These are Royal Palm turkeys. They have a heritage. They already have their invite to Kate and William’s wedding. Will you be eating any of them for Thanksgiving? Probably not, but they’re gorgeous and very tasty. Interested in a leg? We’ll have some on the farm this time next year. Come and shove some tequila down it’s throat and chop-chop-chop away.
But that’s cruel! Well, not really. They get drunk, have lived a Zsa Zsa Gabor existence, and get chop-chop-choppped away in a matter of seconds. They’re turkeys after all. For some reason, possibly because of their feathers and urge to flock like dinosaurs, they rank very low on the level of animal intelligence for me. I don’t eat cows. I eat pigs seldom. And I only buy free-range poultry. Could I chop-chop-chop a turkey’s head off – one that I’ve raised? I don’t know. But I’d sure be willing to try.
In my mind, it’s better to see a turkey go the humane way rather than face the wrath of a slaughter house. Eat hormones. And live in confined spaces. Every one loves a shot of liquor – no matter your species – and we’re all going to die sooner or later. Some, like Beth March, like to die at home. And some enjoy being stuffed with cornbread and figs.
Happy Thanksgiving from everyone at Orchard House – Andrew and Don, Auggie, Wally, and Bob Evans, Jack and Ms. Kitty, Catnip and Cantaloup, Chompers and Mustafa, Lady Bird, Mamie Eishenhower, Hillary, and Frances, and Lady Diana, the Princess Royale, Young Victoria, and the Duchess of Gloucester.