"It's not exactly the phoenix in the Garden of Paradise, but in Kendall Square it's apparently nearly as transfixing.

A wild turkey -- nicknamed Mr. Gobbles -- has made Cambridge its home since appearing somewhat mysteriously about three months ago.

Making an appearance at least once a day, sometimes just to peck indolently among the shrubs or to gaze at its reflection in building windows, the turkey attracts a procession of people snapping photographs. Parents have been known to show up on weekends with their children, and security guards from a nearby federal office building jealously look after the turkey, reporting they've already fended off potential kidnappers who, they fear, may have had foul play in mind.

''Certain individuals were walking behind the turkey in compromising attitudes,'' said Donald Rudman, of Volpe National Transportation Systems Center. Rudman says he's developed protective feelings for the bird and couldn't bear for anything to happen to it. ''I think we'd miss it.''

Some bring water and toss bits of food, though the turkey seems happy to feed on the acorns scattered on the ground. During coffee breaks, employees talk about the bird's latest antics. Volpe managers are said to be contemplating a Golden Turkey award for their employees this year.

''It's actually becoming sort of a mascot,'' Rudman said.

Wildlife specialists say the turkey is one of a string of gobblers that has popped up around Boston in the past few years, the byproduct of a statewide effort to repopulate the species.

Wild turkeys also roam parts of West Roxbury, Forest Hills, and other Boston neighborhoods, they said. Last year, a turkey invaded the garden behind Beacon Hill's Church of the Advent, startling the pastor before flying away.

Although Mr. Gobbles appears content in Cambridge, it is unusual for turkeys to stay in an urban area for long, said James Cahill, director of Boston Animal Control.

''Maybe he's trying to get a Harvard degree,'' Cahill said.

The state Department of Fisheries, Wildlife and Environmental Law Enforcement estimates that there are between 18,000 and 20,000 turkeys living in Massachusetts, mostly in rural parts of the state.

James Cardoza, a wildlife biologist with the department, said turkeys follow electrical wires, rivers, and parks into urban areas. Once there, they eat birdfeed, acorns, and what people feed them, he said.

About three weeks ago, 27-year-old Lukas Karlsson was standing outside the Volpe building taking pictures of the bird when security guards rushed him.

''This guy literally grabbed me,'' said Karlsson, a systems administrator at Whitehead Institute, a few blocks away. ''He said, `You have to come inside now!' ''

Guards whisked him inside, took his driver's license, and grilled him on what he was doing. He sat, waiting for the head of security to arrive for further questioning. The guards were worried about him taking pictures of the building, especially with the threat of terrorist bombings. But then Karlsson told them he was taking pictures for a page on his website devoted to the turkey.

Soon, Karlsson and the guards swapped stories and they showed him their pictures.

''When I told them I was just there taking pictures of the turkey, they got all excited,'' Karlsson said in a posting on his website. ''They love that turkey.''

The wild turkey known as Mr. Gobbles, captured on these photos by Lukas Karlsson, has been spotted in the urban environs of Cambridge's Kendall Square. (Photos courtesy Lukas Karlsson, lukwam.com)

Karlsson later posted the story and photos of his turkey run-in, attracting messages from other users about turkey sightings around Boston.

''Even my girlfriend didn't believe me,'' said Karlsson, who passes the turkey on his way to work. ''I had never seen a turkey before this, except maybe at the zoo.''

One Volpe employee has another idea why Mr. Gobbles has stayed so long.

''It must love the nightlife, or something,'' said Ross Elliott, a security guard. ''We don't let people bother it. If it wants to be here, it can stay. We'll protect it.''" (Sasha Talcott, The Boston Globe, June 27, 2003)