When Turkeys Fly: An Ecotherapy Perspective
The first time I saw a turkey fly was several years ago on a hike with my husband exploring a forested natural trail at Grant Woods Lake County Forest Preserve, traditional homelands of the Ojibwe, Odawa and Potawatomi nations. We were enjoying the brief transplant into a bit of local wilderness and came around a corner to make acquaintance with a VERY startled turkey. The next 30 seconds was a blur – the turkey (and us, for that matter) making some undecipherable squawks at such a surprise encounter, all of us no doubt experiencing a cortisol rocket of fight-or-flight, and I’ll leave out the particulars of where one of us jumped into the brush in an every-turkey-encounterer-for-themselves survival moment that left the other face to face with a level 10 gobbler.
It’s the sound I remember most – a deep woosh woosh WOOSH of its squiggly striped feathered, massive wings as it took off running down the trail behind us and suddenly took flight across a forest floor clearing, presumably landing somewhere beyond our view. It was a THRILL to say the least, and that was how we learned firsthand that turkeys could fly.
Fast forward to a more recent solo forest immersion where I witnessed a nightly flight crew of seven who took my breath away. About 10 minutes before sunset each evening, they would emerge from a pocket of the woods to seemingly meander – before intentionally selecting their lift-off moment, which began with a 20ish-yard, all-out sprint and then that familiar WOOSH WOOSH WOOSH.
At one moment, two appeared to line up at an invisible starting line, taking a synchronized pre-sprint and lift-off together, albeit selecting different tree limb destinations to tuck themselves in for the night. Landings seemed deliberate at best, with the sound of a mega-bird slamming into a branch as the majority, in lieu of any sort of delicate set-down. What a privilege to witness! And I knew I just had to share.
And also, how is it possible that the magnificent flight of this familiar big bird, which November has largely come to revolve around, is so little known? Perhaps not so surprising I suppose, as this unknowingness of our non-human neighbors happens every day amidst our always-on, chaotic lives. And also, where we can intentionally find a breath to look or listen, there’s so much wonder and awe and camaraderie just a mindful moment away. We need only reach for it to experience its oasis of here and now, and the healing benefits of mindfulness and ecotherapy take it from there.
It can be as simple as observing a pair of sparrows seemingly playing tag in your backyard; noticing a vibrantly colored leaf on the sidewalk at the bus stop; finding a dolphin-shaped cloud out your high-rise window; watching turkeys barreling toward a branch at full speed just before sunset…it’s also a walk in the woods, outdoor group therapy, a botanic garden visit, animal-assisted therapy, nature mindfulness experiences, walk-and-talk therapy, and so much more. Simply put, ecotherapy is “…an umbrella term for nature-based methods of physical and psychological healing…that acknowledges the vital role of nature and addresses the human-nature relationship” (Buzzell & Chalquist, 2009, p.18).
One of the most consistent points of feedback I hear in offering guided ecotherapy experiences surrounds the awakening that often comes from spending more mindful time outdoors, including how much harder it becomes to unintentionally ignore our animal neighbors. And over time, it can also inspire a sea-change shift in our way of thinking – reconnecting to the idea that nature is not so much somewhere out there as it is all around us, and within us too. As Jane Goodall wisely put it, “We are all interconnected – people, animals, our environment. When nature suffers, we suffer. And when nature flourishes, we all flourish.”
So when we reach for ecotherapy, we can bring a reciprocity mindset along too – because to conserve and care for the forest is to show appreciation for the ways it cares for us. And to care for Mother Earth is to care for all her creatures – including our turkey neighbors and all the joy and curiosity and gratitude we can carry in our hearts from the gift of simply witnessing their daily commute.
