SOMEONE SERVE THE TURKEY PLEASE

Susan Michaels, of Pasado's Safe Haven, will serve a turkey for Thanksgiving. In fact, she will be serving several turkeys and plans to stuff them with squash and pumpkin pie.

At this animal sanctuary, where turkeys are served on a perch instead of a plate, the animals, as well as humans, have reason to be thankful, because all of them were rescued from dire circumstances. Wishbone, a dark turkey hen, is thankful, simply, for life. Three years ago, she was discarded like worthless trash by the factory farm where she'd been raised, because she was unable to walk and could not be easily shipped to slaughter.

Factory farms genetically breed and aggressively raise turkeys to grow large amounts of breast meat until they become so top-heavy they can hardly walk, let alone fly, as wild turkeys do. Bubba is another of the lucky turkeys who now resides at Pasado's Safe Haven. His toes were cut off to prevent him from scratching other turkeys and "marring" their meat. Consumers do not like to buy "marred" meat. Workers at the haven are designing a sling for Bubba to rest in until his feet heal. Hopefully, Bubba will, one day, recover enough to strut in true tom fashion and show off his grand plumage, in exchange for Wishbone's admiring blinks.

Related to pheasants, healthy toms are quite magnificent when they fan their tail feathers called retrices, drape their wings, gobble, and tap dance a proud demonstration in their 3500 feather array. The bright blue coloring of the turkey tom head contrasts with the red fleshy area, called a snood, which drapes over the beak and turns a deeper shade of red when the turkey becomes excited. Hens are impressed with these color changes and reply with their own "turk, turk, turk" sound.

Some stories have it that the North American turkey even gets its name from the "turk turk" sound it makes. Other versions claim that it comes from the Native American word, "firkee", or the Indian word, "tuka", when Columbus mistook the land for India.

But I'm sure that, as Wishbone and Bubba snuggle together into their soft, cedar shavings at night, the last thing on their minds is their name origin. Likely they drift off to sleep each night "turking" to each other about the grapes, bananas, and melons they enjoyed that day. Perhaps, in her own turkey way, Wishbone describes Thanksgiving at Pasado's Safe Haven to Bubba. She may tell him how over a hundred people gather in the barn and find seats on bales of hay, joining the animals around a festive spread of potluck veggie dishes.

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