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turkeyMister Franklin, humans call him;
Turkeys call him Gentle Ben.
Lovingly we keep his memory
From our tree or field or fen,
Once our day of thanks ensures
That some of us outlasted yours.
Wild and canny, lithe and limber,
Peaceful as a bird can be,
Perching high in Yankee timber,
We, true Sons of Liberty,
Ne’er forget good Ben’s appeal
That we might grace your own Great Seal.
But it never reached fruition,
Thus it never came to be;
Eagles and a warlike mission,
Longing for hegemony,
And your lust for others’ goods
Left us lone in quiet woods.
Turkey’s now your word for loser;
Like the slave-birds that you eat,
Bred obese, your every boozer
Swells with pride in each defeat,
As silent tears of sympathy
Fall from the eyes of us, still free.

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2 replies to this post
  1. An article on the Drudge Report shows wild turkeys attacking a woman in her truck, then later rushing her front door, and one Tom jumping a woman who was out walking. All this in Brookline, MA, not exactly rural America. Perhaps they recognized these ladies as potential cooks of their slave-bird cousins; or, maybe it's just a seasonal thing. We have had up to fifty turkeys in our front yard at once. One of them chased our eighty pound dog down the driveway. From now on, at least around this time of year, I think we will look the doors.

  2. Delight! Of course it was a domestic model that famously attacked President Nixon in the White House garden, going right for his groin, making the fearful prez back up, flap his arms, cover his cods and make turkeyesque gobble-gobble noises to the delight of the press. Next year, he declared, no turkey photo-op but it was a tradition since Coolidge and his PR-guys over-ruled him! So (no kidding) they doped the turkey on so much valium that it took one look at Nixon and the press corps and dropped dead of an overdose. Either Ralph de Toledano or Stan Evans told me that, accompanied by a side-splitting imitation of Nixon hopping around trying to protect the presidential 'wedding tackle.'

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