Went to a turkey farm this morning - I can still smell it on my coat - and watched about a gazillion and 1/2 fat white turkeys strutting around, gobbling like idiots and turning their heads red and puffy to intimidate me.
I say 1/2 because one poor soul was on his back, being attacked by the others. The flock had apparently adopted the prisoners' code of silence and nobody was talking so I don't know why they were so mad at him. I mean, what could a turkey do to piss off its fellow turkeys? Strut a little bit too cockily? Gobble after 10 p.m.? Hog all the grubs? Brag about its breast size? The owner carried him out to a solitary confinement pen. He'll still be toast by Sunday, in fact, they were all Dead Turkeys Walking.
It's Thanksgiving, you know.
I, for one, am thankful I don't have to pluck those gazillion and a 1/2 turkeys.
I am also thankful that I discovered my shirt was on backwards before I left home this morning.
I'm thankful for cell phones because both the newspaper's photographer and I got lost on the way to the turkey farm this morning trying to use directions provided by the FARM ITSELF.
I'm thankful that this horrid week is almost over, almost over, almost over....ooops. Am I repeating myself?
I'm thankful you pointed that out.
2 comments:
Sounds like the annual trek to New Sharon. Am I correct?
Nope, went to Plymouth - Dilly Dally Farm which was about 14 dirt roads and twisty turns into the woods.....scary.....
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