have to be

a wild turkey parent
for some unknown

period of time.

I had no idea this
commitment was going to last

weeks or months or as
it turned out years.

I am ignorant about
being a turkey mother.

What do they already
know and what do they

need to learn from me.

They are born
entomologists,

it's already there they
don't have to be taught

which insect
is dangerous,

which one is palatable.

They don't have to be
taught which snake is

harmless and which
one is venomous.

They know exactly.

I can already
tell them apart,

one bird I've started
to call Turkey Boy,

he's into everything.

He's inquisitive
and brave,

and he's going
to be a handful.

He's already beginning
to display to the other

birds and he's
only 5 days old.

Today I actually tried
to show them how to

roost, although I
suspect this is

something they
know already.

It's important to
understand these wild

birds bear no
resemblance to their

domestic cousins it's
the difference between

a pet dog and a wolf.

These birds are so wild,

if I leave them alone
for any length of time

they will just run and
run till they drop dead.

There's this one I've
called Sweet Pea.

She's very little and
likes to be held in the hand.

I did have that feeling
that this rat snake had

literally been waiting
on that moment.

I was gone for a very
short time grabbed a

sandwich,
came back out.

It was a 6 foot rat
snake in the pen that

had completely
swallowed one of the

young poults.

And now could not
get out of the pen,

of course, because of
the large lump in its body.

I was horrified and the
rest of the turkeys

were horrified and it
was a terrible moment

for all of us.

I realized that these
birds absolutely can

not be left alone.

There are so many
predators ready to

strike these young birds.

And I just had to make the
commitment right

there that I'm not
going to leave them alone,

ever.

Up until now, it's been
a full time job just

keeping them alive.

But now my little
experiment is really

beginning to pay off.

It seems as if a whole
world is opening up to me.

It's not just the birds
I am getting close to

somehow they allow me
passage into a secret

side of these
oak hammocks.

The different birds'
personalities are

expressed in the way
they explore the forest.

They even seem to
have their own

individual interests.

Sweet Pea and
Rosita, for example,

have a particular
fascination with squirrels.

Turkey Boy met
a deer today.

I'm amazed at how bold
he is he even walked

and was nose to
nose with it.

They were absolutely
unafraid,

they absolutely knew
this creature was a

benevolent neighbor and not
a potential predator.

And I thought this
was a remarkable

discrimination,
considering that a

coyote is a tawny
brown animal,

with big ears and
an intense stare.

When I'm with
these turkeys,

snakes no longer
run from me.

Corralled by the birds
A rat snake now turns

to face us.

The turkeys know just
how to deal with each

species of snake.

In spite of their
innate knowledge about

dangerous things
they are inherently

disturbed by tortoises
and turtles.

They just won't
leave them alone.

I think maybe they view
them as a snake in a box.

I now know each of
the birds by their

character and
personality as much as

by their appearance.

Turkey Boy is still up
to his old tricks he is

always pushing his
brothers and sisters

around, but no one
seems to mind too much.

Sweet Pea still has this
need for closeness.

She stares motionless at
me for what seems like

a very long time and it's
obviously a conscious

behavior, it's as
though she is trying to

absorb something.

Being the object
of such intense

scrutiny by
such a little thing,

is a very strange
sensation.

I would have to stay with
the birds all day,

every day until sunset.

Then, in the cage the
birds would all fly up to

roost with
me, and on me.

And if I tried to leave
the roost they would

try to follow me so I
had to stay in the pen

until it was
completely dark.

Then they would
fall sound asleep.

But I had to be there
from dawn till after

dark every day,
and there were no

exceptions to that.

[Women Singing]

They have the
basic blueprint,

about all the plants
and all the animals.

It's incredibly
complete.

But what they don't
understand is the lay

of the land and that
was what I knew.

I knew where
the water was.

I knew where the dangers
were to some extent.

We didn't go in the
direction of the road

or to farmer
Rodenberry's house.

I tried to teach them
that automobiles were

a dangerous thing.

That was very
hard to do.

Wild Turkeys are a 20
million year old bird

and they don't have
a blueprint for an

automobile or a pick-up.

Each day as I leave the

confines of my language
and culture and these

creatures seem to become
in every way my superiors.

They are more alert,
sensitive and aware.

They're in many
ways, in fact,

more intelligent.

Their understanding of
the forest is beyond my

ability to comprehend.

Turkeys display a type
of obsession over the

sight of a dead animal
and they would revisit

the site very
cautiously,

and they would
examine very closely,

and occasionally they
would actually pick up

a bone not in
a playful way,

but in a curious
way and drop it.

They would observe this
skeleton very intensely.

And it seemed that
they never tired of

examining, this dead
animal and trying to

understand what the
implication of that was.

That behavior does not
facilitate survival directly.

It's not about
predation, it's not about

food, it's about
understanding the world.

They had a perfect
memory of what that

entire forest was
supposed to look like.

If any object
was out of order,

if a new limb had
fallen out of the tree

they would find that
limb very disturbing.

They would
approach a stump,

of a fallen tree or a
rotted tree and that

was a fascinating thing
as most things are to

wild turkeys.

But interestingly when
we approached a very

old stump, of a tree
that had been sawn down

by loggers something
about that was very

disturbing to
a wild turkey.

I thought it was
a fabulous and

interesting response
but I don't know why.

But here was a stump
that had been cut 10,

15, 20 years before and
yet there was something

not right about that,

and the turkeys
would find it very

interesting and
actually disturbing.

I was always a very
anxious mother hen,

and of course having
not done this before I

never knew the right
time for things.

One night we came in
from our usual

daily walk and I
expected them to enter

the pen like they had so
many times before and

suddenly their
behavior changed.

And they started eyeing
the trees and making sounds.

And suddenly a turkey
flew up into a tree.

And another turkey flew
up and they all began

flying up.

And I realized that
they had made this

decision that it was
time to start roosting

in the trees
like turkeys.

And they were making
contended vocalizations

like turkeys do when
they go on the roost

little communication
noises, here I am,

where are you?

Okay there you are.

I was feeling a little
bit let down and a little

bit like I had
been excluded.

This was one turkey
activity I couldn't

participate in and I
felt like I had been

left out.

And I went out feeling
insecure and I made a

little turkey noise a
little mother hen noise

and suddenly everybody

chattered here we are
everything is ok.

Turkeys in general
have this misplaced

reputation for
stupidity.

This experiment of mine
has proven quite the opposite.

There are many things
that suggest wild

turkeys are
intelligent.

But my experience
with learning their

vocabulary has taught
me how profound this

intelligence actually is.

You have to be this
close to a creature to

understand how
it communicates.

And in fact they have
specific vocalizations

for individual animals.

And I actually learned
these vocalizations,

and when I would hear a
certain vocalization,

I would know without
question they had found

a rattlesnake and
not a grey rat snake.

I have identified over
thirty specific calls

and my vocabulary is
growing every day.

I am learning
to talk turkey.

Interestingly, I
learned that within

each one of those calls
there are inflections

that have very
different meanings.

For example one would
be what is known as a purr.

Many different meanings
depending on the

inflection, from simply
here I am where are you?

To catastrophe
is on the way.

A simple plain yelp,
that would mean you are

out of sight now and
need to come closer.

When turkeys see a hawk
soaring in the distance

and they are not really
disturbed by the hawk's

soaring, but they want
everybody to know it's

there and so they emit
what I called a low nasal

whine and it causes everyone
to be still and very quiet.

I didn't have the
capacity to understand

every vocalization,
but somehow I had the

capacity to understand
their meaning and that

was an almost magical
thing that occurred

with these young birds.

Their language and
their understanding of

the ecology shows
a remarkable intelligence.

But their ability to
understand the world

goes much further than
just communication.

I came to realize that,
these young turkeys in

many ways were more
conscious, than I was.

And I actually felt a
sort of embarrassment

when I was in
their presence.

They were so
in the moment.

And ultimately their
experience of that

manifested into the
kind of joy that I

don't experience.

And I was very
envious of that.

In search of a grasshopper

is a calling as strong as

any I have ever known.

They are almost three
months old and I find

myself a fully fledge
member of a turkey gang.

We raid the field like
ancient marauding barbarians.

Insects can hop or
run away but they are

likely to land at the
feet of another this is

a strategy that must occur
with turkeys everywhere.

This is innate
communication unlike

any I have ever known I
feel a little like an

anthropologist who
after immersing himself

in an exotic tribe is
becoming confused about

his own social identity.

I haven't started
eating grasshoppers yet

but the smooth green
ones are beginning to

look pretty tasty!

Affection is a very
abstract concept anyway

and very hard
to talk about.

And yet I was observing
this everyday,

this need for these
turkeys to be touched

and for closeness.

And so in that sense
wild turkeys are very

affectionate and they
are very tactile.

I saw it most
profoundly in Sweet Pea.

From very early on
Sweet Pea had this

overwhelming desire,
to be close and to be

touching, at all times.

And there was never a
time when I was sitting

on the ground when
Sweet Pea wasn't in my lap.

And if I sat there
Sweet Pea would go to

sleep, and she expected
to be stroked and cuddled.

And it was a
very interesting

relationship, and of
course I fell for it

hook, line and sinker
and just fell head over

heels in love
with Sweet Pea.

Affection is something
you would never

anticipate or expect
from wild turkeys and

yet it was very
apparent that this was

a very important part
of their social life.

Today I lost two birds
to some unknown illness.

And I feel heart-broken.

There is no question
about my connection to

this family.

And there is no
question,

we all feel some
deep sadness.

The effect on the
group is palpable.

Emotions are certainly
not peculiar to the

human experience.

In their observation
of death,

the death of another
turkey that is a member

of their group.

It's a very conscious
behavior as if they are

trying to understand
what the meaning

of this is.

Shelter from the rain
on my porch of my hut

is one of the few perks
these birds have gotten

from having such
an odd parent.

It seems a long
time has past,

since I tended these
birds from the egg.

I've walked these oak
hammocks for over 20

years and I had no idea
how many rattlesnakes

there were here.

I'd see maybe
two in a year.

Now with these turkeys
we were finding 2 or 3

every day!

Today we came across
a 6 foot diamond back.

I used to fear
for them terribly,

but now there is no
question who is in charge.

Sweet Pea and Rosita
were insistent they

wanted to escort this rattle
snake out of the area.

The non-venomous Indigo
snake got an even

closer inspection
from Turkey Boy.

This kind of intense
interaction is born

from a desire to
remain in touch with a

possible predator.

Although sometimes it
does feel like it's

become a bit of
a game for them.

I had never considered
that the wild turkey

was a playful bird, but in
fact they are playful.

They're curious about
things that don't

benefit their
survival directly.

[Music Playing]

The white tailed deer
has fawned late this

year, and as always
Turkey boy is vying for

some reaction.

But this time he has
bitten off more

than he can chew.

The young deer can give
as good as she gets!

Sweet Pea's favorite
is far more amiable.

The Fox squirrel seems
to want to play as much

as she does.

There is no question
in my mind that these

birds experience
joy in their lives.

I was learning new things
about turkeys every day.

But this was not
just about how they

lived their life.

These animals were
showing me how to live

my life also.

We do not have a
privileged access to reality.

So many of us live
either in the past or in

the future and
betray the moment

and in some sense we
forget to live our lives.

And the wild turkeys
were always reminding

me to live my life.

I think as humans we
have this peculiar

predisposition to be
always thinking ahead

and living a little
bit in the future

anticipating the next
minute the next hour

the next day and we
betray the moment.

And wild turkeys
don't do that.

They are convinced that
everything that they

need, all their needs
will be met only in the

present moment
and in this space.

And the world
is not better,

a half a mile
through the woods,

it's not better an hour
from now and its not

better tomorrow.

But this is as
good as it gets.

And so they constantly
reminded me to do that.

And to not live in this
abstraction of the future.

Which by definition
will never exist,

and so we sort of betray
our lives in the moment.

And the wild turkeys
reminded me to be

present, to be here.

For over a year, day
after day we never saw

another human-being.

Which was perfect.

But as the year wore on
I could feel one day

soon I would
walk home alone.

It was late afternoon,
I was sitting in the

thick forest
with Sweet Pea.

We suddenly realized
that there were no

turkeys around us.

And we started looking,
we realized that there

were no turkeys
in the area.

Sweet Pea became
very concerned.

And she actually
started lost calling.

And so we walked maybe
a quarter of a mile,

and finally we saw
turkeys up in the distance.

And I thought this
was really strange.

And I decided okay
we're going to head

back towards home, and
I turned to leave.

No one followed me.

And in fact they
started heading out in

the opposite direction.

In fact there was a
farm in that direction,

that had yard dogs, all
sorts of things that we

did not want
to encounter.

And I could not get the
birds to listen to me,

they would not follow
for the first time ever.

And I became
very disturbed.

And I lost called and
all the vocalizations I

need to employ
they would chatter

acknowledgement, but
they wouldn't follow me.

And by this time I was
just a nervous wreck,

I was exhausted I
didn't know what was

going on and I thought
I've lost these birds

I'm not going to be
able to get them back

and I did not want
this to end like this.

Eventually I tried the
same technique got out

in front, and finally
they start veering off.

And it took hours, to
get the turkeys turned

in the direction
of home.

But I realized that
everything was

different now.

The life that we had
known for the last 6 or

9 months had changed.

And they were from
that point on,

fully wild turkeys that
came and went as they

pleased, they allowed
me to accompany them,

but I was no
longer the parent.

I was just
another bird.

Wild turkeys grow up
fast and I knew my days

with them were
numbered.

But these turkeys had
taught me not to betray

the moment for some
abstraction up ahead.

Once again I am a man in
search of a grasshopper.

It's a calling as
strong as any I have

ever known.

This makes me wonder
sometimes if I have

gotten in a
little too deep.

The peace is being
broken more and more

each day.

It's not just Turkey
Boy, now all the males

practice displaying
getting ready to do battle.

The males will need to
fight their way to the

next stage of
their lives.

Only the toughest
will get to mate.

And as these practice
bouts show when the

real fighting starts
it will be ferocious.

As I looked on, I had
no way of knowing how I

was going to be part of
this rite of passage.

It's over a year
into the project,

and I am starting to see
the birds less and less.

It's natural for the
young jakes to move

away from the group and
the hens too should be

disappearing soon.

But I can't help but
feel a deep sadness.

Day after day they have
been my only company.

Sweet Pea still stays
close by and Turkey Boy

remains the
closest of friends,

but some of the others
are drifting away.

And then something
very special happened,

Sweet Pea started
nesting nearby.

If she hatches her
brood with me here,

it could start a whole
new avenue of research.

A new access to the
reality of the wild turkey.

I had notions of
possibly being able to

do a partial imprinting
thing on her brood

where they would accept
my company without

being disturbed and I
thought that would be a

new and interesting
perspective.

Eventually Sweet Pea
didn't show up one day,

and I thought she's
hatched her babies.

Eventually I thought
well I'll go and

inspect her nest site.

And I went there, and
immediately saw feathers.

And I realized that
Sweet Pea had in fact

been killed on the nest.

And eggs were crushed
and destroyed,

partially eaten.

It was a very
disturbing moment,

heart breaking.

And it made me realize
how deep my involvement

was with these birds.

But when everyone left
Turkey Boy was the one

who eventually
came back.

And once he did he
never wanted to leave.

And so we developed an
incredible companionship.

It was clear I was
no longer this wild

turkey's parent.

We had actually
become brothers.

I've spent a lifetime
studying wild animals

bears, primates, I
don't think I've ever

had a close
communication,

with an animal like I
had with Turkey Boy.

It was truly
phenomenal.

And I recognized this
and I spent every

available minute I
could with him because

I felt like it was such
a rare opportunity.

The depth of our
relationship and the

extraordinary
communication we had.

And yet Turkey Boy had
the ability to convey

to me very
specific meanings,

about what he wanted
to do what he expected

from me, where
he wanted to go,

how he wanted to
spend his day.

The communication
was very complete,

it's pretty remarkable
when a man and a bird

unlike anything I've
ever experienced.

Of course it was
inevitable that all

this was going to end.

Turkey brothers
stay together.

But as a human,
of course,

I had to return
to my own species.

But nothing could have
prepared me for the

ferocity of
what came next.

I happened to look up
and Turkey Boy's face

was right next to my
face and he was just

glowing with these
vivid colors of purple

and red and blue.

And he had a fierce
look in his eyes,

predatory look, and
I thought that was

strange and I reached
out my hand and he

pecked it at the back
of my hand and actually

drew blood.

And I didn't hit him I
just pushed him back,

with my hand on his
breast, get back!

And that was the trigger,

and suddenly understood
what our relationship

should truly
be as brothers.

And he immediately
attacked me.

And he jumped up and he
spurred me in the back,

and gouged me
really hurt me.

And he jumped up at my
face which is really

dangerous they can
blind you with their

big pointed spurs.

I was bleeding

my ear was bleeding, the
back of my hands were

bleeding, and so I
jumped back up and I

grabbed this long-leaf
pine and I swung as

hard as I could.

Hitting Turkey Boy on
the side of the head

which literally
knocked him down.

And he got up, he
turned around and he

ran out of sight, as
fast as he could run.

And that was the last
time I saw Turkey Boy.

For weeks and months, I
would go out into our

old area and I would
go there and I would sit

for hours sometimes.

Fully expecting for
someone to walk in,

a familiar face.

And uh, no
one ever came.

And in fact their
absence seemed to

change the
ecology entirely.

And the rattlesnakes
seemed to disappear.

And I realized that the
turkeys had afforded me

this privileged
experience,

this insight into their
world that had finally

closed its doors to me.

[Music Playing]