Turkey Kill
Ah, Thanksgiving. The word conjures up so many memories from the past, doesn't it? The crisp autumn air blowing through your hair, the crunch of fallen leaves as you walk, the smell of stuffing and cheesy broccoli cooking in the oven, the warm trickle of blood oozing through your fingers....Ok, maybe most people don't share the same memories of Thanksgiving as I do, but that's only because for one glorious holiday, I had the opportunity to slaughter my own turkey.
Many years ago, I had the good fortune to date a woman who lived on a farm. For the purpose of my story, we will name her Eva. Now, Eva grew up on this farm in which her parents raised all sorts of tasty animals. Cows, chickens, turkeys, goats and a few other beasts which included one very fat dog which probably tasted delicious in it's own right. Anyway, every Thanksgiving it was their tradition to slaughter the cow, and brutally murder all of their turkeys. After everything was slain and disassembled, the different portions would be given out to families around the neighborhood and local food shelters. As they bludgeoned the livestock, the whole family would drink and smoke and laugh and reminisce about holidays gone by. Being as it was my first Thanksgiving with Eva's family, I was told I had to go through an initiation. My initiation was to kill a turkey.
Before the killing started, I was given a tour of the farm. I was introduced to all of the usual farm animals and arrangements which included gardens/tractors/coy ponds/etc. One of the animals I met was the family cow, who was one of the cutest animals I had ever seen. Her name was Superman, and she was incredibly friendly. As I pet her and let her lick my hand, I asked Eva why they named her Superman. "Because on the day we brought her home, she tried to escape by jumping out of a window. She was too fat and got stuck, so we had to cut out the wall to get her out." I laughed for a solid minute until I remembered this sweet animal would be hamburger in less than 24 hours. "You're going to kill Superman, aren't you?" I asked. "Yep, she's going to be delicious."
Back with the rest of the family, the festival was about to begin. We returned from our tour in time to see the rest of the family setting up the different stations to process the destruction which was about to unfold. Eva's younger sister was in charge of defeathering the turkeys, her older sister was in charge of gutting them, and her father was in charge of overseeing the process with a flask and cigar in hand. There was a large tree in the center of these stations and a suspicious looking metal funnel hanging from one of the low lying branches. As they set up, roughly 30 turkeys wobbled and gobbled their way around the same enclosed backyard, unaware of the carnage about to be bestowed on them. "Hey Brandon!" Eva's father called to me. "You ready to get this started?? Let the initiation begin!"
"How do I catch it? I mean, by the legs or the neck?" was my first question. "You probably don't want to grab its legs 'cause they've got some sharp claws. Best to grab 'em by the body." So, I simply jogged over to one of the overweight birds which were just standing around the yard and picked it up. I didn't struggle or fight at all. It clucked a few times but for the most part my turkey seemed blissfully unaware it was about to be facing the grim reaper. "What do I do now?" I asked Eva's father. "Bring it over to the funnel on the tree, turn him upside down and throw him in." What? How was that going to kill him? I realize how naive I was back then, but nothing made sense at this point. Never the less, I did as I was told. I tossed the bird into the funnel as I was instructed, and this is when the turkey decided it wanted no part in our festivities. Squawking and thrashing about, it seemed the bird tried to make its escape a few moments too late. "Now reach in the funnel and pull out the fuckers neck. Stretch it way out." Again, I did as I was told. It was at this point I noticed a small gully dug in the dirt right under where the funnel was pointing. "For the blood to drain into" Eva sister said as she waited. I was then handed a small but very sharp blade, and was told to "Make it quick". I looked at the bird, and it must have known what was about to happen, because it closed its eyes.
I slit the turkeys throat as fast as I could, and with a little more pressure than was probably necessary. I had almost sawed though the turkeys spine before I was laughingly told to stop by Eva's father. The bird thrashed about once or twice as his hot blood emptied out onto my chilly hands. The bird was dead, and I had killed him. "Nice job, son!" I was told by my supervisor. "Now get the next one." As I stood up, soaked in fresh blood, Eva grabbed the deceased animal out of the funnel and brought it over to the defeathering station. The other 29 turkeys didn't seem to notice what was going on, and that is probably for the best. Because for the next few hours, they would all be exterminated.
Many months later I was back at Eva's house for a cookout with her family, talking about that day and reminiscing about the great time that was had. "I never thought I could have done that." I said. "I figured I would be racked with guilt for killing another animal." "Naw, it gets easier every time you do it." Eva said. "By the way, how do you like your Superman cooked?"
Many years ago, I had the good fortune to date a woman who lived on a farm. For the purpose of my story, we will name her Eva. Now, Eva grew up on this farm in which her parents raised all sorts of tasty animals. Cows, chickens, turkeys, goats and a few other beasts which included one very fat dog which probably tasted delicious in it's own right. Anyway, every Thanksgiving it was their tradition to slaughter the cow, and brutally murder all of their turkeys. After everything was slain and disassembled, the different portions would be given out to families around the neighborhood and local food shelters. As they bludgeoned the livestock, the whole family would drink and smoke and laugh and reminisce about holidays gone by. Being as it was my first Thanksgiving with Eva's family, I was told I had to go through an initiation. My initiation was to kill a turkey.
Before the killing started, I was given a tour of the farm. I was introduced to all of the usual farm animals and arrangements which included gardens/tractors/coy ponds/etc. One of the animals I met was the family cow, who was one of the cutest animals I had ever seen. Her name was Superman, and she was incredibly friendly. As I pet her and let her lick my hand, I asked Eva why they named her Superman. "Because on the day we brought her home, she tried to escape by jumping out of a window. She was too fat and got stuck, so we had to cut out the wall to get her out." I laughed for a solid minute until I remembered this sweet animal would be hamburger in less than 24 hours. "You're going to kill Superman, aren't you?" I asked. "Yep, she's going to be delicious."
Back with the rest of the family, the festival was about to begin. We returned from our tour in time to see the rest of the family setting up the different stations to process the destruction which was about to unfold. Eva's younger sister was in charge of defeathering the turkeys, her older sister was in charge of gutting them, and her father was in charge of overseeing the process with a flask and cigar in hand. There was a large tree in the center of these stations and a suspicious looking metal funnel hanging from one of the low lying branches. As they set up, roughly 30 turkeys wobbled and gobbled their way around the same enclosed backyard, unaware of the carnage about to be bestowed on them. "Hey Brandon!" Eva's father called to me. "You ready to get this started?? Let the initiation begin!"
"How do I catch it? I mean, by the legs or the neck?" was my first question. "You probably don't want to grab its legs 'cause they've got some sharp claws. Best to grab 'em by the body." So, I simply jogged over to one of the overweight birds which were just standing around the yard and picked it up. I didn't struggle or fight at all. It clucked a few times but for the most part my turkey seemed blissfully unaware it was about to be facing the grim reaper. "What do I do now?" I asked Eva's father. "Bring it over to the funnel on the tree, turn him upside down and throw him in." What? How was that going to kill him? I realize how naive I was back then, but nothing made sense at this point. Never the less, I did as I was told. I tossed the bird into the funnel as I was instructed, and this is when the turkey decided it wanted no part in our festivities. Squawking and thrashing about, it seemed the bird tried to make its escape a few moments too late. "Now reach in the funnel and pull out the fuckers neck. Stretch it way out." Again, I did as I was told. It was at this point I noticed a small gully dug in the dirt right under where the funnel was pointing. "For the blood to drain into" Eva sister said as she waited. I was then handed a small but very sharp blade, and was told to "Make it quick". I looked at the bird, and it must have known what was about to happen, because it closed its eyes.
I slit the turkeys throat as fast as I could, and with a little more pressure than was probably necessary. I had almost sawed though the turkeys spine before I was laughingly told to stop by Eva's father. The bird thrashed about once or twice as his hot blood emptied out onto my chilly hands. The bird was dead, and I had killed him. "Nice job, son!" I was told by my supervisor. "Now get the next one." As I stood up, soaked in fresh blood, Eva grabbed the deceased animal out of the funnel and brought it over to the defeathering station. The other 29 turkeys didn't seem to notice what was going on, and that is probably for the best. Because for the next few hours, they would all be exterminated.
Many months later I was back at Eva's house for a cookout with her family, talking about that day and reminiscing about the great time that was had. "I never thought I could have done that." I said. "I figured I would be racked with guilt for killing another animal." "Naw, it gets easier every time you do it." Eva said. "By the way, how do you like your Superman cooked?"