Fecal Matters: Improving turkey health through the science of poop

Each time we get in a new flock of turkeys, a new cycle of testing begins. Every five days, for the first twenty days of life, we collect fecal samples to create a chart of the proliferation of a certain Cocci virus which is common in the birds and can cause major intestinal damage, but which they can become immune to if exposed early enough in life. Today was day fifteen. And so, armed with some tiny baggies and my sampling tool (a pair of chopsticks joined together at the top), I trooped down to the barns to pick up some poop.

Admission: I really enjoy this job. Not that I necessarily like the constant bending over, squatting, and peering for tiny turds buried under shavings, or the press of turkey bodies as they crowd around me and trample my delicate samples, but the very idea of using poop as a monitoring tool is strangely appealing. There is so much potential data packed in there, in those little droppings. Information about diet, infections, stress - it's all there, easy to read if you pay attention. At a macro scale, it is exciting to follow the movement of poop - ahem, manure - around the country, where it is bought and sold and transported, and find out where it is over-applied to cropland and runs off into rivers and streams. I love the science of poop.

I don't even mind the smell of the turkey droppings. As the birds get older, and their poop becomes more prolific, the barns begin to take on a distinct ammonia odor, which is unpleasant. However, before the concentration of ammonia becomes bothersome, the main smell from our turkey droppings is yeasty, almost like bread dough. I believe this is due to the partially digested corn that makes up a large portion of their droppings, which continues to ferment in the wood shavings we use as bedding after passing from their digestive tracts. Like a little dough factory, my turkeys churn out their little droppings and then, fascinated, follow me around the barn while I painstakingly separate the fresh piles out of the old, dried-out bits and drop them into my baggy.

We prepare the samples according to flotation procedures common to any poultry farmer or veterinarian. Then we painstakingly count the numbers of cocci under a microscope and add another data point to our chart. Today, day fifteen, ought to be the peak. After this the virus tapers off as the birds gain immunity and pass the virus from their systems. In five days, I'll get to go through the barns again and perform my sampling ritual, yet again immersed in the endlessly fascinating world of science and poo.