Turkey Trauma

I decided, while I had my hand in what was once a turkey's ass, that it is much better that the Bald Eagle is the national symbol. Had Franklin had his way of course, Thanksgiving would have turned out to be a much more anarchic holiday. Imagine the uproar if everyone in the country found themselves with a hand up the ass of the national symbol. To hell with flag burning, turkey tampering would be a treasonable offense. Thankfully the eagle won out. In 1787 the young congress adopted what we now know to be the symbol of the country. A Bald Eagle, wings spread wide with an olive branch in one hand as a symbol of peace and 13 arrows representing the quiver of power the original colonies, now united, could weild. Above his head are 13 stars further reinforcing the unity of the country. And the omnipresent scroll bearing "E Pluribus Unum" meaning 'out of many, one'. While it was a committee of three that brought about this symbol the choice was not unanimous. Franklin thought the eagle a coward, and lazy and certainly nota fitting symbol for the courageous new United States.
Legend has it that the reason the eagle was chosen was because at one of the first battles of the Revolutionary War the firing of canon and musket awoke the birds from their roost and the circled over the heads of the Patriots screeching at the intrusion. Witnesses claim they were proof that God was on the side of the minutemen.
What ever the reason we do not now, in the 21st century, roast an eagle to dine on during the celebration of Thanksgiving. We cook a turkey. Alledgely because it would have been an abundant game bird in New England of the 17th century and therefore certainly had to be at the feast of Thanksgiving. My own belief is that they probably ate more fish than fowl as they were in Plymouth Ma. with Cape Cod Bay behind them chock full of Cod (Hence the name) Bluefish and other fine dining. However, it is the Turkey that has come to grace most tables at this time of year. Clearly it is what binds us as a country and while many different immigrants cook the bird to their own tastes and with their own twists, it is the one thing that truely unites us as a country.
As I pulled my hand out of the Turkey's ass this weekend I knew that there were men and women all across the country trying to maintain the sense of dignity and respect for the occasion while realizing that they did indeed have their hands stuck up the ass of a Turkey.

As a post script...when I was driving back from the site of the first encounter in Eastham Ma I saw a rafter of turkey's feeding on the side of the highway. I guess their internal calendar freed them up and gave them a sense of safety. For at least the next 11 and a half months.