According to James Lipton’s book An Exaltation of Larks, a group of turkeys is called a “raft,” as in a large, often motley collection of things: a raft of books. (p 47). I do not intend to challenge the term found in the 1486 book by Dame Juliana, "The Boke of Saint Albans," or the earlier "Egerton Manuscript," 1450, but rather to add to it my own term of venery for a gathering of these birds based on personal experience.
One evening last week, all of us attending the writing workshop at Collegeville, ate dinner at the Episcopal House of Prayer just down the road from the Institute. After wine and lentil stuffed peppers, we walked to see the Oratory that sits next door. Chairs circled the diameter of the prayer room, pillows and mats dotting the space between the edge and the center circle that was filled with sand and held an ornate brass cross on a tall standard. The space above the center telescoped out in softly lit layers that drew the eye to the evening sky.
A small rectangular space sat at the four direction points, a window looking out at the nearby woods. Four women were gathered in one of these, looking outside and discussing a bird in their view.
I heard snatches of their conversation:
“Do you think it’s a wild turkey?”
“No. I don’t think they can fly that high.”
“Maybe it’s a turkey buzzard.”
As one who had made a list of birds I might see while in Minnesota, I walked over and looked out the window to see the mysterious creature. Read More