Talking turkey sees us all in festive flap!
It was Christmas on the turkey farm, and things were getting tense, Birds were feeling restless They were certainly in
suspense. The word along the grapevine, had confirmed a worrying trend, Their utopian existence, was
about to reach an end. No more foraging in the woodland, nor basking in the sun, Roosting in the treetops —
avian rituals that were fun. Now all the signs were
ominous. Some, beyond the pale, A significantly poignant one, read ‘Christmas turkeys now for sale!’ It might as well have said, ‘The end is nigh. Prepare to meet thy doom!’ It was time for serious action, but they needed elbow room. At critical moments such as this, it’s the strongest who stand tall, Leading by example, often
behind some rallying call. Step to the plate ‘Big Bernard’. A colossus among his peers, Burly, bold and boisterous. He
was a willing cavalier!
Cocksure about his wishbone,
his resolve would never bend, His oratory so uplifting, it made your feathers stand on end. But his ‘Achilles’ heel’ was arrogance. A self-styled, ‘cocky-bird’, It meant opposing voices
were very seldom heard. He quickly called a meeting. A cabal of closest mates, Basically, just sycophants. He wasn’t promoting more
debates. The upshot was a rebellion,
executed this very day. A ‘dandy’ of a plan no doubt,
but to some a bit risqué. It involved a wholesale flock stampede, on monumental lines,
But, the twitching wattles on display, were clearly negative signs. Talk about ‘cold turkey’! The birds were anything but enthused, And ‘Big Bernie’, for all his bluster, found his massive ego bruised! Arguments abounded, ranging from the infirm to obese, Resulting in the censure that,
‘turkeys were never geese’! But, on the premise they might ‘jog-along’, they devised a counter-plot, And soon agreed a compromise. It was called ‘The Turkey Trot’! So successful was the outcome, it inspired a quirky dance, To live on through generations. Tomfoolery at a glance. Folk stepping on the dance floor, flapping their arms around, Imitating ‘gobblers’, while
hopping on the ground. So, as you carve your festive turkey, once again on Christmas Day, Reflect upon ‘the great escape’, and the plucky birds that got away!
les Stafford, Horwich, lancs.