By: Brian de León
Springtime brought a hatch in May,
Turkeys, needing warmth all day,
In our home, cozy they lay
But soon needed room to play.
Out they went! To prolonging sunshine,
With the chickens, dog, and the feline.
Feathers replaced down once soft and fine
Their next meal their only dire deadline.
At eventide they roosted in the fowls’ suite
As Night slowly reclaimed time without a cheat. They dwarfed chickens, meaning more room for meat! The toms strutted with all brag and fuss complete.
Now they gobble to herald autumn’s vitality
Which brings family time and conviviality
A heritage to savor in joviality.
Thanks to grandpa’s axe the turkey has finality: It gobbled at others, so now others gobble it!
I live in Bexar County, Texas and raise turkeys each year for Thanksgiving, and I wrote a poem to reflect on my experience. I have raised Broad Breasted Whites and Narragansetts alongside my chickens, guinea fowl, and other critters. I find them to be a lively bunch! And as San Antonio grows around me, they keep me grounded in the rhythms of Creation.
I am very thankful to my grandparents who wanted a life out in the country, I do not have to deal with an HOA, we have our own well water, and we have room to raise animals. Because of the legacy my grandparents wanted to establish, I can now enjoy the benefits of a big city while coming home each night to a taste of country living. I made use of this in high school by raising lambs through the FFA program, but turkeys have a special place in my heart.
This brood, in particular, I have trained well! With a little help of cat food, now they know to follow me around as I do lawn work or clean up the sheds. I am endlessly fascinated with their bare heads of changing colors: blues, reds, and whites – come to think of it, they are a patriotic bunch! And their calls and gobbles are a good addition to the chorus of summer cicadas, rooster crows, and the guinea fowl “buckwheat.” The toms strutting and posturing is really a site to behold. You can see why Ben Franklin called the turkey a “respectable bird” and “a bird of courage” in his letter to his daughter.
Inspiration for my poem really started as I thought upon the interconnectedness between the seasons and the life of the turkey: hatch in spring, growth and maturity in summer, and the culmination of its purpose in autumn. The start of each stanza references the seasons in some way. The seasonality of the world instructs us that there should be seasonality in our life as well: we should expect and want to start new things, work towards their maturity, and decide if our goals have reached completion or if they should be resurrected and grown for another season.
The poem also increases in number of syllables per line, starting with seven in stanza one when the turkeys were chicks and ending with thirteen in the final stanza to represent the turkey’s growing size. At springtime they start oS fitting within my palms and by autumn they soar above my knees when they want to. The last line of the poem breaks the rhyme scheme and established stanza length illustrating the final breaking of the turkey’s life. I view the execution of the turkey in a positive light, and so I wanted this stanza to show heart-warming themes of the holidays.
After all, food sustains life, and what is food if not previous life? Life for life. This is a time where the family gathers, and my sister and cousin can spend time with my grandparents and I as we slaughter the turkey and then defeather it and process it. The title uses the word “herald” which conjures themes of tradition and of exciting news – I think autumn is a time of excitement because holidays, family time, and good food are all right around the corner! The theme of tradition is touched on briefly at the end, with mention of my grandfather and of heritage, a nod to the joy traditions brings us in our modern technological era.
Appreciating family and holidays should be at the top of all of our lists. I have seen firsthand how city living and rapid technological innovations work to deracinate people. A rootedness in our shared American history and culture and a rootedness in our family history and legacy is more than just a good goal to strive for, it is an antidote to the crises of meaning and the deepening and widening of the ‘Slough of Despond’ that seems to entrap more and more people. I know I certainly will appreciate my family and my animals all the more this Thanksgiving.
