Wild Turkeys Worksheet Download

Look at that bird with the fan tail! It is a wild turkey called a tom. He puffs up his feathers and gobbles to show off.

That gobbling tom lives in a flock of turkeys. They eat seeds and nuts and berries and bugs. Wild turkeys can run about 20 to 25 miles per hour!

Even fast runners had trouble when wild turkeys became rare by the early 1900s. People protected them and moved flocks to new places. Today millions of wild turkeys gobble in the woods again!

Did you know that wild turkeys can really fly? They zoom through the air in quick, short bursts. At night, they roost, which means they sleep, high up in trees!

When the sun comes up, they leave those treetops to find food. They eat seeds, nuts, berries, and insects, which are tiny bugs. Their strong legs can run 20 to 25 miles an hour!

Speedy legs could not solve one big problem, though. By the early 1900s, hunting and cut-down forests had made wild turkeys rare. People protected them, and today millions live wild and roost in trees!

Wow, a wild turkey can change the color of its bare head! A male, called a tom, can turn red, white, or blue. The flap over his beak is a snood, and the loose skin under his chin is a wattle.

Color is not a tom's only trick. He puffs up his feathers, fans out his tail, and gobbles loudly to show off. On his chest hangs a beard, but it is really a bunch of stiff, hair-like strands.

Even a tom with a fancy beard needs dinner, so wild turkeys eat seeds, nuts, berries, and insects. They can run about 20 to 25 miles per hour, as fast as a car on a slow street. At night the flock roosts, or rests, high in the trees.

Those trees matter, because by the early 1900s hunting and cleared forests had made wild turkeys rare. People protected them and moved flocks to new places, where poults, the baby turkeys, could grow up. Today millions live in the wild, and toms still flash heads of red, white, and blue.

Imagine you are sitting very still at the edge of the woods at sunrise. Suddenly a loud "gobble-obble-obble!" rings through the trees. Out struts a wild turkey, a big brown bird with a bare head and a hair-like tuft called a beard on its chest. That bird is a tom, which means a male turkey.

That tom is gobbling to show off for the hens, which are female turkeys. He puffs up his feathers and fans out his tail like a big brown umbrella. Did you know his bare head can change color? A flap over his beak, called a snood, and one under his chin, called a wattle, make him look fancy.

All that strutting might make a tom seem slow, but wild turkeys are speedy. They run about 20 to 25 miles per hour and fly fast in short bursts. At night, a flock flies up to roost, which means to rest high in a tree, safe from animals on the ground. By day, they search for seeds, nuts, berries, and insects to eat.

Fast legs and treetop beds could not stop every danger, though. By the early 1900s, hunting and cleared forests had made them rare. Then people protected them and moved flocks to new places, so the birds could grow in number again. Today millions live in the wild, and a gobble at sunrise can ring through the woods once more.

Picture an oak woods in late autumn as the sun slips behind the hills. A flock of wild turkeys scratches through fallen leaves, and then, whoosh! One by one, the big birds flap up and land on branches high above. Yes, turkeys sleep in trees, and that perch is their safe, cozy bedroom.

That high bedroom keeps them away from foxes and coyotes that roam the ground at night. When morning comes, the flock flutters down to hunt for breakfast. They peck at seeds, nuts, berries, and insects. If danger appears, a turkey can sprint about 20 to 25 miles per hour, as fast as a car in a school zone, or burst into the air for a short, speedy flight.

Not every burst of energy is about escaping, though. When a male, called a tom or gobbler, wants to show off, he gobbles, puffs up his feathers, and fans his tail. His bare head can even change color, shifting between red, white, and blue. Look closely and you may spot his snood, the flap over his beak, his wattle under his chin, and a hair-like beard on his chest.

All that strutting takes room, and by the early 1900s wild turkeys were running out of it. Hunting had taken many birds, and forests had been cleared for farms and towns. With fewer birds and less forest, flocks grew rare in many places. Can you imagine woods once full of gobbles falling quiet?

Rare, however, did not mean gone forever. Laws began to protect the birds, and people moved flocks to new places with good woods. There, turkeys raised poults, the name for baby turkeys, and the flocks slowly grew. Today, millions of wild turkeys live in the wild, and at sunset many still do just what the flock in the oak woods did: flap up into the trees for the night.

Picture a quiet forest at dusk, where a huge, heavy bird has been strolling through the fallen leaves, and then, whoosh, it vanishes! Where did it go? Look up, because a wild turkey has just flapped into a tree to roost, which means to settle on a branch for the night. Wild turkeys can fly fast in short bursts, and sleeping high above the ground keeps them away from prowling animals such as coyotes.

Down on the ground, a turkey is hard to catch too, because it can run about 20 to 25 miles per hour, as fast as a car on a neighborhood street. Wild turkeys also stay safer in flocks, where many pairs of eyes watch for danger. All day long, a flock wanders through woods and fields, snacking on seeds, nuts, berries, and insects. Mothers lead their chicks, called poults, along on these walks, and the little ones gobble up tiny insects as they go.

Poults grow up quickly, and the males, called toms or gobblers, become the biggest show-offs in the forest. A tom puffs up his feathers, fans out his tail like a giant brown curtain, and gobbles loudly to get attention. His bare head can shift between colors such as red, white, and blue, and he also sports a snood, the flap of skin over his beak, and a wattle, the loose skin hanging from his throat. Look at his chest and you will spot a "beard," a bundle of hair-like bristles that is really made of special feathers.

With such a loud, flashy bird around, you might think turkeys would be impossible to miss, yet by the early 1900s they had become rare. Hunting took many birds, and as forests were cleared for farms and towns, turkeys lost the tall trees where they roost and the nuts and berries they eat. Can you imagine a woods with no gobbling at all? In many places, that is how quiet the woods became.

Those quiet woods did not stay quiet forever, because people stepped in to help. Laws protected the birds, and wildlife workers moved flocks to new places where turkeys could live again. The plan worked so well that millions of wild turkeys now live in the wild, and they are native only to North America. So if a big bird ever vanishes from the forest floor at dusk, look up, because the bird that once grew rare may just be settling in for the night.

Have you ever heard someone call a turkey slow, silly, or stuck on the ground? Meet the wild turkey, and get ready to change your mind! This bronze-feathered bird of North American woods and fields can sprint at about 20 to 25 miles per hour, about as fast as a car creeping through a school zone. When trouble appears, it can also burst into the air and fly fast, though only for short stretches. Honestly, I think the wild turkey may be the most misjudged bird in the whole countryside.

Those short bursts of flight come in handy at sunset, because wild turkeys do not sleep on the ground. A flock flaps up to roost high in the trees, like a row of dark, feathery ornaments hanging from the branches. Up there, the birds are out of reach of many animals that prowl at night. By day, the flock wanders the woods, scratching through leaves to find seeds, nuts, berries, and insects. Imagine a bird that forages like a squirrel, runs like a car, and sleeps in the treetops!

After a day of foraging, a male turkey, called a tom or gobbler, may be ready to put on a show. He gobbles a loud, rolling call, puffs up his feathers, and spreads his tail into a giant fan. His bare head joins the performance, because its color can change, a bit like a mood ring made of skin. Look closely and you will spot a snood, the flap of skin dangling over his beak, a wattle of loose skin hanging from his throat, and a hair-like "beard" sprouting from his chest. All this strutting helps toms impress hens, the females that later raise chicks called poults.

Sadly, the poults hatching in the early 1900s were growing up in a much emptier world. By then, hunting and the clearing of forests had made wild turkeys rare in many places. Imagine woods that once echoed with gobbles falling quiet! Then people stepped in: rules protected the birds, and wildlife workers moved flocks to new places where turkeys could start again. It worked so well that wildlife experts say millions of wild turkeys live in the wild today.

Millions of turkeys make a happy ending, but this comeback did not happen by luck. It took people who cared enough to protect the birds and the woods and fields they need. That matters because wild turkeys are native only to North America, so these woods and fields are their original wild home. Their story also shows that a problem people cause, people can sometimes help fix. So the next time someone calls a turkey slow or silly, remember the bird that nearly vanished, now sprinting like a car and sleeping in the treetops by the millions.

Imagine a bird that can sprint at school-zone speed, about 20 to 25 miles per hour, on nothing but its own two legs. Now picture that same bird launching into the air and zooming off in a short, fast burst of flight. That is the wild turkey, one of the most surprising birds in the woods and fields of North America. When the sun goes down, it flaps up to a high tree branch to roost, safely out of reach of hungry animals on the ground. By day, wild turkeys travel in flocks, and the woods can ring with their calls, including the famous gobble of the males.

That gobble is only the beginning of how a male, called a tom or gobbler, gets noticed. He puffs up his feathers, spreads his tail into a giant fan, and struts in a show-off performance known as a display. His bare head joins the act, because its skin can change color, flashing from red to white to blue. Look closer and you will spot odd decorations: the snood is a flap of skin dangling over his beak, the wattle hangs below his chin, and a hair-like beard sprouts from his chest. All of this is meant to impress the hens, the female turkeys watching nearby.

Strutting burns energy, so turkeys spend much of their day on the hunt for their next meal. A flock wanders through woods and fields, scratching in fallen leaves for seeds, nuts, berries and insects. Because the menu is so varied, a hungry turkey can usually find something to eat in more than one season. Young turkeys, called poults, peck for insects soon after they hatch. Poults cannot fly up to the treetops right away, so at first they stay close to their mother on the ground until their wings grow strong.

Growing up wild has never been easy, but by the early 1900s the odds had turned far worse for turkeys. Hunting with few limits took a heavy toll, and so did the cutting of forests to make room for farms, towns and lumber. Because turkeys depend on trees for food, shelter and roosts, losing the woods meant losing their homes. Imagine a spring morning when gobbles that once echoed through a valley fell silent. It is a clear case of cause and effect: when people changed the land, the birds' world changed with it.

Silence did not have to last, because people who noticed the missing birds decided to act. New laws limited when and how many turkeys could be hunted, giving flocks a chance to recover. Wildlife workers also trapped wild turkeys and released them in new places with good habitat, a method called relocation. In many areas, trees had already grown back on old farmland, so the newcomers found food and branches for roosting. Each released flock became a starting point, and the work took patience and teamwork among scientists, wildlife agencies and volunteers.

Those starting points kept growing, and today millions of wild turkeys live in the wild. You might spot a flock at the edge of a forest, crossing a country road, or even strolling through a quiet neighborhood. If you do, look for a tom's fanned tail, his dangling snood and his hair-like beard. Wildlife experts still keep watch over flocks, because the comeback depends on healthy woods and fields. So the next time you picture that school-zone sprinter, remember that its comeback is as surprising as its speed: a bird once rare in many places now numbers in the millions.

In January 1784, Benjamin Franklin sat down to write to his daughter, Sarah Bache, and wound up grumbling about the bald eagle. He felt it had poor character, since it sometimes steals fish from other birds instead of catching its own. The turkey, he wrote, was a much more respectable bird, and a true native of America. He was not campaigning for a national symbol, though; he was poking fun at a society's badge whose eagle looked, to him, a bit like a turkey. Was Franklin right to admire the bird? Let's test his opinions against what scientists know, starting with the plain fact that wild turkeys live only in North America.

The first thing to test is the old idea that turkeys are clumsy, and the evidence says otherwise. Wild turkeys fly fast in short bursts, exploding out of the grass when danger appears. At dusk they flap up into tall trees to roost for the night, safely out of reach of foxes and coyotes. On the ground they can run about 20 to 25 miles per hour, roughly the speed of a car in a school zone and far faster than most people can sprint. They also live in flocks, so many pairs of eyes are always watching for trouble. Franklin, it turns out, was admiring a sharper athlete than he may have known.

Franklin also called the turkey a little vain, and on that point the birds give him plenty of evidence. In spring, males called toms or gobblers gobble loudly, puff up their feathers and fan their tails into a giant, rustling circle. Their bare heads can change color, shifting between shades such as red, white and blue, depending on the bird's mood. Each tom also sports a snood, a flap of skin over the beak, a wattle dangling beneath the chin, and a hair-like beard hanging from the chest. Scientists see this display as more than vanity; it is a way for males to compete with one another and to catch the attention of females. So the 'vain' bird is really sending a message, much as a peacock does with its glittering train.

All that strutting burns energy, so a turkey's real daily business is finding enough food. A flock wanders through woods and fields, scratching through fallen leaves for seeds, nuts, berries and insects. That menu shifts with the seasons, because berries ripen in summer and nuts such as acorns drop in fall. Chicks, called poults, can walk and peck soon after hatching, and in their first weeks they depend heavily on insects. Insects are packed with protein, which young birds need to grow quickly. Think of the flock as a roving picnic that never has to pack a basket.

Franklin could not have guessed how fragile those flocks would one day become. By the early 1900s, wild turkeys had grown rare across much of their range. Two pressures worked together: hunting reduced the birds directly, and cleared forests took away the trees they roosted in and the nuts they fed on. Together, the two problems stripped away both the birds' numbers and the habitat they needed to rebuild them. In many places, a woodland that once echoed with gobbling fell quiet.

Quiet woods did not stay quiet, because people decided to act. Laws protected the birds, and wildlife workers moved wild flocks to new places where turkeys had vanished. Those relocated birds settled in, raised poults and spread, showing that when safety and habitat returned, the species could rebound. Today millions live in the wild, and in many places you can spot a flock crossing a field at dawn or dusk. Franklin called the turkey respectable, but a bird that sprints like a car in a school zone, sleeps in treetops and bounced back from rare to millions may deserve an even stronger word.