John Clare gives us a lively, comic scene of a farmyard turkey in full swagger. The bird wades into a bee-filled border, breeds and returns with a noisy brood of chicks. But the real fun is the adult male’s puffed-up aggression. He gobbles loudly, his red wattle droops, he spreads his tail, drags a wing, and makes an angry buzzing sound. He challenges anyone who passes, driving off boys and even a wary old dog who snaps but stays back. The children throw sticks, kick dirt, and flee, while the turkey bounces and flies at them. Clare’s tone is one of pure delight—he watches this tiny tyrant with an affectionate, amused eye. The language is so alive with sound and movement that you can almost hear the gobbling and see the dust fly. The mood is warm, energetic, and gently mocking, turning a common barnyard moment into a small, earthy comedy.
Turkeys — Summary
The turkeys wade the close to catch the bees In the old border full of maple trees And often lay away and breed and come And bring a brood of chelping chickens home. The turkey gobbles loud and drops his rag And struts and sprunts his tail and then lets drag His wing on ground and makes a huzzing noise, Nauntles at passer-bye and drives the boys And bounces up and flies at passer-bye. The old dog snaps and grins nor ventures nigh. He gobbles loud and drives the boys from play; They throw their sticks and kick and run away.