Chained turkeys still escape enforcement

hanksgiving is a notoriously bad day for turkeys.

But not so long ago La Conner was a year-round refuge for the wild birds, a period memorialized by local artists in collage prints and sculptures still in evidence today.

A favorite example remains the metal turkeys that greet residents and tourists flocking to the La Conner Regional Library Thrift Shop on Morris Street.

Real turkeys, once a protected species here, were removed from La Conner about a decade ago after having ruffled feathers with their penchant for pecking at houses, leaving droppings, munching in gardens and even roosting on rooftops.

Not everyone was pleased with their relocation, however.

The most prominent of the turkeys in front of the thrift shop is clearly chained, which many see as more a political statement than a security measure.

“I don’t know who the artist was,” says Mayor Ramon Hayes, who was new in his tenure at Town Hall when the metal birds appeared, but I believe it was done as a message of lamentation that the turkeys had been removed.”

The first pair of live turkeys turned up close to 15 years ago in a town better known at the time for its colony of two-legged snow birds. Unlike the latter, the turkeys planned being permanent residents.

They seemed to enjoy their celebrity status.

“I remember there was a photo in the paper,” recalls Joan Scarboro, President of Friends of La Conner Regional Library, “where a couple of the turkeys were peering into a store window. It was almost as if the wife was talking to the tom about what they should buy.”

For a time, the turkeys were truly good for business. They were a popular attraction with tourists, who enjoyed seeing them strutting around town and, likewise on leisurely travel schedules, didn’t mind the birds holding up traffic.

But, as is apt to happen, La Conner’s status as a turkey sanctuary became too much of a good thing.

Growth management was a foreign concept to the turkeys.

A tom and hen that settled in Bud and Lynn Moore’s yard would eventually produce more than a dozen children and grandchildren.

By some accounts, the La Conner flock grew to nearly 20 birds by 2009.

Sanitation became a pressing concern. So much so that initially culling the flock and later removing it entirely came up for serious debate.

Serious might actually be putting it mildly.

There were strong opinions on both sides. Some embraced the charm and publicity generated by the turkeys. Others were less enamored, citing damage to flower beds, walls, and lawns.

“I’d never seen such a big issue,” recalls Hayes. “It made international news. I remember losing sleep worrying about what to do about the turkeys.”

The heavy lifting was assigned to Animal Control Officer Bill Stokes, now a member of the La Conner Town Council.

Hayes says Stokes, at the behest of then Town Administrator John Doyle, developed innovative methods, including elaborate traps and net guns, for safely capturing the turkeys.

Hayes will forever remember the day he looked up from his lawnmower to see two La Conner employees stalking turkeys nearby, each handling a net gun much as a hunter would a rifle.

The birds were eventually adopted out.

Scarboro says some were claimed by Good Samaritans, such as Bob and Marci Plank and John and Connie LeSourd. Others went to the Precious Life Animal Sanctuary, which boasted a large netted enclosure on the Olympic Peninsula with views of the Strait of Juan de Fuca.

Another person offered to pay the town $30 per turkey.

Though life-changing, the adoptions were at least life-saving.

“I don’t think any of them,” Scarboro says,” went to anyone’s Thanksgiving Day dinner table.”