Did you see the wild turkey that descended upon the Yale campus last week? I, regrettably, did not. While putting the finishing touches on my senior essay, I had a difficult time recognizing fellow human beings, let alone out-of-place birds.
Yet, due to this rare bird, Yale managed to celebrate an unconventional version of Turkey Day (actually, Turkey Week), six months before the traditional holiday. Thoughout the turkey's visit, it was hard to determine which looked more bizarre-the passersby who stopped to gawk at the bird or the plump specimen itself.
For those of you who were as ignorant of the avian visitor during its brief stay as I was, the story is as follows: a female wild turkey (Meleagris gallopavo) flew into a parking lot behind Timothy Dwight College on Good Friday, Apr. 5. It spent the first half of the following work week inside the gates of TD. Most of this time was spent cowering in a corner of the upper courtyard. The bird claimed its most public roost from Wednesday through Saturday between Naples and Silliman on Wall Street. It maintained an appreciable level of agitation in alternating between its perch high up in a tree and its frantic pacing back and forth in the Silliman moat. No one has seen it since last Saturday.
In olden days, such an appearance would have had a heavy symbolic impact. I believe the terminology for such an occurrence is a "bird-sign." If it was an albatross circling above Naples, we would know what to expect. But when a wild turkey comes to town, we are at a loss for explanation. Is there any symbolism to be teased out of this brief interloper? Was the Yale Wild Turkey of '96 a "bird-sign" in any way?
These questions resonate further upon realizing that, one week earlier, in the very same tree on Wall Street, on the same branch even, there sat a large bird of prey. Some thought this beast was an eagle, an interpretation which would have juxtaposed the national-bird-that-is with the bird-that-would-have-been (if Ben Franklin had his way, at least). The imposing creature actually was a red-tailed hawk, which went on to maul a squirrel on Old Campus. The Class of '99 may not want to interpret the "bird-sign" meaning of that last maneuver.
Keeping things in perspective, though, the hawk which roosted before the wild turkey played in only a supporting role. Last week belonged to the turkey.
Searching for deeper meaning in the wild turkey requires us to understand what allowed it to stumble into downtown New Haven in the first place. The wild turkey was extinct in the state of Connecticut as early as 1813 due to spreading farmland and unregulated hunting. Connecticut began repopulating efforts in 1975 by introducing 22 birds into the northwest corner of the state. Thanks to continuing conservation efforts, Connecticut's wild turkeys now number almost 20,000.
So even though this bird seemed to come out of nowhere to grace our fine city, its very existence, whether peaceably out in the woodlands or amidst considerable hubbub in New Haven, is a direct result of decades-long restoration efforts. We thus arrive at one possible "sign" conveyed by this bird: a symbol of the success of wildlife restoration efforts, coming to the city to put a hex on all those pundits who are hard at work trying to dismantle the Endangered Species Act. Perhaps they will soon descend in lobbying flocks upon the Beltway.
But surely this is faulty "bird-sign" analysis. Usually, avian symbols do not meddle in petty politics. I find it more interesting to focus on the human response to this fish out of water.
Beyond wondering whether anyone had the sense to call the SPCA while staring drop-jawed at the confused bird, I am struck by how urban folk are so taken with, and frozen by, wildlife. We respond in the same way to a rare species sighting in the city as we do to a year-old toddler in a residential college courtyard. Sealed off in a world of college students, professors, books, and extracurriculars, we stop dead in our tracks, dumbstruck. It is a brief interlude of wonder and awe as we stand before other forms of life.
It is along this vein that I prefer to interpret the wild turkey: as a reminder of the importance of wonder in our lives. We run a fast-paced four years here at Yale-gaining knowledge, building friendships, and filling our schedules. Sometimes it is all so exciting and stimulating that we forget to step back and say, "Wow."
I think the turkey came last week to give us a chance to say "Wow."
Copyright 1996, The Yale Herald, Inc. All rights reserved.
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