by BobA. Troutt
*****
Giggle’s Holiday Book
The Turkey Shoot
“Boom!” sounded the thunder and flash went the lightning across the sky.
“Did you see that?” asked Jim Turkey as he looked out the window of the turkey barn.
“Boom, boom, boom!” rolled the thunder across the sky, as the lightning flashed.
“It’s really coming down out there,” warned Jim. “That’s the hardest rain I have seen in a while. Do you think they’ll call off the turkey shoot tomorrow?”
“I hope so,” replied Young Turkey. “I sure do dread it.”
All the turkeys in the barn dreaded the turkey shoot. Every year in the little community of Turkey Creek in Gizzard County, the Gizzard County Sportsman Club had their traditional turkey shoot. It was the main attraction in the county, and people from all around would come.
“Hey, Jim,” said Bob Turkey, “do you remember a couple of years ago that guy at the turkey shoot, what was his name? You know the one who almost got away?”
“Are you talking about Tommy Turkey, Bob?” asked Jim.
“Yeah, Tommy. That was his name,” replied Bob. “He didn’t make it did he?”
“Nope!” said Jim.
“There’s a lot of them that don’t make it,” pouted Young. “We’ll probably be lucky if we make it.”
“Yeah,” stated Jim. “There will be many of them that will lose their nerve at the last minute and fly the coop.”
“You know, I thought about that once,” replied Carl Turkey, “but I was too big and fat. I couldn’t get over the fence.”
“Boom!” roared the thunder, and flash stretched the lightning.
“What’s it doing out there now, Jim?” questioned Bob. “Is it still pouring down rain?”
“I’m afraid so,” replied Jim. “It’s going to be a long night.”
“I bet Giblet Creek is flowing over its banks,” cried Young. “I haven’t seen it rain this much in a long time.”
“Do you think they’ll call off the shoot because of the rain?” asked Tommy. “Thanksgiving is in a few days, and you know how they get excited over Thanksgiving.”
“I agree with you, Young,” spoke up Bob. “I sure do dread it worse than anything.”
“Yeah,” said Billy Turkey who had just woke up, “all those people out there looking at you, poking and pointing, laughing and snickering. I had one try to grab my tail feathers.”
“I remember that, Bill,” said Tommy. “They’re animals out there this time of the year. They have no mercy on us.”
“That’s right!” yelled Young. “All they do is think about themselves and what they want. Never what we want or need.”
“Calm down,” warned Jim. “We’re all in this together. We are going to have casualties. Some of us will win and some of us will lose. Remember all those who have gone on before us, those who gave their lives and paved the way.”
“Yeah,” said Bill. “Look where they are now.”
All of a sudden, the turkey barn was filled with, “Boo—hoo, boo—hoo,”
“Ah! Don’t cry, Carl,” comforted Jim.
“But I don’t want to go.”
“Take it like a man!” shouted Bob. “None of us want to go. But that’s the way it is. You’re a turkey and Thanksgiving is in a few days. Surely there could be something we could do,” said Carl. “I feel so helpless.”
Young stood up and started pacing the floor. “Let me put my turkey noodle to work,” he said, “and see what I can come up with.”
As Carl boo-hooed, Jim looked out the window and Young paced the floor.
“Boom, boom, boom!” roared the thunder, as flash went the lightning as it ripped across the sky.
“Ooh—wee, that was close,” shouted Jim. “If that lightning had been a little closer, I would have been a baked turkey.”
“Ah! Boo—hoo,” cried Carl.
“Don’t say things like that,” said Tommy. “All that does is make things worse.”
“Have you come up with anything yet, Young?” asked Bill.
“Well, not really,” replied Young. “But if we turkeys would get together and rehash this thing, maybe we can find a way out.”
“It’s hopeless!” screamed Carl. “We’ll never make it. Oh, oh, oh—meeee. Doomed!”
“Well, I’m going to try to get some more sleep,” spoke up Bill. “It will be daylight soon. I want to be as alert as I can. Carl, why don’t you lie down and get you some rest?” said Bill. “Maybe it will make you feel better.”
“I guess so, if I can go to sleep,” replied Carl. “I am so down and out. I don’t know what to expect tomorrow.”
“Uh, it’s funny the things you think about the last few hours,” said Young. “Why, I remember what my Grandpappy Tom used to tell us when we were coming up.”
“What was that?” asked Jim.
“Pappy Tom told us to always keep our heads up and be proud. Don’t ever stick your neck out for anybody.”
“Sounds like a true soldier,” bragged Bob. “He must have been a good one.”
“Yep, he was,” said Young. “When they took him out, he went out in style.”
“Yeah, but things were different back then,” spoke up Tommy.
“I don’t think so,” said Bob. “When you put your life on the line, you put it out no matter how it is.”
“Hey, guys,” encouraged Jim. “I think the storm is letting up.”
“I believe you’re right, Jim,” agreed Young. “It won’t be long now until the sun will be up.”
“Do you think we ought to wake Bill and Carl?” replied Bob.
“No, let them rest,” said Young. “Maybe it will help them tomorrow.”
Slowly, the long morning hours passed in the turkey barn, Young and the other turkeys sat quietly, thinking to themselves. Each one wanted that special time alone to make any last minute preparations. Jim struggled to keep his eyes open; he watched the dark night sky slip away, as the bright, new, sunny day appeared on the horizon.
“Cock-a-doodle-do,” crowed old Rusty Rooster. “Cock-a-doodle-do!”
Slowly, the turkeys began to stir, stretching and yawning.
“Well, guys, it won’t be long now,” cried Young. “How do you feel, Carl?”
“I’ll be all right,” he replied. “It’s just the pressure. I’ll make it.”
“Good sport,” said Young as he headed over and hugged him. “What about the rest of you?”
“Let’s go for it,” replied Bill. “I’m ready to go all the way.”
Jim interrupted. “Hey, here they come,” he said. “They’ve got the truck.”
As the big old truck backed into the door of the turkey barn, the turkeys slowly loaded themselves on it.
“Let’s move it!” yelled Farmer Johns.
Quickly, the driver cranked up the truck and headed down the road. While on the back of the truck, the turkeys sat quietly with their heads hung down.
“I dread it,” cried Bob.
“Me, too,” replied Tommy.
“Well, we’re going to have to stick together and help each other,” said Young.
“Yeah, we need to watch each other’s back…neck I mean,” warned Jim.
Carl’s eyes began to bead up with tears.
“Carl, keep your chin up,” encouraged Young. “You’re still a young bird. You’ve still got a long way to go yet. It’s big old fat birds like us they’re after.”
“Yeah, Carl, you’re a long way from being a butterball yet.”
It wasn’t long until the truck pulled up at the Gizzard County Sportsman Club. As the turkeys jumped up to their feet, they looked between the slits on the truck.
“Wow, look at the people,” cried Jim.
About that time Farmer Johns and the driver began to unload them.
“We’re on our own,” shouted Jim.
“That’s right,” replied Young. Then
he turned to Carl and placed the tip of his wing under Carl’s beak. “Hold your head up high, Carl.”
Quickly, they unloaded the turkeys off the truck and into a holding pen.
“Look at the people,” repeated Bob. “I have never seen so many.”
“Me either,” replied Tommy.
Bill and Carl never said a word.
“Look at those turkeys,” cried Young. “I have never seen so many. I’m afraid it’s going to get rough.”
“But, guys, we are going to stick together?” said Bob. “Right?”
“Right,” they all agreed.
“Uh—oh, here they come,” screamed Jim. “They’re coming this way.”
Carefully, Farmer Johns and the driver led the turkeys out of the pen into the open field. They lined them all up in a row. Quickly, the announcer’s voice came across the intercom.
“Welcome everyone to the Gizzard County Turkey Shoot. Are we ready over there?” asked the announcer.
The farmers all walked up to the turkey line-up and handed them a water gun and motioned to the announcer that they were ready.
“Bang!” sounded the starter’s gun as the Annual Turkey Shoot began.
Immediately, the turkeys started moving about, shooting each other with their water guns filled with cranberry juice.
“There went one, then another,” shouted the announcer. “I have never seen anything like it,” he cried. “There is cranberry juice everywhere and the turkeys are soaked.”
As the shoot went on, each farmer cheered on their turkeys. Then it finally happened, the last standing turkey and the winner of the shoot was…guess who! Carl Turkey. As everyone cheered, Carl spoke up, “You were right, Young, I kept my head up.”
The announcer walked over and stood beside Carl, as he congratulated Farmer Johns and Carl.
“You’re this year’s winner and I want to present to you a drumstick trophy and a gift certificate to eat at the Turkey Trot Café on Gobble Gobble Ridge.
