This story brings back a childhood memory of mine. When I was about 8 years old, my uncle raised turkeys. They weren't the dumb white ones. They were, I believe, considered game birds. They were dark colored like wild turkeys, but they were larger and not quite as wild and weren’t as good at flying. These birds roamed the barnyard. Us kids had to keep an eye out for these crazy birds because they would attack viciously. And I mean they were relentless. It was like a war zone and they were always trying to sneak up on us. There were 2 dogs around that would defend us. A golden, and a large fox terrier. These birds only had half their feathers from their tangles with the dogs. And I didn't feel one bit sorry for those birds either. They were mean, and they didn't run from those dogs without putting up a fight first. And it seems to me the dogs didn't alway win. We couldn't count on the dogs always being around though. So we started carrying baseball bats with us. Boy, I still remember whacking those dam birds so hard I'd swear I was killing them. But it didn't seem to hurt them much. THey’d just run off and a little while later, they'd be back trying to attack again.
No kidding! I drove past a few of them on the shoulder of the highway as they were pecking at the gravel. I thought there were crows until it was too late to slow down. One of them flew up and hit my sideview mirror and broke it off. I thought for sure it was a dead turkey - looked in my rearview mirror and saw it land on the highway, shake itself, and fly off.
It's like hitting a cannonball.
Once I was hiking in the woods, and a wild turkey came out of the brush and started chasing me. I figured there was a nest of them nearby. Big angry nasty birds, better to leave them alone.