I wish the bald eagle had not been chosen as the representative of our country; he is a bird of bad moral character; like those among men who live by sharking and robbing, he is generally poor, and often very lousy. The turkey is much more respectable.

Benjamin Franklin

Consider the humble turkey, the most delicious and least appreciated creature that ever graced a platter.

Each Thanksgiving, thanks-giving Americans roast, deep-fry, smoke and scarf a whopping 45 million gobblers weighing in at a staggering 525 million pounds of succulent pass-the-gravy. Statistics detailing what percentage of that great mountain of poultry disappears on the last Thursday in November, as opposed to how much of it assumes a second career in turkey sandwiches, turkey casseroles, turkey enchiladas and open-faced turkey surprise with micro-waved cranberry chow-chow, are unavailable. But if the noble turkey plays a starring role in countless holiday suppers, for the rest of the year it’s mostly an un-credited extra – the mystery meat in your heart-smart hotdog, or the oversized, novelty hand-food at the local fair. That’s a sorry lot for North America’s largest indigenous fowl, the one Ben Franklin his esteemed self dubbed the “Bird of Courage” and young Tad Lincoln kept as a pet in the White House.

Fact is, turkeys have been strutting around the New World for the last 10 million years, at least, and were long a mainstay of Native American diets from Pasadena to Pensacola. Recognizing a tasty and tractable entrée when they saw it, early Spanish explorers shipped specimens back home, and domesticated varieties soon graced tables across Europe. In one of those delectable ironies in which history abounds, later colonial immigrants, ignorant of the turkey’s origins and hoping to ensure a steady supply of groceries in the wilderness, hauled flocks of tame gobblers back across the Great Water, only to be met by a feathered welcome wagon numbering in the tens of millions. And it is that original turkey, the alpha bird, Adam to a race of self-timing Butterballs, to which we pay homage today.

Once teeming across forest, prairie and desert, by the early 1900s the wild turkey had been hunted nearly to extinction, falling to perhaps less than 30,000 specimens. In 1937, Congress passed the Federal Aid in Wildlife Restoration Act, assessing taxes on firearms, ammunition and other hunting equipment, which funds were instrumental in bringing Franklin’s virtuous bird back from the brink. Government efforts were amply supplemented by civilian conservation organizations, most notably the National Wild Turkey Federation (NWTF). Founded in Virginia about 40 years ago, the nation’s premier club dedicated to the protection and proliferation of the wild turkey now boasts a half-million members from sea to shining sea.

These days, wild turkeys number nearly 8 million covering every one of the contiguous 48 states, plus smaller portions of Canada and Mexico. Of those, more than 5 million are of the prolific Eastern variety, which can be found scratching and pecking from the Atlantic to the mighty Mississippi and from the Great Lakes to the Gulf. Rugged conditions in the American West, however, call for a smarter, scrappier, more independent-minded bird. In these parts, the regal Merriam’s is the turkey to watch.

Something like 25,000 free-range turkeys now list a Colorado address, most of them Merriam’s, although a community of transplanted Rio Grandes call the South Platte home and a few Gould’s have somehow mistaken Pueblo for the northern mountains of Mexico. In these parts, several thriving clans of Merriam’s make the Foothills a happy hunting ground for folks seeking a more authentic Thanksgiving experience. There’s a reason it’s called “Turkey Creek”, after all.

Wild turkeys are represented locally by two NWTF subsidiary flocks. The Mount Evans Merriam’s chapter numbers more than 250 avid members operating in western Jefferson County and parts of Clear Creek and Park counties. Lower down, the 400-strong Front Range chapter can boast more than 400 members and the distinction of being the oldest NWTF off-shoot west of the Mississippi. The Front Range group’s brief encompasses a broad swath running along both sides of the Hogback from Longmont to Castle Rock.

Like many wildlife organizations, the National Wild Turkey Federation contains a heavy concentration of hunters. And like many organizations comprised largely of hunters, the majority of the NWTF’s activities have nothing at all to do with hunting.

“We’re first and foremost about conservation,” explains a source deep inside the Mount Evans Merriam’s. “Most of what we do is create and restore turkey habitat. And what’s good for the turkeys is good for every other animal in the forest, so by maintaining good turkey habitat, the whole forest is healthier.”

But if the hills are alive with wild turkeys, how come you rarely see them? Chances are, it’s because they saw you first. Meleagris gallopavo merriami’s eyesight is about 10 times keener than your own, and it doesn’t invite familiarity. Indeed, far from the slow-witted creature of popular imagination, the wild turkey is a canny customer. Able to fly short distances at speeds up to 55mph, a typical Merriam’s spends its days feeding among thick, concealing brush, then retires for the night in the branches of a handy cottonwood or ponderosa pine, safely out of harm’s way. And except for their signature “drumming” during the spring mating season, wild turkeys aren’t given to calling attention to themselves.

For you, however, sitting there in front of a steaming plate of butter-soaked stuffing and marshmallow-slathered yams, the operative question is “are wild turkeys good to eat?” The answer is “yum.”

Although among the smaller breeds of wild turkey, the adult Merriam’s averages a respectable 15 to 20 pounds – easily competitive with your grocery-store Tom. And, like the ubiquitous Broad-breasted White, the wild gobbler responds favorably to all manner of preparation techniques.

“I usually take the breast, wrap a pound of bacon around each half, and smoke it,” divulges our Merriam’s informant. “It’s delicious.”

And so, with loved ones gathered close and the year’s best feed arrayed before you, perhaps you’ll give a thought to the long and distinguished pedigree represented in your nicely browned culinary centerpiece, and reflect on your meal’s wild cousins and those among your neighbors who labor tirelessly on their behalf.

Now give thanks for your many blessings, and dig in.

The Word is Bird

We recommend that no one eat more than two tons of turkey – that’s what it would take to poison someone. Elizabeth Whelan, American Council on Science and Health