Class: Mammalia
Order: Carnivora
Family: Procyonidae
Genus: Procyon
Species: Procyon lotor

Size and Weight: The adult raccoon is a medium-sized mammal and the largest of the Procyonidae family.  It averages 24 to 38 inches in length and can weigh between 14 to 23 lbs., or more, depending upon habitat and available food. The male raccoon, or boar, is slightly larger than the female, also referred to as sow. The young are called kits.

Physical Features: The mask of black fur that covers its eyes is its most characteristic and familiar feature. One hypothesis for the dark fur is that it may help reduce glare and enhance the nocturnal animal’s night vision. The species has grayish brown fur, almost 90% of which is dense underfur to insulate the animal against the cold. Five to eight light and dark rings alternate on its tail. Because its hind legs are longer than the front legs, a raccoon often appears hunched when they walk or run. The five toes on a raccoon’s front paws are extremely dexterous, functioning essentially as five little fingers which allow it to grasp and manipulate food it finds in the wild as well as a variety of other objects, including doorknobs, jars, and latches. A raccoon’s most heightened sense is its sense of touch. It has very sensitive front paws and this sensitivity increases underwater. When able, a raccoon will examine objects in water.

Life span: In the wild, a raccoon has a life expectancy of about 2 to 3 years, but in captivity a raccoon can live up to 20 years.

Diet: The raccoon is an omnivorous and opportunistic eater, with its diet determined heavily by its environment. Common foods include fruits, plants, nuts, berries, insects, rodents, frogs, eggs, and crayfish. In urban environments, the animal often sifts through garbage for food. The majority of its diet consists of invertebrates and plant foods.

Geography: The raccoon is native to North America and can be found throughout the United States, except for parts of the Rocky Mountains, and southwestern states like Nevada, Utah, and Arizona. It can also be found in parts of Canada, Mexico and the northern-most regions of South America. During the 20^th century, the species was introduced to other parts of the globe, and now has an extensive presence in countries like Germany, Russia, and Japan.

Habitat: Originally raccoons lived in the tropics where they could be found foraging along riverbanks. Over time they moved north up the continent, successfully adapting to new territories and expanding their diet. Traditionally, they live in tree cavities or burrows emerging at dusk to hunt frogs and crustaceans while keeping an eye out for predators such as coyotes and foxes. Barns have aided their northern migration, offering refuge from cold northern winters, and now, raccoons have been found as far north as Alaska. The species originally kept to the deciduous and mixed forests of North America, but its impressive ability to adapt has enabled the animal to move into a wide range of habitats, from mountainous terrains to large cities. The first urban sighting was in Cincinnati during the 1920s. Raccoon populations do very well in urban areas, primarily due to hunting and trapping restrictions, a general lack of predators, and an abundance of available human food. The size of a raccoon’s home range varies depending on habitat and food supply. In urban areas, its home range generally spans about one mile.

Breeding and Social Structure: The animal is nocturnal, mostly foraging and feeding at night. Though previously thought to be quite solitary, there is now evidence that the species congregates in gender-specific groups. Mating season for raccoons falls generally anytime between January and June.  Most females begin reproducing around the age of one. The female has a 65-day gestation period and gives birth to two to five kits, usually in the spring. A mother usually separates from other raccoons to raise her young alone. The male does not participate in the raising of the kits. The black mask is already visible on newly-born kits. The kits stay in the den with their mother until they are between 8-10 weeks old, and will stay with their mother until they reach 13-14 months of age.

Risks: A raccoon has few predators though the animal has been known to be attacked by cougars, bobcats, and coyotes. Disease, infection, and run-ins with cars are generally the primary risks for the species.  Some of their diseases, including roundworm, trichinosis and rabies, also place people and pets at risk.

Additional Facts:

• The raccoon’s scientific name, Procyon lotor is neo-Latin and translates to “before-dog washer.”
• Christopher Columbus is the first individual we know of to have written about the species.
• The raccoon’s taxonomy has been debated over time. Carl Linnaeus placed the raccoon in the Ursus genus—first as Ursus cauda elongate (“long-tailed bear”) and then as Ursus lotor (“washer bear”). In 1780, Gottlieb Congrad Christian Storr created a separate genus for the species, Procyon, meaning doglike.
• The English word “raccoon” is an adaptation of a native Powhatan word meaning “animal that scratches with its hands.”
• In the winter, the raccoon does not hibernate, but can sleep in its den for weeks.
• A raccoon can run at speeds of up to 15 miles per hour.
• The raccoon is a good swimmer and can stay in water for several hours.
• The species makes a variety of vocalizations including hisses, whistles, screams, growls and snarls.
• A series of studies in the mid-to-late-twentieth century show that a raccoon can remember solutions to tasks for up to 3 years.

That we might see a day when tigers no longer roam the planet is not out of the question. Three of the nine subspecies of tiger are already extinct: the Bali tiger, limited to the island of Bali and the smallest of the subspecies, the Javan tiger found in the Indonesian island of Java, and the Caspian tiger, which – although nearly identical to the Siberian tiger – is still recognized as its own subspecies. All three became extinct within the past 80 years. Hunting and poaching, and habitat destruction have been largely to blame for their disappearance. And it is these factors that are also putting the remaining six subspecies at risk. The Bengal, Indochinese, Malayan, Sumatran, Siberian, and South China tigers continue to be pushed into small pockets of land as human development encroaches on the tiger’s natural habitat. We are at what has been referred to as a tipping point – a critical time when humans must step-up and institute policies and regulations to help the dwindling tiger population. Without such a concerted effort, the remaining six species will meet a fate similar to that of the Bali, Javan, and Caspian tigers. Few animals are in such dire straights.

The historic tiger range included most of Asia – from Turkey to the far eastern coast of Russia. Since the turn of the twentieth century, tigers have lost about 93% of that range. Most tiger populations are now found in southern Asia – Bangladesh, Bhutan, Cambodia, China, India, Indonesia, Laos, Malaysia, Myanmar, Nepal and Thailand, and Vietnam – and in the outskirts of northeast Russia. Though the list of countries may seem long, little land is dedicated to wild tigers. In these nations, tigers are generally confined to a series of reserves – areas of land deemed suitable and set aside for tigers and other indigenous wildlife. The first wave of tiger reserves was born in the mid-to-late twentieth century in response to a heightened awareness of diminishing tiger numbers. India’s first nine reserves were the result of an alarming 1972 tiger census that reported population numbers in the nation to be as low as 2,400. (That number has steadily risen, until recently.) While reserves are important, they aren’t perfect. Some reserves are poorly managed, most are too small, and many are isolated from other neighboring reserves. Tiger populations are highly fragmented – a tiger family living in one park tends to be isolated from tiger families living in other nearby reserves. According to filmmaker and tiger conservationist Colin Stafford-Johnson, restricting tigers’ geographical range is a serious issue, not only because it cuts the genetic variation of offspring, but because tigers are, by nature, meant to roam.

Stafford-Johnson spent 600 days filming a tiger family in India’s Ranthambhore National Park. One of the tigers Stafford-Johnson follows, Broken Tail, inexplicably left his home in Ranthambhore. After traveling over 100 miles outside the park, he was killed by a train in the city of Darra. For Stafford-Johnson, Broken Tail’s story reinforces what is painfully obvious – Tigers need more space. Sizable tropical and subtropical forests need to be zoned for tigers, and existing reserves need to be connected, creating long stretches of land for tigers to safely pass through. Without such designated land, tiger populations will remain in jeopardy.

If scientists are right and we are indeed in the midst of a tipping point for tigers, it is only a matter of time before the future of the tiger is sealed. While there is much that looks grim about the situation, as long as there remains any possibility to effect positive change for the world’s tigers, there is hope. Stafford-Johnson sees reason to be optimistic. Authorities have become better at tracking tigers, and their movements have shown that many tigers don’t stay within the confines of the park. Studies like this back the notion that tigers need a much wider geographical range than what most parks offer. And since the film aired, Darra Sanctuary has been designated a national park. Focusing on these small wins is key for Stafford-Johnson. “Once you lose your optimism, you might as well give up.”

Kangaroo Mob Producer Sally Ingleton discusses the genesis of the documentary and what urban kangaroos can teach us.

The four species commonly referred to as kangaroos are: the red kangaroo (Macropus rufus), the eastern gray kangaroo (Macropus giganteus), the western gray kangaroo (Macropus fuliginosus), and the antilopine kangaroo (Macropus antilopinus).

Size and weight: A kangaroo can reach heights from anywhere between 3- 8 feet (1 to 3 meters) and can weigh between 40 and 200 lbs (18-100kg). The eastern gray kangaroo is the heaviest marsupial in the world and the red kangaroo is the largest.

Physical Features: The kangaroo has powerful hind legs and large feet, and a large muscular tail to keep it balanced while in motion. It is the only large animal to use hopping as its primary means of locomotion. A male kangaroo can leap to lengths of close to 30 feet and at a height of up to 10 feet. Its can reach speeds of up to 40 mph (60kmh).

Diet: The kangaroo is an herbivore, though its diet varies according to species. The animal has a chambered stomach, similar to that of cows, to help with the digestion process. The species also has highly specialized teeth. Its incisors are able to cut grass and shrubs extremely close to the ground and its molars are designed to grind down the vegetation. Its molars fall out regularly due to the wear and tear that comes with its diet, and are replaced with new teeth. The species has an unusual eating practice. The kangaroo regurgitates grass and shrubs that it has already eaten and chews it once more before swallowing it for final digestion. A kangaroo can survive for long periods without drinking water—hydrated by the moisture in the vegetation it consumes.

Geography: The kangaroo is endemic to Australia. The species is also found in Tasmania and nearby islands. Other marsupials can be found in some parts of Asia and the Americas, though the continent of Australia has by far the most, both in terms of species and population numbers.

Habitat: Woods and bushland, as well as grassland, savannas, forests, and scrubland. The species is highly adaptable and can live successfully in a wide range of habitats.

Breeding and Social Structure: The species often live in large groups known as mobs. These mobs can range in numbers anywhere from small groups to more than hundred kangaroos. The kangaroo is a highly social species, and often engages in nose touching or sniffing to build cohesion within the group. Boxing between males in the group is used to establish dominance. The dominant male leads the mob and has exclusive access to the females for mating.

A baby kangaroo is born only after about a month-long gestation period. Like all marsupials, the female kangaroo has a pouch, called a marsupium. Immediately after birth, the newborn—which is born hairless, blind, and under an inch in length—crawls into the pouch where it nurses and continues to develop. The joey, or baby kangaroo, remains in the pouch from anywhere between 120 and 400 days, depending on species. Even after leaving the pouch, it continues to feed off the mother for approximately a year and a half. Females produce two different types of milk, one for newborns and another for more mature joeys. During periods of drought, a female kangaroo loses the ability to conceive. As necessary resources are again available to the population, a female regains the ability to have offspring. In good conditions, a female gives birth annually.

Risks: Primarily humans who hunt the species for its meat and hide.

Additional Facts:

• The family name Macropodidae derives from macropods, meaning “big or large footed.”
• The word kangaroo comes from the aboriginal Guugu Yimithirr people’s word for the gray kangaroo (gangurru). The word was first recorded as “Kangooroo or Kanguru” in 1770 by British explorer James Cook.
• A long-standing myth says that the kangaroo’s name actually derives from a miscommunication between Cook and the aboriginal peoples. When Cook asked the locals the name of the species, they responded with the word “kangaroo”—supposedly translating to “I don’t know.” This, however, was not the case.
• A male kangaroo is called a buck, boomer, or jack and a female is referred to as a doe, flyer, or jill. A group of kangaroos (usually ten or more roos) is known as a mob, troop, or court.
• A kangaroo has excellent hearing. Like a cat, a kangaroo swivels its ears to pick up sounds.
• A kangaroo is unable to walk backwards.
• The kangaroo is represented on the Australian Coat of Arms, alongside the emu.
• Kangaroos are good swimmers.

What anatomical characteristics distinguish marsupial mammals from placental?

Living marsupials and placentals can be distinguished by a number of anatomical features, including structural differences in their ear regions, teeth, postcranial skeletons, reproductive tracts, and brains. Most people think of pouches when they think about marsupials, but not all marsupials have pouches.

When did these two subclasses of mammals separate from their common ancestor? What do we know about that common ancestor?

The lineages that gave rise to living marsupials and placentals are recognizably distinct in the fossil record as far back as the Early Cretaceous (about 125 million years ago), so the most recent common ancestor of these groups must have lived even earlier. How much earlier is controversial, with some estimates suggesting a date of almost 150 million years (in the Late Jurassic). We don’t know anything about that ancestor for certain, but we assume that it was not unlike the earliest known marsupials and placentals: probably a small climbing (arboreal or semiarboreal) mammal, perhaps superficially resembling living opossums or tree shrews. Because the earliest known marsupial and placental fossils are from China, most paleontologists assume that their most recent common ancestor lived somewhere in eastern Asia.

What is convergent evolution and what are some examples of convergent evolution between marsupial and placental mammals?

Convergent evolution is the appearance of similar traits in distantly related lineages. Examples of convergent evolution between placentals and marsupials are the extinct Tasmanian “wolf” (a very wolflike marsupial), marsupial “moles” (living molelike marsupials that burrow in the sandy deserts of Australia), and kangaroo rats (North American rodents that hop on their hind legs like kangaroos).

Why are the majority of current-day marsupials found in Australia? Why are they not more successful elsewhere?

Good question. First, however, it’s important to point out that there are still over 100 species of marsupials alive today in the New World. Most live in South America, although many species also occur in Central America and one (the Virginia opossum) occurs as far north as southern Canada. Before the Panama land bridge connected North America and South America in the Pliocene (about 3 million years ago), South America was an island continent with an even more diverse marsupial fauna than it has today. In fact, the most recent common ancestor of living marsupials probably lived in South America, and its descendants crossed Antarctica (then ice-free) to invade Australia. One line of thinking is that marsupial diversity is greater in Australia than in South America because there were no terrestrial placental mammals to compete with marsupials in ancient Australia.

Kangaroos are the only large mammal to use hopping as their primary form of locomotion. Do we know when this adaptation occurred and why? How does the species benefit from this adaptation? And why are kangaroos the only large mammals to maneuver vast terrains by hopping?

Bipedal hopping, as seen in modern kangaroos, evolved gradually, over millions of years, and resulted from many anatomical adaptations that appear at different times in the fossil record. Some form of primitive hopping locomotion by kangaroo ancestors is probably quite old, perhaps dating back to the Eocene (based on inferences from molecular dates, not fossils). However, fast bipedal hopping is only an effective means of locomotion in deserts, grasslands and other open habitats (free of overhanging woody vegetation), which became widespread in Australia much later, in the last 15 million years or so. The advantages of hopping are still not clear: it’s only energetically efficient at high speeds. Hopping is similar to galloping in that energy is stored in elastic tendons between strides, so these gaits might be energetically equivalent solutions for fast or long-distance locomotion. I don’t know why only kangaroos are the only large mammals that hop, but many smaller mammals (especially rodents) have convergently evolved to do so.

How have marsupials, especially kangaroos and their predecessors, evolved over the years as Australia’s ecosystem changed?

Australian marsupials evolved in many ways to meet the challenges of drier habitats over the last 15 million years. Teeth, for example, reflect adaptive changes from browsing (on woody vegetation in moist climates) to grazing (on grasses in arid climates). Kangaroo ancestors were quadrupedal (walking on four legs most of the time) in forested habitats and became progressively more bipedal as habitats dried out and opened up.

Do you have a favorite marsupial (living or extinct)?

Well, I must confess a fondness for opossums (New World marsupials), so much less charismatic than kangaroos and koalas, but with their own unique adaptations. Several opossum species, for example, eat venomous snakes. Snake-venom resistance is a biochemical, not a morphological adaptation, and it is another example of convergent evolution: besides opossums, mongooses and hedgehogs are also snake-venom resistant.

 
 
Have you always been so connected with animals?

Yes, I suppose I was one of those kids who was born a little congenital scientist or some such thing. I was obsessively drawn to other living things– often to the exclusion of all other priorities. My parents were, if not supportive, at least indulgent to my obsessions. And bless their hearts! They just laid down a linoleum floor in my bedroom, and the rule was: any critter is OK, as long as it stays in the bedroom or outside, it must be well fed and clean, and absolutely no poisonous snakes inside the house! I rarely kept my animals in cages and almost all slept with me in the bed. The list was endless. Big, small, mammal, bird or reptile. I think at one point I had a small bobcat, a gray squirrel, and a seven foot boa constrictor, all living in perfect harmony.

Where was the Florida Turkey piece filmed?

My Life as a Turkey was filmed on a large family ranch in south-central Florida. My original project was conducted adjacent to a National Forest and Wilderness Area southwest of Tallahassee in northern Florida. The ecology in the area of north Florida is very dense, swampy and jungle-like. The Ranch location was, in many ways, a very similar oak hammock ecology with sandy scrub-oak ridges. The plants and animals were basically the same with a few exceptions, however there was open “savannah/prairie” like cattle land which was much more photo-friendly. The north Florida location would have been more of a continuous wall of green. The ranch also afforded better logistic accommodations for the crew, with complete privacy for the turkeys. All the wild animals filmed in the documentary were wild residents with the exception of one or two of the snakes that were obtained from a local snake “Wrangler”.

Did you ever find out who the person was that left the eggs and do you think they were all from the same clutch?

Yes, I knew the fellow who brought me the eggs. He was actually an employee on a very large quail hunting preserve. The eggs were from two separate nests, which allowed me to immediately make discriminations between the family groups according to size, coloration and variations in subtle markings. For example, the color of the legs were distinctive at the time of hatching. Even the eggs looked slightly different in color and speckling. Overall the two family groups were quite different in appearance. And yes, I did have the experience of encountering two of my adult hens when they had 10 week old poults of their own. It was an awkward encounter in the forest where the hens recognized me and were quite unafraid, but of course their poults had never seen a human, and like all wild turkeys, were horrified at my sight and flew in panic. The mother hens were obviously confused but of course had to quickly follow their brood. A lady living miles away had one of my hens living on her place. The hen was relatively tame, would bring her young poults into her yard and garden, but again, the young poults were intolerant of the woman’s company.

Do you think the birds and especially Sweet Pea, were more vulnerable to predation being raised by a human rather than a real turkey mom? Perhaps in the way of being too trusting?

I have been very concerned about this familiarization/ habituation issue that would cause an animal that knows me to somehow be at greater risk from predation or other humans. In the case of the turkeys, I quickly found that 20 million years as a prey species has honed their survival skills to a razors edge and my proximity was essentially inconsequential in the face of any predator. As for other humans, I found that the turkeys were in fact suspicious of other people even at a great distance and could in fact ,with their keen eyes, discriminate between me and anyone else from a quarter of a mile! I have found these powers of discrimination as evident and perhaps even keener in mule deer.

Did you have a sense that the males from your two clutches of eggs might be segregating at all (i.e. hanging out more with genetic relatives)? Did you notice any traits of the males that were socially dominant?

I think Lovett Williams, et al. established or suggested that sibling male wild turkeys tend to stay fraternal throughout their lives– certainly in the first couple of years. That has been my observation as well. However, I think these bonds are somewhat tenuous and involve constant minor conflict to insure the dominance of one particular male. Mature brothers will often display beside an actively breeding dominant gobbler without ever suggesting that they would try to participate in breeding activity. I have photographed this phenomenon many times while concealed in blinds with wild spring flocks. It was not until I lived with the gobbler flock that I raised, that the more subtle dynamics of the male fraternity became obvious. These brotherly hierarchies are generally well established prior to maturity and are formed on the basis of innate individual aggressiveness as well as superior size and strength. A dominant gobbler was probably a dominant poult. Gobblers of course, rarely live to a ripe old age, and so “lone older gobblers” quickly become the norm, but it would be interesting to know how sibling gobblers would preserve their fraternity over many years. And as you probably know, old males will on occasion abstain from all Spring breeding activity and conflict, living a quiet solitary life. I have also observed on several occasions a younger “apprentice” jake, form attachments to an older lone gobbler. I don’t think a fraternal group would ever allow this, but if jake and older gobbler have each lost their family group, I think there is a mutual need for companionship that allows some sort of bond to occur. Conjecture of course.

Were you shocked that “turkey boy” attacked you or was that normal behavior for a tom turkey? Was it a territorial issue? Do you think Turkey Boy was hurt over you leaving?

Hand raised male turkeys have a history of eventually becoming aggressive towards humans. I always thought it might be a possibility– but I was still surprised that my buddy– Turkey Boy– wanted to harm me! It was not so much a territorial issue as just an unfortunate “male thing”.

Turkey Boy and I actually resolved our differences after his breeding season ended. The film had to abbreviate our rather complex relationship for the sake of time. Eventually Turkey Boy left on his own and I never saw him again, and I address this in the book in some detail. So, it was me who was hurt over HIS leaving. After all these years I still miss them. This film is hard for me to watch.

What are the top 3 surprises in your studies?

Top three surprises? Getting the eggs of course was the biggest surprise but at the top of the list would be the overwhelming complexity of these creatures that I encountered. I was already somewhat of a casual authority on these birds– but I found so many interesting surprises. In particular, an extraordinary intelligence characterized by true problem solving reason, and a consciousness that was undeniable, at all times conspicuous, and for me, humbling. It should come as no surprise to any of us, considering what we now know about the universe– the closer you look into reality, whether the microcosm or the macrocosm– whether the particle accelerator or the Hubble telescope– things don’t become less complex– and not just more complex but– infinitely more complex. Even the familiar laws of physics break down and no longer apply and we find ourselves searching for new models and paradigms to explain nature. So too with the nature of living things. We need to see the world once again, with new eyes. The wild turkeys have taught me to never see the world the same way again. You look at any living thing closely enough and sooner or later you realize the complexity is beyond comprehension.

If you could teach the turkeys a human thing, what would you teach? If you were to ask them one turkey question, what would you ask?

Wow, I don’t know of one thing wild turkeys could learn from us that would be useful or helpful. Stay away from the road? I still of course believe wild turkeys to be in many ways, a vastly superior creature. (not entirely tongue-in-cheek). One question I could ask them? What must it be like to exist in a state of complete wakefulness? To be the definition of Sentient. That’s got to be, at the very least, some serious fun!

Why do you think that people always seem surprised that animals show intelligence, reason, use tools, show affection and emotions?

As far as humans finding it difficult to recognize a higher order of experience in other creatures — First, most people honestly don’t have the contact and are not having opportunities to pay attention. We are way to busy just trying to keep it together. The good news bad news answer is, we are also “evolving” out of a darker consciousness, in which humans assumed they were completely removed from the natural world and were entitled to have absolute dominion over it. Even now, we refer to the earth as possessed of our “natural resources”– implying that the natural world is merely the repository of all things consumable by “man”. Humans are, as an evolutionary species, defined in part by an element of aggressive arrogance– highly adaptive for a small creature trying to employ reason rather than overwhelming physical prowess. Because obviously, intellegence is a double edged sword that can turn on us as we become paralyzed by recognizing our conspicuous vulnerability. The old, “none of us is getting out of this alive!” phenomenon. However, is it possible that this arrogance, as seen in the light of our very recent and now overwhelming lack of vulnerability, can and has become, more of an evolutionary artifact? Has it now become mal-adaptive and merely a highly destructive form of ignorance? The good news is, it is possible for us all to become wakeful– pay attention. I think we simply must now become a creature that is truly characterized by reason and consciousness– and perhaps we had better hurry.

What has it been like to reimmerse yourself into human society? Life with the turkeys seems so fulfilling and spiritual, I imagine it would be so difficult to be a part of the human world.

In fact it was rather difficult to re-enter my old life and culture. Living with the turkeys was a very intense emotional experience and yes, as you say, spiritual. I had some difficulty, for a year or two, trying to reintegrate and attach significance to other things. Perhaps like a touch of “PTSD”. I also experienced something very similar when I finally had to leave the mountain after several months living alone with the bighorn sheep above timberline in Wyoming. Living in a wilderness environment for months or years, tones and heightens your awareness. All the associated physical stress also raises the level of intensity. In both cases, the thought of having to return to my “normal” life and just having to be boring old me again was a dreadful notion. Who was it? Byron or someone who said, “I love not man the less but, nature more”, well it’s sort of like that I suppose.

Do you keep in contact with friends and family while doing your studies (via phone or online)?

Not really, and I have a fundamental dislike of the things– don’t know why. When I conducted the turkey study in the 90s, cell phones were not around yet. On the bighorn sheep study, cell phones would not work in a remote wilderness at that time. There is no question that a cell phone will save your life on occasion in the back country. I do carry one now in remote places, but refuse to ever turn it on, except in an emergency. Wilderness is more of a romantic notion than a reality anyway, and a fragile notion at that, so when I have a chance to fulfill the illusion, I would never choose to interrupt, or worse destroy, a magic that is so hard to achieve!

In this re-enactment, was it necessary to have a new brood of poults imprint on you and was it necessary to relive the entire year-plus experience with its intense immersion? Did you find that the “actor” birds naturally assumed the roles of the 1991 birds, one clingy, some adventurous, and so on, and finally one who hung around long enough to emphatically chase you away? Did you find that re-enacting this experience allowed you to have somewhat more detachment the second time around, knowing how the course of the project would unfold? Was the experience much changed by the presence of the cameras and camera operators?

The American PBS version of the film tried to make it clear that this was a “reenactment”, as it says in the opening credits. In fact, the film was a genuine “recreation”– a complete replication of an experiment. It served as a vindication for me, in the sense that if an experiment cannot be replicated it is considered to be of no scientific merit. I of course, had no way of knowing if other young wild turkeys would behave as mine did. So, the simplified explanation is: After permitting was accomplished, the State of Florida trapped wild turkey hens, installed radio collars in Spring, robbed nests when they started laying ,and the backwoods savvy actor, Jeff Palmer incubated and began “imprinting” the eggs. (Hens, by the way, will nest a second time or even a third if they are unsuccessful on the first try.) My roll was strictly on-screen and off screen narration. The guy you see with the birds is always Jeff. They did in fact film for over a year in order to record all the development and life cycle. Wild turkey personalities vary wildly, so conveniently, there were similarities in the group that approximated a Sweet Pea and a Turkey Boy– and yes, poor Jeff got butt kicked by the Turkey Boy character. To my absolute amazement, this film crew– mostly legendary British cinematographer, Mark Smith– managed to actually recreate many events in the book that I considered impossible. He and Jeff were incredible! Jeff had to be with those poults, as I was, and my hat is off that they pulled this project off. I frankly was very pessimistic that this “recreation” was a possibility. I felt that I had been impossibly lucky in the first place and there was probably no way there luck would hold out as well. There were about a thousand things that could have gone wrong at any point along the way that would have killed the entire project. This was an heroic effort by Passion Pictures from London, PBS, BBC, and of course Jeff. And such lovely people– all. I will always be grateful.

The end of the film said you were now living with mule deer, how did you become involved with them?

Leslye and I live on an old historic ranch in Wyoming. We back up to the Wind River Mountains with unbounded wild lands surrounding us. The location is prehistoric winter range for mule deer (and so of course, mountain lions and other large predators), and our winter herd usually averages between 35 and 40 individuals. We have a number of year-round residents as well. I have been studying these deer and developing extraordinary relationships with them for over six years now. They have volunteered and chosen us, by the way. It is suggested that mule deer may have the largest brain of any deer in the world, as well as a number of other unique characteristics. They are in fact– profoundly intelligent, and capable of remarkable communication and have shown an overwhelming curiosity and willingness for human contact and interaction. We are multiple generations into this herd, they allow me to accompany them on excursions into the back country, and once again, I am being treated as just another, “perhaps rather odd”, member of the family. A book is in the works.

Are you filming your life with the bighorns?

There has been talk about a “bighorn” film. However, unlike the turkey documentary, it is a very complex story involving a large ecosystem with issues that are being studied and explored by a small army of gifted researchers. It has been suggested that a 50 minute documentary would not do justice to such a broad study. There have been rumblings about a full length feature film that could treat the subject matter more appropriately.

I personally think it would make a profoundly beautiful and timely film, with many compelling elements in a drop-dead-gorgeous place on the planet.

Are you going to have some turkey this Thanksgiving?

Well, I must say I would be a hypocrite if I disapproved of people eating turkey at Thanksgiving or any other time, as I was born into a hardcore turkey hunting family and culture. But, it’s probably obvious at this point, that I could never kill a wild turkey. And also, I must say I’m very conflicted and largely disapproving of the commercial meat industry in general. But, I live in Wyoming– defined in part by the livestock industry, and many people here don’t always rely on other people to kill their animals for them. So, as you can see, I’m skirting around the question. We are joining some friends for Thanksgiving and I’m guessing we’ll have elk tenderloin. I’ll rely heavily on the greens and cornbread!

Photo © David Allen
Photo © Joe Hutto

My Life as a Turkey recounts Joe Hutto’s experience raising a group of wild turkey hatchlings to adulthood; however, the actual footage in the film was of wildlife photographer and actor Jeff Palmer. Sixteen turkey chicks were imprinted on Palmer, and his time with them was carefully documented by filmmaker David Allen. In this audio slideshow, Palmer discusses reenacting Joe Hutto’s imprinting experiment, his involvement with the production, and being mom to his own rafter of turkeys.