Before I moved the studio from San Francisco to rural northern Mendocino County, the only wild turkey I saw was in a shot glass. The first time I saw a wild turkey up here was at sunset. It was trying to roost in a madrone tree. What an effort. It looked like a full laundry bag trying to launch.
However wild turkeys don't necessarily spend the night in trees. At her mountain top home, my friend Suzanne Grande feeds the turkeys. She feeds them twice a day. If she's late, they show up at her front gate and call to her. During the day, they come; they go. At dusk they arrive back for the night. They surround the house and bed down. The Grande's dogs used to bark and chase, but no longer. Dogs and turkeys have gotten used to each other. Nobody's scared. When husband Gregg arrives from work, the turkeys make way for his car. Then they settle right back down. Suzanne says they keep the snakes away.
