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"Must be gittin' lazy, to be on their perches so late in the morning," observed Jed. "Ought to have been scratchin' fer a livin' hours ago." "Well, this suits us," answered Whopper. "I'm going to try for the gobbler." "I'll take the one below him," said Snap. "I'll take the hen on the left," came from Giant. "And I'll try for the one on the right," put in Shep. "What will you shoot at, Jed?"
Just as Sue, who happened to be wearing a red dress, came near the yard, a big turkey gobbler, who seemed to be the king of the barnyard, rushed to the gate, managed to push his way through the crack, and, a moment later, was attacking Sue, biting her legs with his strong beak, now pulling at her red dress, and occasionally flying up from the ground trying to strike his claws into her face.
It did look like an injustice of fate, when hunters so keen as they, were compelled to lie quiet, while wild turkeys in hundreds flew over their heads, and although the shiftless one may have exaggerated a little about the king gobbler, Henry saw that many of them were magnificent specimens of their kind. Yet to lie and stir not was the price of life, as they soon saw.
In their domesticated state they lose much of the beauty which they have in the wilderness, as they do their pristine dimensions. Those who have hunted our wild species are likely to remember scenes where in some forest glade they have beheld a gobbler displaying his graces to an admiring harem.
The rink was thronged with Harding girls and Winsted men, and the proprietor could not easily regard himself as a bona fide philanthropist. Georgia Ames, dressed as a huge turkey gobbler, captained the Thanksgiving Dinners, who were gotten up as bunches of celery and mounds of cranberry jelly.
Every turkey fixed its eyes upon the trembling boy, who was beside himself with fear. "What shall we do with him, grandpapa?" asked the gobbler of an ancient bird that could scarcely contain itself and remain on its wishbone. "I cannot think of anything terrible enough, Willie," replied the grandparent.
"Now it chanced that Mr. and Mrs. Gobbler, the first of the Turkey family, chose a certain little grove of trees in which to make their home, and it became known as Turkey Wood. There, in course of time, Mrs. Turkey made her nest on the ground, well hidden among some bushes, and in it laid twelve big eggs. It was the day on which she laid the twelfth big egg that old Mr.
No wonder so many hens wuz in love with him. I could be pop'lar with the women folks, too, ef I wuz ez handsome ez Mr. Gobbler here." They picked and cleaned the turkeys, and then hung the dressed bodies from the boughs of a tree near the hut, where they would be frozen, and thus keep. The hunters returned that afternoon with two deer, and were delighted with Jim and Paul's zeal and success.
"To Wishbone Valley, where you will see the spirits of my ancestors eaten by your family." It was now dusk, and Donald didn't like the idea of going to such a place. He was a brave, courageous boy, on most occasions, but the idea of going to Wishbone Valley when the stars were appearing filled him with a dread that he didn't like to acknowledge even to the ghost of a gobbler.
But he didn't think Nancy Jane had heard him, and nobody, not even Jims, could imagine Aunt Augusta feeding the gobbler. It was always a wonder to him that she ate, herself. It seemed really too human a thing for her to do.
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