But I do have a story.
My friend Heidi, whom I love and adore, for she does all the things I only think about doing, has a post on her blog that reminded me of a great experience I had growing up. I actually started commenting on her blog, but then I realized I should just post it here. So here you go.
And to my sibs, please, fill in the gaps, for I'm sure my memory fails me.
When I was younger, say 12 or 13, my dad got this harebrained idea to raise live turkeys for Thanksgiving. The ultimate goal was to raise them to adulthood, then give the live turkeys away to the neighbors as gag gifts. Mean, I know, but my dad has that sort of personality.
So my dad and my brother fashioned the turkeys a little house out of metal, and we made them a cage that sat positioned between the shed and my dad's shop. It was a little swath of land, about 4 feet wide by 7 or 8 feet long. A cozy place to grow, if you're a turkey.
As I recall, we started out with maybe 10 or 11 turkeys. They were cute little chicks. (Is that what baby turkeys are called?) But then they started to grow. They grew fast, and they grew ugly. Turkeys are so weird looking. They get all matted and covered in poop, and their tiny heads are oddly out of proportion to their burgeoning busts. After the first few weeks, they quit being our cute pets, and became annoying stink bombs covered in feces.
Then the rain storms came. This was back in the day when it actually rained in Utah, and we didn't have the perpetual drought like we do now. Or maybe it was because I was a kid, and we only remember what we want to remember. Anyway, the rain came down. Not to worry, for the turkey's had their little piece of shelter in which to hide from the rains. We thought it no trouble. We had been out to dinner, Su Casa, if I remember correctly, and when we returned home, we had to do our duty and check on the turkeys.
The turkeys were dead. All but 1. There was no blood, no guts, no buckshot, nothing to lead us in the direction of their death. Until it started raining a little harder as we stood there. Then we realized the turkey house was near the down spout of the rain gutter. Now, a normal brained animal would think to run uphill, away from the water. The turkeys, however, stood their ground, and merely looked up at the torrent that poured down upon them. They looked up so intently, that they drown in the rain.
Yes, people, they died because the couldn't look away from the rain. They drown in the rain.
There was one lone remaining turkey, and it lived until Thanksgiving. We then boxed it up, put a bow on it, and gave it to the neighbor. Certainly this wasn't as funny as if the entire neighborhood had ended up with live turkey's on their doorsteps, but one was all we had to work with.
I forget who the recipient of the turkey was, so if it was a reader, please let me know. I owe you an apology, at the least.
So this year, when you're cooking up your big turkey feast, think about how many other turkey's had to die in the rain so your one could be saved.
Stupid bird brained turkeys.
Happy Friday!
7 comments:
Sorta. We only had them for like 3days when the hail came and they drown. They were still babies. Dad bought like 20 and he bought them at the IFA! I remember thinking that was wierd. I think we had 3 left because we gave 2 to Jenztch's and one to someone else but I don't remember. I can't believe he did that. Can't you just see mom, Ok whatever dan.
Those damn turkeys! I still hate turkeys to this day. There were 10 to start with, and all but 3 died in the rain that day. Best day of my youth. I used to have to take care of them and they always pecked at me. Hate those fowl fowl. (Hehe) The third one went to the Torgeson's. We were their home teacher, and we put it in their garage and ran!
Alice swears that turkeys are the dumbest animals alive. They will stand outside and freeze to death with shelter inches away - someone has to shoo them into the shelter.
Your story confirms her findings!
and to think that Ben Franklin wanted them to represent our country instead of the eagle. What was he thinking? or drinking at the time?
ok, way too funny! Remember we had our turkey at dixie one year? You cooked it up right! Maybe if you would have told me that story then, I might not have eaten it...well maybe.
K, that was obviusly before my time. I don't remember the Turkeys at all!
That's an AWESOME story! Oh my good golly. We actually raised a whole bunch of turkeys one summer for the youth to take on the pioneer trek and slaughter in true pioneer fashion. May I mention how glad I am that they decided once was enough for that experience and didn't repeat it when I was of trekking age?? Back to the turkeys. Man, they were stupid. Stinky. Poopy. Stand on each other's heads and drink poopy food kind of stupid. We had to keep clipping the wings so that they wouldn't fly out of the pen and get eaten by the wild beasties in the neighborhood. All I can say is that it cured me of the desire to ever raise a herd of birds (or at least that sort of birds) in my adult life.
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