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First runner-up becomes Thanksgiving dinner
Published October 29, 2009
He was so close. Just a little luck and he would go down in history as one of the most beloved birds of all time.
After all, one of the founding fathers thought enough of him to nominate him to be the national bird of the new country. He was a native American and had the majestic Latin name of “meleagris gallopavo.” Didn’t it sound elegant?
His dark iridescent body, his flight feathers barred with white, red wattles, blackish breast tuft, spurred legs and bare-skinned head of blue and pink stood out in the rather dull bird world of the forest.
He sat on the edge of the woods where he watched the Liberty Hall where the fathers of the new country were meeting. A small wisp of smoke rose into the chilly fall air from the chimney. It was white, but all birddom knew that when it turned black, it meant the national bird of the United States had been chosen.
Finally it happened and the men ran out of the building shouting, “The eagle, the bald eagle is our national bird.”
Tom felt a chill run up his back at the words. “How could they chose an eagle?” he asked himself. A scavenger, a killer of other birds, a common fisherman with the revolting Latin name of “haliacetus leucocephalus.”
He started to walk away but Benjamin Franklin called to him. Old Ben put his arm around Tom’s neck. The other arm, oddly enough, he kept behind his back.
“I’m sorry,” Ben said. “I tried, but they wanted a bird that could soar in the heavens, and you can barely get your fat body off the ground.”
Tom noticed a strange smile on Ben’s face.
“What will happen to me now?” Tom asked his old friend.
“You will become the most popular bird in America,” Ben said. “The people will set aside a day to honor you and they will have a great feast in your behalf.”
Tom was feeling a little uneasy as Ben’s hand tightened around his throat. Ben smiled at him again. “They will compliment your tender legs and make sure you are full of bread pudding.”
It sounded a little flattering to Tom, and he noticed that Ben had begun to drool.
“I’m very sleepy,” Tom said.
“Why don’t you just lay your head down on that tree stump and rest,” Ben said.
Tom smiled as he lay down on the stump and stretched his neck out. He took one final look into the eyes of Ben and prayed that his friend would have a good lunch.
He dosed off thinking how great being the most popular bird in the country would be and he dreamed of sweet potatoes, cranberries and pumpkin pie.
I hope you all enjoy your Thanksgiving dinner.
E.M. “Bosie” Boswell is a member of the American Birding Association and the Audubon Society. Contact him at 6413 Stonewall, Greenville, TX 75402, or e-mail bosieb(at)geusnet.com.
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