Tuesday morning arrived with a chilly November breeze that swept across the countryside, rattling the last golden leaves clinging stubbornly to the trees.
A battered red pickup truck bounced along a winding dirt road, sending little clouds of dust swirling behind its tires. In the back of the truck, nestled among several bales of straw, rode a rather handsome turkey named Tucker.
Tucker was not particularly large, although he was pleasantly plump. His chest was round and covered with soft bronze feathers that shimmered copper and gold whenever the sunlight touched them. His tail was magnificent, a broad fan of richly patterned feathers that he proudly displayed whenever the opportunity presented itself.
And Tucker believed opportunities to display one's magnificent feathers should never be wasted.
Unfortunately, riding in the back of a pickup truck made looking magnificent rather difficult.
Every bump tossed him sideways. Every turn threatened to send him tumbling into the straw, and the cold wind kept ruffling the feathers he had spent nearly an hour arranging that morning.
"Good heavens!" he gobbled as the truck hit another pothole. "Doesn't this fellow know he's transporting someone important?"
Tucker shook himself, straightened his feathers, and lifted his head.
He had been told he was going to a beautiful farmhouse for Thanksgiving dinner.
Not only that, but he was going to be the guest of honor!
Tucker had never been the guest of honor before.
He wasn't entirely certain what the title involved, but he was quite sure it meant something wonderful.
Perhaps there would be speeches.
Perhaps there would be music.
Perhaps someone would present him with a medal.
He rather liked the idea of a medal.
A gold one, naturally.
Just then, the truck turned beneath a weathered wooden sign and rolled into a sprawling farmyard.
Tucker peered over the tailgate.
There was a big red barn with white trim, a weather vane shaped like a rooster perched high upon its roof, and a farmhouse with green shutters and a wide front porch. A wooden fence enclosed a pasture where a brown cow grazed beneath a towering oak tree.
Several chickens scratched in the dirt, a little white lamb nibbled at some hay, and a rather round pink pig lounged contentedly beside a muddy puddle.
Tucker nodded approvingly.
"Well! This looks quite respectable."
The truck came to a stop.
The farmer climbed out, stretched his back, and walked around to lower the tailgate.
"Here we are, fella," he said cheerfully. "Your new home."
Tucker stood tall and spread his magnificent tail.
"Splendid! I trust my accommodations are ready?"
The farmer chuckled as he lifted Tucker from the truck.
"You're a fine-lookin' turkey, that's for sure. Gonna be the guest of honor come Thanksgiving."
Tucker nearly burst with pride.
"You hear that?" he gobbled to no one in particular. "Guest of honor!"
The farmer carried him through the gate and gently placed him on the ground.
"Now, you make yourself comfortable. We've got a couple days before the big celebration."
Tucker gave his feathers a satisfied shake.
"Two whole days to prepare! How thoughtful!"
He watched the farmer return to his truck, then turned to inspect his surroundings.
"Well," he announced, puffing out his chest, "I suppose I should introduce myself to the other guests."
With his head held high and his tail feathers swaying proudly behind him, Tucker began his grand tour of the barnyard.
His first encounter was with the pig.
The pig was lying comfortably in a patch of mud, enjoying a particularly satisfying afternoon of doing absolutely nothing.
"Good afternoon!" Tucker called.
The pig opened one eye.
"Huh?"
"Tucker's the name. Tucker the Turkey."
The pig blinked.
"Well, howdy, Tucker. I'm Percy."
"Delighted, Percy. Absolutely delighted."
Percy sat up a little.
"Where'd you come from?"
"Oh, the farmer brought me here this morning. I've been invited to Thanksgiving dinner."
Percy's ears twitched.
"Thanksgiving dinner?"
"Indeed!"
Tucker stood a little taller.
"As the guest of honor, no less."
Percy's mouth dropped open.
"Guest of honor?"
"Precisely."
The pig scrambled to his feet.
"Now, Tucker, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but I think you've got things a little mixed up."
Tucker frowned.
"Mixed up? Whatever do you mean?"
Percy glanced toward the farmhouse, then lowered his voice.
"Tucker, the farmer didn't bring you here to eat Thanksgiving dinner."
Tucker looked puzzled.
"He didn't?"
"No."
Percy swallowed.
"He brought you here because you ARE Thanksgiving dinner!"
For a moment, Tucker simply stared.
Then he threw back his head and laughed.
"GOBBLE-GOBBLE-GOBBLE! Oh, Percy, what a ridiculous thing to say!"
"I'm serious!"
"Nonsense! Why, I thought we were having HAM!"
Percy's little pink ears shot straight up.
"H-H-HAM?"
"Certainly! With potatoes, gravy, and all the trimmings!"
Percy's eyes grew as round as saucers.
"HAM?!"
His knees began to wobble.
His curly tail went perfectly straight.
"Not... ham..."
And with one tremendous—
THUD!
Percy toppled backward into the mud, all four hooves pointing straight toward the sky.
Tucker leaped aside as a great splash of muddy water flew past him.
"Good heavens!"
He looked down at the unconscious pig.
"Well, that's a rather dramatic reaction to a perfectly ordinary dinner!"
Tucker shook a speck of mud from his feathers.
"Some animals simply have no manners."
And with that, he continued his tour.
Near the big oak tree, Buttercup the cow was peacefully chewing a mouthful of sweet hay.
"Good afternoon, madam!" Tucker called.
Buttercup looked up.
"Why, hello there. You must be new."
"Tucker the Turkey, at your service."
"Well, welcome to the farm, Tucker. I'm Buttercup."
"A pleasure, Buttercup. I understand there's to be a rather grand celebration on Thursday."
Buttercup nodded.
"Thanksgiving."
"Exactly! And I am the guest of honor."
Buttercup stopped chewing.
Her ears drooped.
"Oh, dear."
Tucker tilted his head.
"Is something wrong?"
"Oh, Tucker, honey. Hasn't anybody explained Thanksgiving to you?"
"Of course! It's a wonderful holiday with delicious food, family, and festivities."
"Well, yes, but there's something you ought to know."
Buttercup leaned closer.
"People usually eat turkey on Thanksgiving."
Tucker chuckled.
"Oh, you must be mistaken."
"I'm afraid not, dear."
"Really, Buttercup! Aren't we having ROAST BEEF?"
Buttercup froze.
Her big brown eyes widened.
"Roast... beef?"
"Why, yes! Delicious roast beef with carrots and potatoes!"
Buttercup's mouth fell open.
"ROAST BEEF?!"
Her knees knocked together.
Her tail stiffened.
"MOOOOOOOOOO!"
And down she went!
THUMMMMMMP!
Buttercup landed in a great soft mound of hay, sending golden stalks flying in every direction.
Tucker stumbled backward.
"My goodness!"
He glanced toward the pig, whose hooves were still sticking out of the mud.
Then he looked at Buttercup sprawled in the hay.
"That's two!"
He shook his head.
"Perhaps the excitement of Thanksgiving is simply too much for these country folks."
He continued toward the barn.
Standing beside the open barn door was a small white lamb with soft curly wool, delicate pink ears, and the sweetest little face Tucker had ever seen.
"Hello there!" Tucker greeted her.
The lamb looked up nervously.
"H-hello."
"And what might your name be?"
"Daisy."
"Charming name! I'm Tucker. The guest of honor."
Daisy's eyes widened.
"Oh, no."
Tucker sighed.
"Please don't tell me you're going to start acting strangely too."
Daisy took a hesitant step closer.
"Tucker, I heard what Percy and Buttercup said."
"Did you indeed?"
"They were trying to warn you!"
"Warn me? About what?"
"About Thanksgiving dinner!"
Tucker rolled his eyes.
"Oh, for goodness' sake! Don't tell me you're worried about LAMB CHOPS!"
Daisy went perfectly still.
"L-l-lamb chops?"
"Why, certainly! Although I personally prefer corn."
Daisy's little knees began trembling.
"LAMB CHOPS?!"
Her wool seemed to stand on end.
"BAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"
PLOP!
She fell sideways into a little pile of straw.
Tucker stared in disbelief.
First Percy.
Then Buttercup.
And now Daisy!
Three animals, all lying flat on their backs!
Tucker folded his wings across his plump chest.
"Honestly! One would think these animals had never heard of food before!"
Just then, the farmer came walking around the corner of the barn carrying a bucket of feed.
He took one look at Percy lying in the mud.
Then Buttercup in the hay.
Then little Daisy sprawled beside the barn.
He stopped so abruptly that the feed bucket swung against his leg.
"Well, I'll be..."
He set the bucket down.
Slowly, he scratched his head, pushed back his battered hat, and looked from one animal to the next.
"What in tarnation?"
He scratched his head again.
"Is there an epidemic goin' round?"
Tucker waddled over and stood beside him.
"I've been asking myself the very same question!" he gobbled.
The farmer looked down at Tucker.
"Well, at least you're still up and about."
Tucker puffed out his chest.
"Naturally! I have important responsibilities!"
The farmer chuckled.
"Yep. You're gonna be mighty important come Thursday."
Tucker gave a pleased little bow.
"How very kind of you to say so!"
The farmer picked up his bucket and headed toward the barn, still shaking his head.
"Never seen nothin' like it."
As soon as he disappeared, Percy opened one eye.
"Is he gone?"
Buttercup slowly lifted her head.
"I think so."
Daisy struggled to her feet.
"Tucker!" she called. "Please, you have to listen!"
But Tucker was already strutting away.
"Really, everyone! You must stop worrying so much!"
He turned and gave them a magnificent display of his tail feathers.
"You're simply jealous because I'm the guest of honor!"
Percy groaned.
Buttercup sighed.
Daisy shook her little head.
And Tucker spent the rest of Tuesday wandering happily around the farm, imagining all the wonderful things Thanksgiving would bring.
He inspected the farmhouse.
He admired the decorations on the porch.
He watched the farmer's wife carry baskets of groceries inside.
And every time someone mentioned Thanksgiving, Tucker puffed out his chest just a little more.
By the time the sun began sinking behind the bare November trees, the air had grown chilly.
A pale pink glow stretched across the western sky, and the barnyard grew quiet as the animals settled down for the night.
Tucker wandered into the barn.
Inside, the air was warm and smelled of fresh straw, sweet hay, and old wood. A small lantern hanging near the door cast a golden glow across the wooden stalls.
In a cozy corner beneath a little window, Tucker discovered a wonderful pile of clean, golden hay.
"Ahhh!" he sighed. "My sleeping accommodations!"
He circled the pile once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then he settled his pleasantly plump body into the soft hay, arranging his feathers until everything was just right.
He tucked one foot beneath himself.
Then the other.
Finally, he rested his head against his wing.
"Tomorrow," he murmured sleepily, "I shall prepare myself for the grandest dinner of my life."
His eyes slowly closed.
And Tucker began to dream.
He dreamed of a magnificent dining room filled with glowing candles and sparkling crystal glasses.
A long table stretched from one end of the room to the other, covered with snowy white linen and beautiful autumn decorations.
There were golden pumpkins, red and orange leaves, baskets of warm bread, and dishes overflowing with delicious food.
At the very head of the table stood an enormous chair.
A chair with a soft velvet cushion.
A chair reserved especially for Tucker!
And there, waiting beside it, was the farmer himself.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" the farmer announced. "May I present our very special guest of honor..."
Tucker held his breath.
"MR. TUCKER TURKEY!"
The room erupted in applause.
Tucker strutted proudly toward his chair.
Around his neck was a beautiful blue satin bow, and pinned to his chest was a sparkling gold medal.
He climbed onto the velvet cushion and spread his magnificent tail.
"Thank you! Thank you!" he announced. "You're far too kind!"
In his dream, Percy the pig appeared carrying a silver tray piled high with buttery corn.
Buttercup followed with a bowl of mashed potatoes.
And little Daisy brought an enormous pumpkin pie.
Tucker smiled grandly.
"Ah, my dear friends! How thoughtful of you!"
Then the farmer's wife approached carrying the biggest silver platter Tucker had ever seen.
"Something special for our guest of honor!" she announced.
She lifted the lid.
Beneath it was an enormous mountain of golden corn, sprinkled with butter and surrounded by fresh green lettuce.
Tucker nearly swooned with happiness.
"Why, this is absolutely splendid!"
Everyone cheered.
The farmer raised his glass.
"To Tucker!"
"TO TUCKER!" everyone shouted.
Tucker bowed his head graciously.
"Well," he declared, "I must say, being the guest of honor is a truly wonderful experience!"
Back in the quiet barn, the sleeping turkey smiled.
His little feet twitched.
His feathers rustled.
And in a soft, dreamy gobble, he murmured:
"More corn, please..."
Outside, the cold November wind whispered through the trees.
The moon rose above the farmhouse, bathing the barnyard in silvery light.
Percy, Buttercup, and Daisy were all fast asleep.
And Tucker, dreaming of medals, applause, and mountains of buttery corn, slept more peacefully than he ever had in his life.
He had no idea that tomorrow afternoon, everything would change.
Because sometimes the difference between being invited to dinner and being dinner... is a very sharp ax.