The Ones You Won't Get to Eat

Read their stories. And then tomorrow, if you're tempted to eat the flesh on the table in front of you, ask yourself, "Who was that animal? What was his story? And in what ways did he suffer day after day? What were his final moments like? Did he struggle? Did he fight to live?" Ask yourself, "Were his suffering and death really necessary? Are intentionally inflicted pain, fear, and death really something I am thankful for, something I want to celebrate?" Give thanks tomorrow not for the dead birds on tables all across the nation, but for the realization that you have other options.

Melvin, of Peaceful Prairie Sanctuary (extracted directly from "Sun Day"):

As Melvin, George, Stanley, Alfred, Elmer and Archie became progressively crippled, their genetically manipulated bodies growing around them like tumors, engulfing them in their grip, crushing themselves under their own weight, suffocating, choking, destroying themselves in the name of our "turkey dinners", their ability to participate in life diminished and, with it, so did their openness to its gifts. Their daily cavalcades into the open fields became slower and slower, shorter and shorter, fewer and fewer, and then, eventually, not at all: George, Stanley, Alfred, Elmer and Archie died one by one, and, with each of them, a whole world of consciousness, memories, yearnings, everything each of them knew and remembered ceased to exist with him, the face of each, the scent of his body, his enthusiasm, his intelligence was gone with him.

After each loss, Melvin's own light dimmed, as if disconnected from a power source. And, as the burden of sorrows, ailments and age accumulated, it took him longer and longer to return to bold, brilliant, demanding life.

But he always did. He lifted himself from sadnesses that grew deeper and deeper with each new loss, and he embarked again on his long, burning journeys all the way from his barn to the trailer, where the visitors were, and resumed the bruising, exhilarating toil of following them around, wheezing and coughing, his lungs and heart barely keeping up with his giant body, his legs deformed under its weight. He dragged himself back to the world he loved – improbable and sublime, like a house on legs, like a ship on dry sand – and savored each of its dwindling gifts: straw-scented shade, sweet grass and cracked corn, Shylo's friendship, Chris' voice, Michele's presence, visitors he had charmed, and visitors he had yet to enchant. And he loved life with all her faults, and forgave her many trespasses.

Then, one day, he did not. When Shylo, his last remaining friend died, he isolated himself in the back of the barn and refused to leave. Morning after morning, the gates would fling open and everyone would rush out to greet the day, but Melvin did not. He remained rooted in the same dark spot and refused to leave. He did not move, he did not turn, he did not look away from the wall. [Read the rest for the incredible part, for the details of Melvin's Sundays.]

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Learn about Naddy, Wishbone (right), and other turkeys from Pasado's Safe Haven:

When is the last time you spotted a “stray turkey”? Probably never. But that was the report Pasado’s received from a local family when they asked us to pick up the errant foul in their backyard. The more likely story was that the friendly boy was purchased in Spring at a local feed store, with the intention of having a fresh bird for the holidays. Once sufficiently fattened, he could be “dispatched” “sacrificed” or even the friendly sounding “euthanized” and proudly served-up to friends and family. There is only one problem (and the reason we answer a lot of these calls about "stray turkeys" this time of year - every year!) - people get to know these amazingly, personable creatures, and fall in love! They just CAN'T DO IT!

For anyone with a heart (and a few kids in the family who are followed everywhere by the new pet - truly, they're just like dogs), once you have spent time caring for and feeding these wonderful creatures, the idea of slaughtering them becomes an anathema. In all likelihood, Wishbone’s family probably could not face this inevitability and called Pasado’s to step in.

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Thomas Edison, of Happy Trails (story extracted directly from "Celebrate A Compassionate Thanksgiving In Honor Of Thomas Edison" [PDF]):

Thomas Edison weighed over 40 lbs., and at feeding time, he would get up on terribly swollen legs and toes and hurry as best as he could over to greet his servant. As Thomas Edison continued to grow, his individual toes became even more painfully and grotesquely swollen, red and inflamed. The vet affirmed our suspicions that nothing could be done to correct this condition. When the scientists who created these beings manipulated them to grow larger, they conveniently neglected to consider what the turkeys needed to stand on.

One day I even discovered Thomas Edison laying upside down, struggling to breathe. He was so heavy that after he lost his balance and fell over, he didn’t have the strength to right himself. He was extremely stressed and frightened.

As Thomas Edison began to spend more and time sitting on the ground, unable to move around comfortably, he began to lose the feathers from his stomach. His skin that he constantly sat on began to get sores. Finally we noticed that his breathing was starting to become more labored. His heart that held nothing but love for his human and feathered companions was starting to give out. He was getting very little oxygen with such poor circulation, and during his last days, he began to pant and sometimes gasp for air. He could no longer reach around to his back to preen the casings off his new feathers that were now poking out. We all loved Thomas Edison. He would let me pet the top of his lumpy head as I would marvel at the beautiful colors that he would turn as his moods would change. Blues usually meant that he was calm and cool. Reds and purples meant that something was up. What we didn’t love was the way he had to struggle to walk, struggle to stand up, topple over and lose his balance, and struggle to breathe normally.

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Read United Poultry Concerns' general info on the experiences of turkeys.