These traffic cops have mean looks and feathers

One resident said the birds are hilarious but a nuisance.
By ASHLEE OWENS
VINDICATOR CORRESPONDENT
COLUMBIANA -- They are Columbiana's street gang. They pass the day aimlessly roaming the neighborhood, cutting through yards, strutting up and down sidewalks, sauntering down the middle of streets, sometimes detaining cars that drive too slowly through their territory, then chasing them off.
They make eye contact with drivers and stare them down in cold, stony silence.
Yet, amazingly, some neighborhood residents protect this gang.
Why?
This gang consists of wild turkeys that have made the city their home. The turkeys are often seen near Columbiana Manor Apartments. There are about five adults, but the number fluctuates.
No one seems to know exactly when the first turkey wandered into town, but village residents' accounts place the date around October 2001.
Columbiana County Game Warden Scott Blattert speculates the turkeys came from an outlying wooded area and were possibly drawn in by the amenities of town life.
"I think people started feeding them," Blattert says.
And the eating's good. Columbiana resident Phyllis Miller reports seeing the turkeys stretch their necks to eat from a birdfeeder at one house before trotting to another yard for a sip from a birdbath.
Easy pickings for wild turkeys, considering a tom stands 48 inches tall and females top out at 36 inches, according to National Audobon Society Field Guide to North American Birds.
What happened
A few Manor Apartment residents didn't approve of this assisted-living arrangement, though, and Blattert was called in to remove the turkeys from town. Blattert faced several obstacles.
"I had one in the net," Blattert said, "but it got out. It was a footrace and they won."
Another hurdle: Some neighbors. Upon seeing Blattert chasing the birds, several residents raised a ruckus.
"I think they had a little meeting in there [the apartment complex]," Blattert says, "because the next thing I heard was, 'Just leave the turkeys alone.'"
Consider it done.
Carol Roessler, who lives on North Pearl Street, near Manor Apartments and smack in purported turkey territory, first encountered the turkeys one morning while driving. A large male, or tom, strutted in front of her car, refusing to allow her to pass.
"The more I honked the horn, the more he defied me. I rolled the window down and went, 'Get out of here! Get out of here!'" Roessler recalls.
The tom, however, stood his ground, and tensions escalated to the point that Roessler's granddaughter suggested, "Grandma, if he doesn't move, you just hit him with the car, and he'd taste good with stuffing and gravy," Roessler said, laughing.
The turkey's traffic-stopping routine is, perhaps, their hallmark.
"The funniest part about it," says Miller, who lives on the corner of North Pearl Street and Salem Street, "is when people stop. Then he's got them. People will get out of their cars to chase him away, and he runs around behind the car. Then by the time they get back in, he's right back in front again."
Sometimes drivers call police to complain about the birds backing up traffic.
Roessler knows when a turkey has stopped traffic by the honking of car horns. Sometimes she plays the Samaritan and runs out to free traffic from turkey bondage using her dust mop.
But the turkeys are never gone for long. In fact, the turkeys had the nerve to show their faces on Thanksgiving.
Charlotte McLaughlin, who lives across the street from Roessler, says a turkey set foot on her porch on Thanksgiving. She "invited him in for lunch," but the bird had other plans.
Blattert sheds light on the "other plans." He said he saw turkeys in someone's yard and pulled into the driveway.
"They were eating the corn off an ornament the people had stuck out for Thanksgiving -- right in the front yard," Blattert says.
They have friends
Despite the turkeys' predominantly pesky personalities, some townspeople display an underlying affection for the birds. A police dispatcher says residents sometimes call to report when cars drive too fast past the turkeys.
Miller proudly pulls out photos she's taken of the turkeys. One is marked on the back, "Oct. 25: back yard. Tom Turkey and family." Another photo, taken at a distance and featuring a blurry dot in front of a stopped Jeep is labeled, "Tom stopping traffic, 2002."
Roessler notes the entertaining value of watching the turkeys through the window. At times, she enjoys sitting on her patio and observing them.
"They're hilarious," she says.
But, for Roessler, their redeeming qualities stop with being entertaining.
"If I had to describe those turkeys in one word, it would be nuisance," Roessler says.
Harold E. Bailey, a k a The Friendly Trapper, expresses similar sentiments. "I don't like them being in town," he says, citing the possibility of the turkeys' causing a car accident. "But what are we going to do?"
However, a police dispatcher said: "No one has complained about them being destructive. People around here love them."
Blattert predicts the turkeys will continue multiplying, and then he'll be called out again to remove them.