Let The Feathers Fly (A Thanksgiving Tale)

“...and it has been announced that the National Thanksgiving Turkey Presentation will take place at Flying Pan Park, where the President will be presented with this year’s turkey, only this year, he plans on eating it. In other news...”

Monte’s head shot up at the announcement. Our farm, he thought, that can’t be right. Monte could see the farm owner and his wife sitting on the veranda of their farmhouse, listening to the radio transmission also.
“Did ya hear that, Mary? The President is gonna come here and pick himself a turkey for Thanksgiving.”
“Yeah, I heard. I guess we better spruce the joint up a bit.” Mary replied.
“It’s a fine day for us, a fine day indeed!”
Upon hearing this, Monte raced across the farmyard to inform the turkeys of the impending doom of one of their own.

“Are you absolutely certain that’s what was said?”
Monte had called the turkeys together to inform them of the news. Mr. C, the patriarch figure of the gang that had been locked in this enclosure for the past few years, had called for a meeting of the senior birds, to try and hatch a plan.
“Okay, here’s the deal. We have given in to the humans for too long now – the time for revenge is upon us. We must band together and prevent this injustice.” Turning his attention to Monte, he continued, “Monte, I want you to go out into the paddocks and relate this news to as many animals out there and see if we can’t rustle up some support. Let’s do this!”

Monte was pleased with himself. He knew that calling in on Chuck the Woodpecker first was a great idea. Chuck was more than happy to assist. Monte watched in amazement as six midnight-black ravens rose from the treetops, answering Chuck’s coded call-to-arms. He had also received partisan support from Slithers, the rattlesnake, and his rhumba. Also, he had the word from a bale of box turtles from Florida. What would have been a nightmare getting the turtles from Florida had been made easier by an agreement between the turtles and one of their natural predators, a brood of Harpy Eagles.
All of these creatures would come under the command of General Sam, an ageing, but highly respected, Bald Eagle. He would oversee the whole defence plan and make sure that everyone involved would know their role and perform to the best of their abilities.

“General Sam, Sir, Airborne One reporting in as requested. We have locked sights on the oncoming fleet of vehicles. ETA is fifteen minutes and counting.”
“Thank you Airborne One. Keep us informed of their progress.” General Sam glanced around at the cowering group of turkeys, each one determined but scared.
“Okay, gang, they are almost here. Mr. C, can you and Marion be sure to bring up the rear of the escape group. We will need your size and experience in case those bastards try something sneaky.”
General Sam flew to the top of the enclosure and spread his wings, garnering silence from the rest of the group.
“May Jupiter go with you all.”

Chaos erupted immediately upon the arrival of the Presidential cavalcade. Several of the president’s Secret Service men were seriously injured by Slithers and the other rattlesnakes, who had hidden in the long grass, awaiting their chance to strike. Added to this, the ravens and the eagles had begun dropping large stones and tree limbs onto the entourage, forcing them back towards their vehicles. The farmer was absolutely livid with proceedings and raced into the shed nearby, bringing out shovels, axes and other items which may be used to fend off this massive assault. Secret Service agents revealed their handguns and fired a few warning shots in the air. This seemed to startle the defenders somewhat, and the humans used this chance to make their way toward the gate of the pen, swinging wildly at anything that appeared to get in their way. Several turkeys were lost in this melee, including some of the younger poult who were eager but desperately outmuscled.
But what the humans had not counted on were the box turtles. They were lined immediately in front of the gates. On the command of General Sam, their heads and necks were replaced with cannons - which had been affixed earlier in the day – and began firing off explosive rounds at the encroaching forces. Although the explosions weren’t large enough to do any major damage, the shock and awe was enough to drive the humans back again.

With the humans receding to a safe distance, one lone turtle made his way to the other side of the enclosure. He had been assigned the job of firing into the fences, to make a hole large enough for the turkeys to make a break for freedom. The eagles and ravens had resumed their aerial attack, keeping the men locked down around their vehicles. The turtle was young and idealistic, his head full of bravery and his heart full of passion. He knew that one or two shots weren’t going to open up the gap enough for the turkeys to make their break for freedom, so he took it upon himself to take one for the team. Closing his eyes, he voluntarily created a backfire, sacrificing himself for the good of the many, blowing a hole so large that even the turkeys were amazed, but saddened, by this sudden turn of events.
“Go, go, go, go,” screamed General Sam, urging the turkeys to flee. “Now is your chance. Viva La Resistance!!”

Monte and Slithers had observed all this from a safe distance. Slithers’ family had done their job, preventing the first wave of invaders from entering the turkey compound. As the lone turtle made his brave sacrifice, Monte and Slithers both hung their heads and gave thanks for his gallantry and courage. It wasn’t long until Monte realised the implications of this and said softly, “Excellent!”