it is thankful for good meals and a quick death.

I'm pretty sure turkeys would have nothing to say about Thanksgiving, considering that they're incapable of speech and language.

But if we use a little imagination, I'd imagine they're not too happy about the whole Thanksgiving process - being raised on farms until they're much larger than they are in the wild and thus uncomfortable, often in poor conditions. And then there's the matter of being killed, which nothing really likes.

bona petit,

Parable of the benevolent turkey farmer:

On a farm, there was a flock of turkeys. One turkey started talking with another, remarking "How good our farmer has been to us. I think he is an awfully nice man, because he comes every morning to feed us." The other turkey nodded in agreement, adding "and he has been feeding each and everyone of us here every day like clockwork, every day without fail since we were all just little baby hatchlings." Indeed, when queried, most of the other turkeys gobbled in agreement about how benevolent their farmer was.

But there was one turkey, intelligent but eccentric, who countered saying "How do you know he is all that good? I remember, not too long ago, that there were some older turkeys who were taken away, and I haven't seen them since. What ever happened to them?"

Some of the turkeys may have slept a little uneasy that night, but in the morning the farmer came as usual, this time scattering even more corn around. The turkeys ate this with gusto, and this dispelled any remaining doubts about the benevolence of the farmer. "You see, there is nothing to worry about. Our farmer had a little extra food, so he gave it to us because he likes us! He is a good man," remarked one turkey to the others, and they all nodded in agreement, all of them, that is, except one.

The intelligent but eccentric chicken became even more agitated. "He is just fattening us up! We are going to be slaughtered in a weeks time!" he squawked in alarm. But nobody listened. All the other turkeys just thought he was a troublemaker.

A week later, all the turkeys were placed into cages, loaded onto a truck, and driven to the slaughterhouse.

The End

Moral of the story: You cannot always induce the truth from past experience!

(adapted from my story on Russell's chicken.)
duenhsiyen

Gobble-gobble

You mean, "The Killing Season"?

Also known as "The Dark Times" or "The Long Cold Death"?

According to the turkeys' best intelligence reports, the massacres in the North American regions around the same time every twelve months. Turkey government speculation indicates that the genocide may occur as an offering to some kind of god in a large round, boxy black hat with a white stripe and buckle. This god, they call "Pilgrim", apparently demands a feast of turkey flesh, pureed potatoes, and some sort of gelatinous brown substance. This Pilgrim god is a vicious, terrifying deity capable of untold horrors.

The Department of Turkeyland Security has released the following recommendations as precautions against falling victim to the zealot destroyers and their death axes:

1. Eat little during warmer months to stay scrawny. The god, Pilgrim, seems to like fatter turkeys better.

2. If you have any family or relations in Europe, in the dark of night attempt to smuggle your family out of America and stay with those overseas relations. Only pack what you can carry. Never return to the killing lands.

3. Wherever possible, plant newspapers around the farm warning of Bird Flu. This seems to cause fear in the destroyers.

4. When all else fails, beak! Beak like crazy! Beak you bastards!

http://blogs.menupages.com/southflorida/turkey.jpg

how is babby formed? how girl get pragnent?

Gobble! Gobble! Gobble it up! Peace!