Thanksgiving For Turkeys by Sara Wright

Where are they, my feathered iridescent turkey friends one of which is usually at my doorstep by dawn (I call them in as I write these words – an hour later only four show up – something has gone amiss). Wild turkeys live in this small sanctuary all year long, coming and going with the seasons. I normally feed them during the winter months, but this year has been thin, so I have been supplementing their diet.

 Yesterday I watched them trudge up the hill, twittering and chirping, their feet sinking into eleven inches of snow. It’s only December 2^nd and with the drought seeds and insects have been scarce. Snow makes ground feeding inaccessible.

I have learned so much about how to live in genuine community from years spent observing and interacting with turkeys. I have three groups in all, and this time of the year males and females come separately.

Mostly I just love these wild birds who have befriended me to the point where I can work outdoors while they are sunning themselves on the hill or pecking leaves and detritus after seeding. They respond to my greetings with friendly little chirps, twitters, and a number of other sounds I can’t describe, but conversation between us is ongoing.

Even more intriguing is the relationship that they have developed with my Chihuahua, who is by nature a Watcher. Perhaps that’s why when eight-month-old Coalie decides to chase them, they don’t go far. The protector of the covey keeps a sharp eye on my dog, but trust is the norm.

Every year before thanksgiving I can feel myself cringe when I think of these gentle creatures being hunted though wild meat is no longer safe to eat. A week ago, the stores with ripe with carcasses ready for roasting for the great thanksgiving gorge.  

It must be said that I do not celebrate American holidays because all are devoid of meaning for me. I observe and participate in the Great Round that occurs with the changing seasons, so my time of thanksgiving occurs during the time of Nature’s greatest abundance in August and September, and not when nature appears bleak and dead. I also remember that my grandmother died the dawn after thanksgiving in a hospital alone, so even before I knew about what celebrating this holiday meant it was dead for me.

 Thanksgiving is also a Day of Mourning for Indigenous peoples who shared so generously with the struggling colonists, only to be murdered, poisoned, and herded like cattle onto reservations where they remain to this day. 500 years later amends have yet to be made.

I think it is ironic that thanksgiving celebrates gluttony with turkeys as the centerpiece. This holiday (even the meaning is distorted – ‘holy – days’ they are not with the exception of a few ) also ushers in the next season of more greed and gluttony as the stores become packed with sardines. Even those who are christians might take a moment to reflect upon why there is so much emphasis on accumulating more stuff at this time of supposed giving.  Collective Guilt is in full swing.

My protest manifests as a boycott on all purchases until January. Like my friend Rupert Sheldrake I prefer to give experiences to others in the place of gifts at any time of year.

Now that the reader thinks that I am puffed up like one of those giant plastic snowman, let me puncture your balloon.

Although I am not much of a meat eater turkey is my favorite animal protein, and the only time of the year I can be sure to buy a turkey is at this juncture, the first bridge to christmas greed.

Every year while buying a turkey I am feeling miserable because I am about to consume one of my favorite animal kin. What I didn’t realize for so long was that owning this contradictory behavior eventually helped me understand that buying a carcass to eat helped me to feel such deep gratitude not just for turkeys but for the gift of all food on a level I normally can’t access for most of the year. Grocery stores are full of all kinds of carcasses, animals and plants that are cut away from their own roots. Just as I have been by the convenience of modern culture.

  For example, during the time of summer abundance when I pick a sprig of basil that I have grown I am aware of what I am doing and am able to give thanks knowing that the cutting away brings pain to the plant and yet tis plant is freely offering a gift for me. Gardening is such an important way to stay attached to one’s food on some level, although in our ego driven culture the emphasis is on health of the individual and not gratitude for the gift of life.

This year something astonishing happened that has intensified my gratitude for these birds and for food.

My little dog Coalie is a picky eater and ever since I have had her I have been struggling to find a food I could rely on for protein. She has revolted against every dog food I have ever tried. The day I cooked the turkey I noted her sniffing enthusiastically around the kitchen. That night I chopped up little pieces of turkey and gave it to her with sweet potato. To my shock and delight she wolfed down her food and returned for a second dish. I have been feeding her turkey ever since. It has only been about ten days, but she is just as enthusiastic about her meals as she was in the beginning. Yesterday I went shopping and got another turkey to roast and freeze for her initiating a second thanksgiving for the turkeys especially the wild ones who I am convinced somehow were responsible for this gift. Now every single day I am deeply attached on a feeling level gratitude for every turkey on this earth for helping me get Coalie to eat.