Avoiding a Turk-Tastrophe

Cleanup continues after the terrifying storm. The downed limb has been sawed up and hauled away, and we fear that the damaged tree may have to be taken down before the next high wind breaks the weakened trunk off, crashing onto coops and outbuildings.

Kara’s been furiously cleaning barns, as the rain had pelted in through open doors, soaking the bedding. Wet bedding quickly become fly habitat, which makes a horrible mess and terrorizes the animals with their painful bites.

The young turkeys we hatched in the incubator this spring were safely ensconced in their coop, but the wooden door had been open, facing north, and the rain had driven in there as well. Time for a cleaning of the coop before we faced off with yet another fly festival!

When cleaning a barn, the sheep are herded outside to graze or hang out in a safe paddock, but with turkeys it’s a bit different. These younglings aren’t yet out on the pasture, and turkeys are especially dumb. They have a particular knack for getting themselves into trouble, exploding at the slightest provocation, and hurting themselves. This includes breaking their wings—ouch!

We knew that we needed to clean the coop, but we needed to be smart about it to avoid casualties in the process. Over dinner, we brainstormed how we might handle the situation. The coop is our oldest mobile summer home, built as a wooden coop on a hay wagon base, so it’s up high from the ground. The structure is tippy in the wind, however, so we have it parked behind a shed. Having them just walk outside for a bit wasn’t an option, as getting them successfully down from the coop without a mess of flapping and leaping wouldn’t work. Should we put bedding in the back of the old farm truck, then herd them out the door into the truck as a holding pen? We brainstormed on, weighing the pros and cons of each potential option.

Instead, we decided on a strategy that didn’t involve removing the turkeys from the coop at all. The very back of the coop had stayed dry from the storm, so we waited for nightfall when the turkeys would be sleepy and therefore less skittish. We then hauled in a big sheet of repurposed plastic that we gently used to herd them from the front of the coop to the very back, bending it in a big U-shape and propping the ends against the studs in the wall. Now the turkeys were all packed together in a big hug, with no room to explode in flight or run and jump.

Being snug up against each other can actually be calming to animals (and people, as we like hugs too). Animal handling specialist Temple Grandin has made this a key part of her strategy, and sharing this with the world has helped transform some handling practices to adjust from fear-based methods of moving or treating animals to ones that reduce stress and work with animal psychology. Our plastic hug around the teenaged turkeys (in tandem with keeping the coop dark) helped the birds calm themselves even as we dug and scraped and shoveled and moved around their space.

After some initial squirming and complaints, they laid down and stayed quiet, popping heads up now and then in curiosity.

While cleaning a coop in the dark of night isn’t my favorite, having calm, non-exploding turkeys was worth the effort. As Kara would haul away one load of soiled, soggy bedding, I’d stay behind and hang onto the plastic, just in case the crew became squirmy. After two large loads, we had the offending bedding cleared out, strewn a layer of barn lime to help dry out the plywood floor, and brought in fresh wood shavings.

At last, we carefully unbent the rigid plastic and released the turkeys into the full coop. Even with the low light, I expected the curiosity to get the better of their beady brains, and they’d be all over exploring their new digs. Instead, they stayed right where they were, in their snuggle pile, as if to say, “We’re good, we’ll stay right here!”

Oh turkeys, you really are quite silly.

By morning, however, they were eagerly exploring their world, enjoying the fresh, dry bedding on their feet. No wings were hurt, no explosions of terror, no turk-tastrophe. And we didn’t get hurt either, handling them. I’ve had plenty of scrapes and bruises from moving turkeys! The flies are thwarted, and the turkeys are happy and dry—a win-win.

It was midnight when we wrapped up the project, sore and tired, but the project was a success because we worked with the animals in our care, rather than forcing our agenda upon them. It makes a difference! See you down on the farm sometime.