A Thanksgiving Story

437 years ago on this day, Meleagris Gallopavo was clucking casually as she made her daily rounds through the eastern deciduous forest known only to her as the Golden Forest. Each morning she would awaken in a tall specimen of Pinus Strobus, shrugging off the nights damp chill, flap her wings and glide from her perch down into the fog filled hollow, to alight on a bed of Kalmia Latifolia leaves. It was from here that she would start her daily routine of preening her copper feathers and preparing herself for the days adventures. On this day, as she softly sailed over the forest floor, she came to a rocky hillock, and perched upon its top, she gazed out at the open sea miles away. Something had caught her eye today...a glowing vessel, rocking on the oceans bosom, and from this vessel smaller vessels approached. She didn't know what to make of these vessels, like bees buzzing in the distant water. She decided she had better consult the white stag, so she took off with a flap of her majestic wings and rushed back into the deep damp woods.

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