Turkey’s Lament…..
This is written to record the misadventures of raising turkeys as a cash crop. Last year, my middle grandson, the intrepid farmer in the family, raised some turkey chicks from egg to table with mixed results. Turns out, one needs to “harvest” one’s turkeys at just the right point of plumpness before they self-destruct from too much of a good thing.
This year, another generation of turkeys were started up somewhat later in the season to avoid an excess of avoirdupois. Alas, they will fall to the ax, so to speak, a tad on the lean side.
But, next year……ah, next year, the third time should be the charm!
And, in the meantime, here comes…….
A Turkey’s Lament
Written just for you
By the Q.O.E.
Thanksgiving 2019
A long and scrawny length of leg
Emerging from a shattered egg…
And thus begins our tale of strife,
The agony of turkey life.
Out steps the second lanky limb,
As though lured on by wanton whim,
To wobble in uncertain stance,
To weakly walk and then to dance.
“Word has it that the previous year,
Other turkeys living here
Were kept too long, were too well fed,
And toppled over….
Somewhat dead.”
This current turkey hatched much later,
His chance of thriving thus was greater.
No self-induced asphyxiation
For this fine feathered
Bird creation!
And so his life stretched long and calm
Beneath the shadow of his Mom…
And from the moment he was born
Nourished well on grains and corn.
Yes, corn: a young bird’s sweet peyote;
Quells fears of foxes and coyote…
Though heartbeats race and pulses quicken,
When dog devours random chicken.
The days go by,
The weeks a-mount,
Too soon the months begin to count,
Til, after all this easy living,
There lurks the specter of Thanksgiving!
“Am I paranoid or just inventive?
The farmer seems much more attentive.
For months almost no heed was paid,
Now, suddenly, I’m being weighed.”
Still, no one seems in any hurry:
“Perhaps a nice bird needn’t worry?”
Though clients for the Farmer’s market
Pull up the family van and park it
Where they can eye the birds more closely,
And thus the turkey thinks morosely,
“There’s something up, it’s plain to see…
Some manner of secret conspiracy.”
One day the farmer, with quiet pride,
Takes all the turkeys out for a ride.
And they all return, we have heard it said,
Naked as jaybirds and very dead.
Another rumor we’ve yet to prove
Is that their innards have been
Removed…
Replaced with a mix of spice and bread,
But, still they’re naked and still they’re dead.
Then into the oven each victim goes,
With wings tucked in and trussed up toes.
For several hours, the clock goes ‘round,
Til out comes the turkey all golden brown.
A tragic tale that has come to an end…
But next year the horror will start again…
When a new generation will give their all
To Farmers,
And Kroger
And Butterball.