My uncle had a turkey farm and he raised them solely for sale at the holidays, fresh to folks in our small town. On those seasonal weekends I would approach the side of the house where all the pens had been built and in between the 2 structures was a huge tree.
The soil below the tree covered in blood drew my attention but then my eyes moved up to the sight of the noisy turkey hanging by it's feet. My uncle grabbed his head and cut it off. The turkey jerked and flapped around for a long time it seemed.
One day to experience the whole operation I trailed after my uncle to the basement of the house where huge tubs of steaming water awaited the headless bird and he was immersed into the hot water. After a few minutes all the feathers were plucked out, the little ones singed off and the nude, pale, headless creature was taken upstairs to my aunt who dressed the remains.
Thinking of the whole operation brings all of my senses to attention especially that of my nose because I can recall the smell of the innards taken out but much worse was the wet turkey feather smell. All of a sudden I'm back in the basement. An odor most fowl.
Today being my day off after three workdays finds me like that turkey hanging from the tree. I have a great many things I should do today but my mind is jerking from one thing to another and I do need to finish something so I'd better stop flapping my wings and get on with it. Besides, my second cup of coffee is gone and that's my limit.
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| Wild turkeys, north rim grand Canyon, Oct 2011 |
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