Monday, November 22, 2010

Back When Nuclear Destruction Was Our Only Worry

When I was a boy, we lived on a turkey ranch out on Lone Star Road just off Hwy 49, ten miles north of Auburn, California. Thousands of turkeys were raised to market there and were shipped all over the western states for Thanksgiving dinners. We had our pick of the best free-range, mostly organic birds.

My Dad and Uncle would have already picked out 2 or 3 turkeys weeks before Thanksgiving. The day before Thanksgiving the final choices were made and Dad would break the turkey's necks, hang them by the feet, cut their throats to bleed them. Then he'd cut off the heads, pull the feathers off, setting the naked birds on the ground. Within minutes, the dead naked headless turkeys would get to their feet, run around and never hit anything. After a time, they'd fall over truly dead.

In the morning, Mom and my Aunts would cook the fresh turkeys that were so large my Dad and Uncle had to lift the birds in and out of the oven that didn't have enough space to close the door so it took extra long to cook. By late afternoon, the house was very hot, very crowded, and smelling very good. Time to eat...

The life of Indigo Red is full of adventure. Tune in next time for the Further Adventures of Indigo Red.

1 comment:

Mike's America said...

It's amazing that a dead bird can run around like that. Good thing one never started running after being put in the oven.