Turkeys at Poplar Spring: The Luckier Ones

In the following post, shutterbug Deb Durant introduces us to the turkeys who reside at Poplar Spring Animal Sanctuary, where she volunteers; included are lovely photos she has taken of the birds. Deb is the author of the blog Invisible Voices. I refer to these turkeys as the luckier ones rather than just lucky because they all still suffered before finding sanctuary at Poplar Spring. But they are certainly, absolutely luckier than most other turkeys, including the ones I told you about late yesterday; once you are finished reading Deb's beautiful guest post, please see the previous post about what happens to many other turkeys, if you haven't already, and watch the video there. -SE
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As Thanksgiving approaches, turkeys are being killed by the millions. I could discuss those numbers, and what those numbers mean, but instead I am going to tell you the stories of a few individuals. These are turkeys who slipped through the hands of the people intent on killing them and landed in a safe zone at Poplar Spring Animal Sanctuary, in Poolesville, MD, run by Terry Cummings and Dave Hoerauf.

If you came with me to the sanctuary, walked down the hill from the Civil War–era farmhouse to the weathered old chicken barn, and stepped inside, you'd be greeted by Victor. He would be displaying, proud bird that he is, and he would follow you with his distinctive turkey strut — step, step, pause, *poof* of air, step step, pause, *poof* of air. You'd likely be charmed and perhaps a little intimidated at first.

Turkeys are big birds, and the domesticated turkeys are abnormally large, genetically manipulated to become that abnormally large size. It is usually their primary health concern as they age.

Victor was found walking down a sidewalk in Germantown, MD, about three years ago on Thanksgiving Day. Who raised him is not clear, but their purpose is. He would have been killed if he hadn't escaped. Instead he lives, happy to be admired, posing for the female turkeys and the camera.

You'd probably notice Opal next. She is the only white turkey, and she's most likely to be found sitting in a spot of sun. When she moves, it is with a slow and awkward stateliness. She was found running across a four-lane highway in Virginia, having escaped from a slaughterhouse. She was noticed by two kind women, who were able to convince the slaughterhouse workers to let them take her. Thus Opal came to the sanctuary. She's the only one who came from the type of business known as a "factory farm." She bears the scars — the crudely shortened beak and the amputated toes. This is the cause of her slow and awkward walk; she is missing those long, articulated tools of balance, after all. Opal likely suffered the worst abuses of all the rescued turkeys, yet she retains a sweetness that brings peace to those of us who are lucky enough to spend time with her. She gives the impression of the wise woman, knowing and serene.

The three turkeys who always seem to be together, quietly in the background of Victor's limelight, are Gobbles, Elliot, and Gertrude. They came to live at the sanctuary after they were found living in a cage behind a DC Cuban restaurant the week before Thanksgiving a few years ago. Victor is the one all the turkeys gravitate toward, but Elliot, Gobbles, and Gertrude tend to stick together in their orbit around Victor; their bond of shared experiences continues. They are watchful and aware, content to let Victor be the main attraction, yet if they notice that you are paying them special attention, they preen and pose.

The striking silver turkey who would be hovering near Victor is Ariel. She is the youngest, the newest arrival, found walking down a busy road shortly before Thanksgiving last year. Her preference for Victor couldn't be clearer; the reason she walks back and forth in front of Victor, often sitting down in his path, is simply to get his attention.

Last weekend we had the wild weather that comes with the collision of a warm front and cold front. It would rain fiercely for a few minutes, followed by dry but strong winds. The sun would come out for a few minutes, only for the cycle to repeat itself a few minutes later. The wind was strong enough that most of the chickens and the turkeys headed inside the chicken barn. When we were finishing the morning chores, the sun made one of its sudden reappearances. As it lit up a door-wide swath of the chicken barn, my eye was caught by the turkeys lined up in that light. Then their progression outside began. Their mission was clear — if there was sun to enjoy, enjoy it they would.

Settling on the grass, their contentment and their enjoyment of life were obvious.

These turkeys are all turkeys. The only difference between them and the millions being killed right now is that these lucky six have found sanctuary. They are safe. They are loved and appreciated simply for the beauty of their existence, weird-looking snoods and wattles included.