From behind the thick oak, just to the front of the barn, Tom watches as the men shake hands with the Farmer, fold up their papers, and make their way back to the car. With a final wave, they head up the old dirt road, disappearing on the main highway, leaving nothing more than a cloud of dust in their wake. The Farmer, his shoulders in a bit of a sag, remains frozen in place long after they are gone, his gaze unwavering from where the car once was.
Finally, after several more minutes, he picks up his wicker basket, filled with corn and squash freshly picked from the garden just to the side of the barn, and turns toward the house.
“What was that all about?”
Henrietta’s question catches Tom with a start – he thought she was with the rest of the group out behind the garden – and he jumps forward, banging his beak on the tree.
“Sorry...” she says with a chuckling gobble.
“It looks like Farmer has decided to become something called a vegetarian. Which means he’s not having...uh, turkey...uh, one of US...for Thanksgiving dinner this year.”
“Oh my...that’s wonderful news! Isn’t it?”
“I sure think so.”
“So who were those other men?”
“I guess Farmer doesn’t feel right keeping us here, so he’s sending us off to some sort of Turkey paradise run by those men.”
“Turkey paradise!!” Henrietta’s voice jumps a full octave. “Oh my! Where, oh, where is this wonderful place?”
“I’m not sure, but I heard them call it Butterball...”
Finally, after several more minutes, he picks up his wicker basket, filled with corn and squash freshly picked from the garden just to the side of the barn, and turns toward the house.
“What was that all about?”
Henrietta’s question catches Tom with a start – he thought she was with the rest of the group out behind the garden – and he jumps forward, banging his beak on the tree.
“Sorry...” she says with a chuckling gobble.
“It looks like Farmer has decided to become something called a vegetarian. Which means he’s not having...uh, turkey...uh, one of US...for Thanksgiving dinner this year.”
“Oh my...that’s wonderful news! Isn’t it?”
“I sure think so.”
“So who were those other men?”
“I guess Farmer doesn’t feel right keeping us here, so he’s sending us off to some sort of Turkey paradise run by those men.”
“Turkey paradise!!” Henrietta’s voice jumps a full octave. “Oh my! Where, oh, where is this wonderful place?”
“I’m not sure, but I heard them call it Butterball...”
