In 2019, the wild turkey that had been cruising the streets of West Seattle showed up in my neighborhood. I was very excited. It appeared that she had taken me up on my invitation to come for a visit.

I named her Admiral Belvidere in honor of the intersection of neighborhoods where I live (Admiral and Belvidere), but also in honor of her independence. Originally thought to be wild, it turned out that she was a domestic turkey that had either escaped from, or—more likely, since no one ever stepped forward to claim her—had been turned loose by a human whose care she had been in. Since that time, the West Seattle turkey had begun charting her own course, opting to roam freely rather than staying in any one place for long.

Admiral Belvidere did our neighborhood the honor of visiting for a while, turning up at my house for breakfast on more than one occasion. She had a favorite tall evergreen around the corner from me that she roosted in each night. The neighbors and I would gather at sunset to watch her hop/fly her way from rooftop to rooftop before a mighty launch into the air to fly her way up to a spot high in the tree where she would be safe from night predators like coyotes. I imagine the raccoons could have climbed up to her, but given her battle abilities against the few cats brave enough to approach, I doubt they would have been happy with their reception.

Almost daily, I served Admiral Belvidere her favorite sunflower seeds, and she spent the rest of her time foraging in the yards of neighbors in a several-block radius. It was summertime, and everything was either blooming or fruiting, so life was easy.

I offered the Admiral a permanent space in my yard, with food year-round and a shelter if she wanted one, but I sensed a restlessness in her that pushed her to keep moving on. I heard stories from neighbors with chickens that she would come and hang out with the flock, but never for long. I suspected she was lonely for a mate and others of her kind. That suspicion was confirmed one day during a seemingly random encounter with a neighbor who lived two blocks over.

My neighbor discovered Admiral Belvidere foraging amongst her heavily laden blueberry bushes, and was not open to sharing. An attempt to shoo the Admiral away was ignored. My neighbor was nervous about provoking an attack, so opted to try something else. She proudly shared the solution—she went online and found a recording of wild turkeys gobbling, then went outside her yard and around the corner to play it. She switched the turkey calls off once she saw Admiral Belvidere rush out of the yard, vocally replying to what she thought was a flock she could call her own. A flock that seemed to have vanished into thin air. I think my neighbor thought I would commend her for her ingenious, non-harmful approach, but what she saw instead was the sadness I felt for the lonely turkey who continued to search the neighborhood calling out for friends that appeared to want to have nothing to do with her.

I tried to explain, but my neighbor was not an animal person at heart and simply could not comprehend that a turkey might experience the same emotions that people do. She was proud of the fact that she had easily removed the turkey from her yard, closed the gate, and now her blueberries were safe. That was all that mattered to her.

Admiral Belvidere graced us with her presence for a bit longer and then moved on. There were no more sightings posted on the West Seattle blog, and it is believed that she passed out of our area, perhaps headed south, still sailing her chosen course. I hope she finally found her safe harbor with family to call her own.

I often wonder how Admiral Belvidere’s adventures turned out. This memory came to me this morning while I was preparing food for my cat crew, and the birds, squirrels, and crows at the Wild Rose Café. My time with her was short, but the memories of our encounters, and my admiration for her survival skills and strength of purpose remain. I feel blessed to have known her.

Photo: Wild Turkey Admiral Belvidere Spring Visit is available as a print, greeting card, and other gifts.

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A WILD WAY TO HEAL
Rose De Dan, Wild Reiki and Shamanic Healing LLC is an animal communicator, Reiki Master Teacher, shamanic energy healer, and author of Tails of a Healer: Animals, Reiki and Shamanism and Out of the Darkness and Other Animal Tails. Her classes, sessions, and ceremonial work are inspired by wild and domestic animals who have issued a call to action for personal and global healing.