I’m sure to most the idea of not having turkey as a traditional feast seems strange. And I’ll admit, it is. Up until last year my family always enjoyed the traditional feast of turkey, potatoes, bird gravy, stuffing, casseroles and all the winter weight that came with it. It was tradition that we have had for decades if not longer, a tradition that we no longer practice for reasons I’m sure you will understand.
It all started last November, you see my family did not buy our turkeys. We hunted them ourselves. There is nothing like going out in the woods and waiting quietly for a large feather adorned bird to appear from the trees and thickets, completely unaware of what’s about to happen until the sound of the shot rings out and by then it’s too late. Then bringing it home, preparing it complete with hot water disinfecting and hand plucking each individual fine feather from the bird. And when it’s ready gutting it, preparing it, and finally cooking it for the family meal.
That year my son Hubert had captured and brought home a rather large bird, well over four hundred pounds and quite heavy on the lard. A bit too much in the way of feathers and seasonal display but usable. As usual my beloved wife alongside my elderly mother prepared the bird in the basement butchery and larder.
It’s screams and squawks were so loud that I could hear them through the sound proof basement room all the way in the upstairs kitchen. Now normally that’s no issue, you see we live in a fairly isolated homestead in what you call mountainous western south Carolina. However this feast day there was a bit of a problem.
You see as she was gutting the bird my wife found something that ruined our entire holiday. I heard her heavy footsteps as she walked upstairs, opening the sliding wood door; then in a trembling voice she said “Harold you need to see this.” She held out a shiny metallic blood soaked object in her hand. And I, well I felt my heart fall towards my gut in an instant in horror.
The turkey my boy had brought home had had a little mechanical device by its heart, and inside it was a gps tracker. It blinked rapidly, and likely was sending a signal out at that very moment. We both stared at it, fear filling our very souls. After all we had been hunting and feasting on turkey for many years, and never once had anyone found where we lived. That we even existed. If that were to happen, well I fear the consequences would end in bloodshed and my family might not survive it.
“Burn it Mary. Take that thing deep into the mountains and burn it and the entire bird” I said in a panicked voice. My hair standing on end as I wondered how long it had been sending the signal.
Mary stuttered back “but but Harold, what about your mom and the kids? This turkey is what feeds us for most of the winter each year!”
I grabbed the object from my wife’s crimson coated fur covered hands and shook it before her face “Mary you know what this is! What point is there in having a bird for the feast if it’s the last feast we ever have. You think outsiders will have mercy on our children? Remember what we are Mary.”
At this point I was breathing heavily, so after taking a minute to compose myself I collapsed into a chair, dropping the object on the table I continued; “I’ll talk to Hubert, explain to him that he has to change up birds we hunt for. Our son likely forgot to check for foreign objects. Just burn the bird Mary, somehow we will make it through winter without it.”
My lovely wife with her long brown hair rippling as fear sent shivers across across her body stared at me with fear and acceptance. She knew better than anyone the consequences of us being found.
“Alright Harold, I’ll call my cousins and have them help get rid of it. But what if we get caught?”
I looked at her, my teeth cutting into my hairy lower lip “Copy that one tape, you know the one? After all they never believed it was real then, I highly doubt the birds will accept we exist now.”
My lovely Mary, whom I had been bonded to for little under a century, nodded in agreement before grabbing the metallic object and silently walking downstairs. The next few hours were spent calling in her cousins, and cleaning then moving the bird to a spot high in the mountains. So high that other birds likely would not risk being in such a place on such a cold and snowy night. It’s rather convenient that they are so sensitive to the weather, it makes things like this easier for us.
That night instead of a great feast we had a great bonfire. Burning the cursed turkey while our long coats gleamed in the light of the fire. If any birds saw us, they likely believed themselves high or delusional from the cold.
After all, you and your kind have long convinced yourselves we are myths. Despite countless encounters and sightings it’s simply easier to believe we do not exist. You have even found our ancestors remains, who also partook in the feast so long ago. I understand why you don’t want to believe though, after all to admit you are prey and not top predator would ruffle your feathers far too much.
That winter was harsh, but thankfully deer and berries; as well as a few errant geese, helped us make it through the cold season till spring. That summer we had to be careful, birds get suspicious when too many of their flock go missing. Many a flock combed our mountains this year, but thankfully none found our little homestead. And as it has always been, they eventually got tired and left; our existence safe once more.
Now it’s November again, and this year we do not feast on turkey. It’s too risky, and the fat content has gotten far too high in recent years. Too much fatty tissue is bad for you after all. Instead we have decided to try a new tradition starting this year, a vegan feast.
And that my good veggie bird friend, is why you are here. To be the centerpiece in our delicious feast, now let us begin the preparations.
Oh and don’t scream too loudly, my lovely Mary is pregnant this year; and I’m not nearly as experienced as she with this gutting process. Don’t worry, the rest of your small flock is waiting to join the feast as well. You see my family is growing, and a larger family requires a larger feast. I’m so thankful for your participation in this great centuries old tradition.
Happy Feasting Day.