Turkey Marches

[this is an excerpt from "turkey always and all ways," published by Strongbow Inn]
 

Before the days of railroads, super highways and refrigeration, turkey marches were common in this country. A drover, accompanied by boys with herding sticks and a wagon of shelled corn hauled by a mule, would lead an army of thousands of birds on the great marches from farm to market. The marching birds often travelled as far as 25 miles a day. When grasshoppers were plentiful, the birds fed upon them; when they weren't the boys threw them shelled corn so they fattened as they walked. Herds crossed mountains, forded rivers, weathered deserts. Occasionally the birds would panic and hundreds of them would cluster on the roof of a school or covered bridge, sometimes collapsing it. Once in Arkansas, a famous wager took place between a duck farmer and a turkey farmer to see whose birds reached market first. The turkeys, capable of moving fast as ponies, were odds-on favorites, but the ducks persistently waddled through the night. At sundown, the temperamental turkeys called it quits, flew into a grove of high trees and remained there till morning. Needless to say the waddlers beat the gobblers. Records show that one drover spent a year driving his turkeys from New Mexico to California; another, 23 1/2 days to make the 209 mile trip from Vermont to Boston. (Incidentally, proceeds from a successful turkey march frequently raised sufficient cash to allow a farmer to turn rancher and purchase his first herd of cattle.)

Strongbow's has had its own turkey marches. Formerly they drove up to 2500 birds across Highway 30, an all day affair which required the services of local police and incurred the wrath of local motorists. The birds balked, stampeded or took to the air. Eventually, like the New England and far western turkey marches, those of Valparaiso came to an end.

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turkey always and all ways