A gray sky hung over Liberty Park in Twinsburg on a recent morning. The early hour and chilly air conspired to keep most hikers away for the moment.
Surely that would work to his advantage as Joe Malmisur set out in search of some of the park’s year-round residents: the wild turkey.
There are a few dozen here, the Summit Metro Parks naturalist explained as he started down the 1.1-mile Ledges Trail. They’ve been spotted in every metro park, but here in particular he has seen them from the boardwalk. They huddle in groups to watch out for the coyotes that think they look delicious.
Still, at 3,000 acres, Liberty Park is a whopping big patch of forest, fields and wetlands. Even a 4-foot tall, 24-pound colorful animal — the largest game bird on the entire continent — can disappear here if it wants.
As Malmisur began his trek, a squirrel with a mouthful of dead leaves scurried up a tree, hauling insulation to his winter’s nest. It was the only other sign of life. The park was eerily still, and quiet and featherless.
That’s the way it was a century ago. Wild turkeys were erased from Ohio in 1904. Unregulated hunting and loss of habitat due to farming and development reduced their number to absolute zero.
In 1954, the Ohio Division of Wildlife invited them back. The state first tried by rearing 1,400 farm-raised game turkeys and releasing them in southeast Ohio, where large tracks of forest land had been restored.
Those gobblers didn’t have the right stuff.
Hardy cousins
So in 1956, the state trapped and hauled in the hardy cousins that grew up in the wilds of West Virginia, Kentucky, Texas, Alabama, Arkansas, Missouri and Florida. They thrived.
Ten years later, they were so well-established in nine counties, hunting season was declared.
Today, there are an estimated 180,000 wild turkeys in Ohio. They’ve been spotted in all 88 counties. In most counties, the state allows hunters to bag two turkeys in the spring and one in the fall. The current season is open until Nov. 27. Not on park land, of course.
Malmisur produced a map showing their abundance throughout the state. The half of the state not flattened by glaciers is shaded black for “high” populations. Urbanized Summit County is shaded the same as the “low” density counties to the west.
But the birds are here. Somewhere. Malmisur pointed to grape vines hanging from branches. The turkeys love this area when the ripened fruit begins to fall, he said. But it’s mid-November. The vines are as barren as the trees.
Malmisur continued down the trail, scanning the landscape.
“Turkeys have incredible eyesight and hearing,” he said. “Out in the wild, they will pick you up a couple of miles away. It’s amazing.”
But don’t bother to try and call them, he said. They don’t react to calls the way some game birds do.
Sleep in trees
If it were night, Malmisur would also be scanning the trees. Wild turkeys sleep in trees.
That’s because they fly.
Know what doesn’t fly? The bird destined for your Thanksgiving table.
The farm-raised birds that will be the center of family feasts started as wild creatures centuries ago but were engineered to be a better dinner. They were genetically altered to grow large breasts of succulent white meat, becoming twice the size of the birds found in the wild, Malmisur explained. That extra bulk keeps them firmly on the ground.
Wild turkeys are predominately dark meat with small breasts. And they taste gamey. Malmisur said he knows this because his son-in-law provides one for the Thanksgiving table every year.
It’s a good thing his son-in-law hunts in the state’s northeast corner, where wild turkeys are plentiful. Here in Summit County, it takes more work to spot one.
Malmisur left the Ledges Trail to look over some leaves that appeared disturbed.
Turkeys will use their wings to plow away snow or leaves so they can root around for acorns, seeds, insects, even small frogs or snakes.
It looks like this, Malmisur said of the barren spot, but this wasn’t done by a turkey. The clearing doesn’t show the strong claw marks that turkeys would have left behind as they dug for their dinner.
“Their feet are exceptionally powerful and you’ll see huge areas in the woods that are just scraped away,” he said.
The search continued. Past the mossy green ledges that the trail is named for. Over toppled boulders that serve as steps. Beyond trees that are so bonded with the rocks they are growing on, it’s nearly impossible to tell where the mineral ends and the root begins.
A mother and young son on an early morning hike crossed paths with Malmisur. The naturalist asked if there was any sign of turkeys ahead.
“Haven’t seen any here,” the mom said. “Have them in my backyard, though!”
In backyards
Malmisur has them in his own Trumbull County backyard, too. He once counted 57 turkeys at one time. He pulled out his cellphone and showed a picture of a nest on his property — several large off-white eggs in a bowl made of leaves and twigs.
Wild turkeys breed in early spring, with an average clutch of a dozen eggs. When babies hatch, they are ready for business. They are born with feathers and start walking within hours. Within a day, they are running and pecking at insects. Within two weeks, they are flying.
Nearly an hour after beginning his search, Malmisur came to the end of the trail. A red-headed woodpecker clung to a swinging bird feeder. The Liberty Park Visitors Center loomed ahead.
There are a couple of taxidermy turkeys inside, he said. He is resigned to the fact that today, that’s as close as he will get.
Then Malmisur acknowledged that after mentioning turkeys can hear up to 2 miles away, maybe he shouldn’t have commented about what’s going to be on his dinner table Thursday.
Paula Schleis can be reached at 330-996-3741 or pschleis@thebeaconjournal.com. Follow her on Twitter at http://twitter.com/paulaschleis.