I live in a part of the Northeast that is a favorite of many critters including turkeys. Ironically this past week I had several turkey sightings. It was as if they knew Thanksgiving was on the calendar. They are strange birds, a bit arrogant and at the same time oddly clumsy. Tall, giraffe like necks, and bulbous lower bodies, they scurry across roads and congregate on front lawns as if on a mission or on the way to a meeting.
American history recounts our forefathers sitting down with native Indians and sharing a table laden with food. Likely some of these birds relatives were served up along with other tasty morsels. The picture is perfect. How realistic is unclear. Those birds surely gave their captors a hard time-they didn't go peacefully to the table, and the Indians too must have had their suspicions of the white man. Rightly so as it turned out.
One thing I am grateful for, among the many, is that someone of those early settlers or Indians wanted to say thank you. If only for one day, to take the time to give back, to play it forward. My wealth is measured, not by money but by the people I love and who love me back. Thank you.
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