There’s a tasty turkey dinner a-scratching in my yard.
He’s an old boss gobbler and the subject of a bard.
Little does he know what this holiday will bring?
Little will he care when that dinner bell will ring?

I’ll sharpen up my hatchet for some chopping I will do.
I’ll shoot that strutting gobbler with my trusty twenty-two.
He’ll flip and flop and flutter till I pluck his plumage clean.
And he won’t mind a bit if I pull the feathers from his wings.

I’ll dress him for our dinner and save a feather for my hat.
I’ll stuff him full of dressing then sweep the welcome mat.
We’ll put him in the oven and bake him till he’s brown.
Its Turkey Bird Thursday and the leaves are on the ground.

P.D. 2002

Ah yes. As a young child, our neighbor raised several breeds of chickens, ducks, and geese. She didn't use her 22 to lay the table but an axe upon the stump of a large old tree. The stump was just about on the property line, and after she stunned her prey for humane purposes, she held the feet and legs securely in her left hand, while laying the head and neck on the stump. With one strong stroke the poor bird was done but not before flapping his/her wings and running around our yard exsanguinating until it came to rest. I could go on about dipping it in boiling water to singe the feathers and making it easier to pluck and the delightful aroma that arose from that exercise and on to the cleaning, etc. but I wont.

I guess that's one of the greatest gifts of "lesser" animals -- no knowledge of their mortality and the accompanying fears and anxieties associated with it.

For some reason, I am content to shop in the local supermarket for my birds, etc.

It is a delightful poem PD and I felt suddenly young again, reliving some of those past experiences. Thank you for sharing with us on this most hallowed celebration! Prosit!

I sometimes see as many as 10 or 15 turkeys in my field but no desire to shoot one. I’d rather go to my daughter’s house, a lot less mess. Thanks PD and have a fantastic tomorrow.

Jack