Turkeys hanging around the church is not an uncommon sight. Especially with Thanksgiving around the corner, they find St. John the Baptist to be a safe space. I've actually enjoyed watching them throughout the summer.
These are wild turkeys, though I don't doubt that they were planted in this area within the last 20 years. All these guys have beards, the tough of hair like feathers sticking out of their chest. That is a male trait, though random females can sport them as well. My guess is that these are all young males.
A group of turkeys is most formally called a rafter. But you can get by calling them a flock, gang, gaggle, end even a posse. This rafter of birds has been wandering around the church grounds all summer. Here the toms, male birds, strut around. Probably just fronting each other, but maybe trying to impress then hens, female birds.
Turkey track brands are fairly common throughout the cowboy state. Not having any enclosed corners, like a B or 8, it probably goes on a cow real nice.
The only drawback to having turkeys in the neighborhood is their scat. It isn't a pleasant mess to come across. However, it is rather few and far between. Geese are dirty birds, their feces is everywhere they are. Turkeys, on the other hand, don't drop everywhere they walk. That being said, you definitely want to check your boots before entering the church.
Fun stuff. My first encounter with church turkeys was on an Easter Vigil in Moorcroft. Just as we were leaving the church to start the Liturgy at the outdoor fire, a turkey walked in and went downstairs. I said, Leave it. We'll shoot it later. But an old rancher went down and herded him back outside. That pretty well broke the ice for a beautiful Catholic night in Wyoming. Beside their sporadic droppings and a few rocks being kicked out of the flower bed from their scratching around, I enjoy our little posse of turkeys. Thanks Lord.
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