Turkey poults

I checked on the robins last Friday. Both of the chicks took off out of the nest when I got too close. I felt bad for disturbing them and wondered if they could fly well enough to get back to the nest. After I took a picture of the one that landed on the patio, it took off and flew just fine all the way to the orchard. To my knowledge, they have not returned to the nest.

Robin fledgling from the nest under the deck

Faithful readers may remember that meat chickens cannot have feed at night. They have been bred to eat, and if they have food available 24/7, they gain weight faster than their legs can support them. This leads to lameness. They do get hungry by morning, however. Here’s a video of the feeding frenzy after I put the food in Saturday morning. They don't all catch on right away, but it doesn't take long for word to get around.

Last Tuesday, Mom and Dad were having breakfast out and saw an advertisement on the restaurant bulletin board for turkey chicks. We had talked about doing turkeys last year but held back for a couple of reasons. One, I read about blackhead disease, which kills turkeys but does not affect chickens. I was unable to find out what the risk of chickens carrying blackhead disease was in our area. Second, to order turkeys to be shipped, we had to get 15. Otherwise they get too cold in the box. What would be do with 15 turkeys?

Hilda called the number on the flyer and talked to Dale. Once he found out we wanted to raise the turkeys with meat chickens, he said that would be fine.

“We’d like two,” Hilda said.

“If one dies, the other will go crazy,” Dale said. Not sure if this was true or if Dale was a good salesman.

“Three, then,” Hilda replied.

We needed to get some 28% protein feed. We were giving the chicks 20%, which was as high as it comes at Tractor Supply. 

“Where do we get 28% feed?” Hilda asked.

“From me,” Dale replied.

We went to Darien on Saturday to pick up the poults (the proper name for baby turkeys). Dale’s farm was disorderly in a pleasant, lived-in sort of way. We admired a small brick building outside the house. Dale told us it was a smokehouse from 1845. The family of the original owners had a story written by an ancestor about Native Americans stealing meat from it back in the day.

We picked out our poults from an incubator illuminated and heated by three incandescent bulbs. The poults were six days old and about the same size as our five-day-old chicks.  I hoped that would prevent fights. Dale provided a Honey Nut Cheerios box to transport them home.

Poults-in-the-box

We pulled over to the barn to get a giant bag of 28% protein crumbles (small bits as opposed to the larger “pellets”). Hilda waited in the car with poults on her lap. Dale explained that the feed was self service. Cash went in an envelope, and the checks could go directly into the slot on the side of the box.

“Be sure to write down what you’ve taken on the check or on the envelope. Sometimes people write down one thing and take something else. I have to call them to tell them they got the wrong feed.”

We came right home and put the poults with the chicks. Everyone seemed to get along just fine.

Meet and greet--two turkeys, left with dark heads and long necks, introduce themselves to the meat chicks huddled in the corner at the right.

In the first six days, all has gone well. No one has died or gotten pecked. So far, so good. 

Didn't take the turkeys long to find the food.