Original subtitles

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]