By: Devin Fussa
When the fall season rears its head, the cool air blows and the leaves turn gold. But that breeze can easily turn into a bitter gust, the cold sinking its teeth into the very pores of your skin. The leaves fall from the trees, dead and barren.
Some choose to hide, and some choose to run. Either way, they can never escape the inevitable. The turkeys of America, year after year, live in fear of November’s fourth Thursday. The paranoia begins as soon as Halloween ends and candy goes on sale. Across the country, desperate turkeys begin to worry; many even try to flee to Canada. Unfortunately, few are aware that Canadians, too, celebrate Thanksgiving. “Why can’t they just eat chicken or quail?”, many of turkeys have wondered. For some reason or another, we decided that the ugliest bird tastes the best.
On the eve of Thanksgiving, the chaos is at it’s worst. Frantically running for safety, the gobbling and rusting of wild turkeys can be heard in nearly every forest across North America. Their pattering footsteps echo like thunder, and their eyes dart to and fro at every noise. Each fall of an acorn and each distant call of an owl draws their attention, adrenaline surging through their veins. It’s become a routine process, but one they seem unable to escape.Those who last to see December are considered lucky, counting their blessings for the entirety of the new year.
As unfortunate a day as Thanksgiving is for the turkeys of America, it is a joyful day for the rest of us. If you can, enjoy your holiday, spend time with friends and family, and be thankful you’re not a turkey.