Gobble, Gobble, Gobble

(I wrote this bit before the slaughter of our turkey, Michael, who lived in our back yard. Since I am away from a computer this week and can only type via iPhone, I will share my eulogy for one of the most fierce turkeys of North Portland.)

– – –

I’d never seen a turkey like Michael before. I guess I’d never seen a turkey that close, either. (Especially one named Michael)

That blue and red beard. You used to be the national bird! And then they changed it to the noble Eagle.

Fair enough. Eagles are pretty badass.

Turkeys are not the smartest, or most charming. Then again, neither am I.

But you were Quiet, at first. Not quite big enough to strut. (I guess we’re all this way until we realize what we can do)

And then, one day, you puffed up and out they came.

Along with a strut, came the puffs and Gobbles that made you boss. Protector. Alpha. Defender of your stoop and way of life.

One day I helped clip your wings, but I’d like to think you weren’t planning on leaving, just to see where you could go.
I felt that way too.

So thank you for your life. For giving the neighborhood an image of what a real turkey looks like. For the ‘oohs and ahhs’ from kids and adults alike. I’d like to think you gave them something bigger to think about.

Michael, you were a real turkey.

Even though you were loud and at times obnoxious, you were just being what you were supposed to be.

A real turkey.

Our turkey.


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