A turkey sat on a barnyard fence singing a sad sad tune "Thanksgiving Day is coming gobble gobble gobble gobble and I know I'll be eaten soon." These are the words to a song I learned in my childhood. I use to watch my grandmother in Gary, Texas kill and dress chickens and then take them into the house and fry them for supper. It was amazing to watch the process by which chickens became supper. I killed and dressed the turkey, which we will have for Thanksgiving, yesterday. My three oldest grandchildren watched the whole process and were not traumatized at all. They did gag a time or two. Joshua plucked some of the feathers from the bird but I did most of it. Joshua began to play with the feet of the turkey which had been earlier extricated from the carcase. He ended up planting them in a mound of dirt as if the rest of the turkey had been buried beneath. It was tedious plucking the bird but gutting it was easy. The job of killing and cleaning a live turkey is not as hard or difficult as I had imagined. I would definitely consider doing this again next year.
Joshua plucking the turkey
I think everyone should have to spend a week on a farm from the 1930's. No electricity, hauling water, bathing in a number 3 wash tub, having to kill and clean your meat for supper, it would make one grateful for Wal-Mart and prosperity. When I went hiking for the first time sleeping on the ground and eating cold food for supper in a drizzling rain made me truly thankful for the luxuries that I take for granted every day. Ruffing it like they did in the 1930's turns "Turkey Day" into "Thanksgiving Day."
We are enjoying the grandkids. Next week is Thanksgiving and I have much for which to be thankful. We are headed back to Hillsboro this afternoon. I plan to preach from Daniel chapter six on Sunday. Tomorrow will be my ninth anniversary at Walnut Street Baptist Church. God bless you.