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The Princeton union. [volume] (Princeton, Minn.) 1876-1976, November 24, 1910, Image 6

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THE WIDDER'S
WILD TURKEY.
A Thanksgiving Episode
In the Ozarks.
By ROBERTUS LOVE.
ICopyright, 1310. by American Press Asso
ciation.]
EGINS to 'pear to me," remark
ed Ezry Edwards of Hoop
pole, "that some of us ain't
goin' to have no turk meat for
Thanksgivin' dinner this year. Turk's
goin' to be powerful high, I 'low."
"If it wuzn't for the mean, triflin'
nature o' some folks in this here neck
o' the woods." put in Squire Summers,
Whose name should have been Win
ters on account of his chill attitude
toward things in general, "they'd be
a-plenty o' turk meat all right. If
some o' these here fellers that's alwuz
r*arin' up on their hind heels an' kick
in' 'bout high
prices 'uld jist
turn to an* raise
some turkeys,
they'd be a-plen-
ty for all of us
an' some left
over for the wid-
der."
**YE^S, SHE NEEDS
A MAN."
"It wuz the
widder that I
wuz jist a-think-
in* of when I
spoke up," said
Ezry. "Here
she's had no man
to do for her
these two years,
an' her place is
all run down, an'
she surely needs
a man to keep it
up for her."
"Yes, she needs
a man," said
Squire Summers,
"With the accent on the last word, "but
she don't need no sich ornery little hop
toads as this here neighborhood has
hoppin' around the roads. Wh at she
needs is a man old enough an' well off
enough"here the squire puffed out
his own chest"to keep her sensible
and proper-like."
Squire Summers mounted bis ancient
horse and rode off toward his 400 acre
bottom farm. Ezry Edwards looked
after him with daggers in his eyes.
"The blamed old runt!" he said to
the country storekeeper, Hiram Sam
uels. "I do b'lieve he's runnin' after
the widder himself."
Hiram laughed, a loud ha-ha!
looked quizzically at Ezry.
"Where's your eyes been all this
time, Ez?" asked Hiram. "In the back
o' your head, I reckon. W'y, don't you
know, consarn your picter, that Square
Summers 's been tryin' to annex the
widder ever sence her cow loped into
his back yard an' he brought herthe
widderup before him an' fined her $3
an' costs for trespassin'?"
"I don't quite see," said Ezry, "jist
how a jedge that could do a thing like
that to a pore widder woman would
ever have the nerve toast her to mar
ry him."
"The square's nerve," Hiram return
ed, "is equal to any emergency, spe
cially sence them
eighty acres of
the wldder's jines
his'n. He'd like
to marry them
two farms, an' to
do it he's got to
marry the widder
fust He land's
powerful rich if
somebody would
take holt an' work
it. The square
knows that"
Ezry talked off
down the road to
ward his own
humble bachelor
shanty muttering
to himself.
was just a year or
two older than
the widow, while
Squire Summers
was at least thir
ty years her sen
ior. Ezry had
loved her ten jears before, when she
married Jim Brandon, but he had lack
ed the courage to ask for her in time.
He remained unmarried, working his
eighty acre farm. Since Brandon's
death Ezry had "set his cap" forth
widow, but he thought no one knew it
save himself. In fact, he kept it so
closely to himself that not even the
Widow Brandon knew of his inten
tions. The widow lived alone but foi
her two small children. Ezry had call
ed at her house two or three times,
"jist to ast how the childern is," he
told her. Once he stayed to supper.
The widow's corn bread and sweet
potatoes, with baked pork and apple
pie, still made his mouth water.
"The old runt!" he muttered as he
stepped inside his two room shack and
lit the kitchen stove to cook bis lonely
meal. "I'll cut him out yit! Turkeys?
iW'y, he's got a hunderd o' the finest
irds ever raised in these parts, an'
the stingy old dried up mummy '11 sell
all of 'em in towD an' put the money
in the bank an' make his darters eat
salt pork for Thanksgivin' dinner. All
right, Ezryyou jist git the widder a
turk an* take your Thanksgivin' din
ner along with her an* pop the ques
tion right after dinner."
Having made this high resolve, reg
istered in heaven. Ezry slept well that
THE GOBBLER DKOF-
PED IN A FLUFFY
HEAP
E
^1^
TH
night. Thanksgiving was just one
week off. Ezry made overtures to
Squire Summers for the purchase of a
gobbler, but his rival apparently sus
pected his intentions regarding the dis
position of the bird. He refused to sell
at any price. Ezry tried all the other
neighbors, but was amazed to find that
Squire Summers had bought up their
entire turkey output the week before
and was finishing their fattening so
that he could sell them in the town
market at an increased figure. Turkey
promised to bring 20 cents a pound at
wholesalethe highest ever known in
the Hooppole country.
Returning home, Ezry took down a
rusty old shotgun from its pegs above
his door and inspected the works.
extracted the old load with a cork
screw fitted upon the end of the ram
rod and put in a fresh one. aimed
at a crow in a tree across the road.
The gun was in commission. The
crow was out. Ezry was satisfied.
"They used to be a lot o' wild turks
in these here woods," said Ezry, "but
hes city hunters has scared most of
'em off. But I seen a flock o' seven
yistiddy, an' if I can find one nex'
Wednesday I'll shoot it for the wid-
der."
Ezry laid off from work on Wednes
day and went to the woods early, his
shotgun carefully cleaned and oiled
and a large supply of ammunition for
the old muzzle loader in his possession.
The old time powderhorn swung from
his side. Th shot was in a bag tied
to the horn, and a box of percussion
caps was in bis pocket
Xearly all day, until the sun began
to decline behind the hills, Ezry hunt
ed, but saw no wild turkeys. be
gan to 'low he'd have to wait till
Christmas to get the widder's turk,
when suddenly he
heard tht
bushes at his
right the familiar
call of the big
wild bird which
used to be king of
the Ozarks.
The hunter pull
ed out a whistle-
like a ff a i on
which he could
imitate the call.
He made several
turkey calls and
was rewarded by
seeing a big gob
bler, with the red
dish brown feath
ers peculiar to the
wild turkey, fly
up into a neigh
boring tree.
Ezry, his hand SHE BELIEVED SHE'D
trembling with ALWAYS LIKED HIM
"buck ager" and WELL ENOUGH.
love, sighted his gun at the gobbler,
which sighted him at the same instant
and began to fly swiftly away.
"Sttddy now, Ezry!" he said softly,
and on the instant his hand ceased its
trembling. Ezry took deliberate aim
slightly ahead of the bird and shot
him on the fly. The gobbler dropped
in a fluffy heap. Th shot had decap
itated him.
The triumphant hunter's way home
lay past the widow's house. pick
ed up his bird by the feet and trudged
happily right up to Mrs. Brandon's
door.
"How's the childern, Mis' Brandon?"
he asked. "I've got a little Thanks
givin' present for 'em."
The widow was grateful, but she
"flabbergasted" Ezry, as he told his
wife later, when she informed him that
Squire Summers already had sent her
a fine turkey gobbler and was coming
over with his two daughters to help
her eat it.
Ezry braced up then. looked the
widow squarely in the eye.
"Mis' Brandon," he said, "I worked
all day to git this here critter for you,
an' you're goin' to eat my turkit's
yore turk, tooan' I'm goin' to eat
with you, an' the square an' his dar
ters can eat their own turk. We'll
cook both of 'em up. An'Maryuh
you know the square's orthorized to
issue marriage licenses an' likewise to
perform marriages. Them two gals
can be our witnesses, as the law says
we got to have. Are you willin'?"
"Hang Mr. Edwards' turkey up in
the shed, Johnny," the widow said to
her son, "an' you go along with John
ny, Mirandy."
When the two children were out of
earshot something like a smack was
heard by the two "contracting par-
ties." The widow told Ezry she be
lieved she'd always liked him well
enough, but he'd been so backward.
They say in the Hooppole country
that Squire Summers was so mad he
didn't even offer to kiss the bride. But
that omission merely added to the joy
of the bridegroom.
How to Slaughter Turkeys.
Turkeys are sometimes sent to mar
ket with their plumage on, but they
should not be. A properly prepared
turkey should be slaughtered after the
old formulaas old as the Indians
and set down as follows by the late
Thomas Hazzard, the well known
Rhode Island turkey expert, who was
known as "Shepherd Ton*" for many
years:
"The turkey should be shut up and
kept without food for eighteen hours.
Then suspend the sacred creature from
a pike above carefully by a stout cord
or string tied around both legs and,
holding the head downward, reverent
ly but quickly cut asunder the jugular
vein and just as soon as the breath
leaves pluck off the feathers before the
body gets cold. This done, remove the
crop and entrails without loss of time,
restoring the liver and gizzard when the
latter has been cleansed of its gravel
ly contents and its inside skin. Then
tie a string around both wings and
both legs and hang it up in a cool,
dry place for two or three days."
jTTflBgKTT
By GoodloeTKonMxs
[Copyright, 1910, by American Press Asso
ciation.]
A mawnin*, when de fros' am gleamin' aj
erbout de fiel's,
Befo' de sun come up an' o'dah him to
show his heels.
It's jes' as plain as anything, without a-gittin' dowa
De almynack an' calendar, Thanksgivin's rollin'
roun'.
De cidah press am squeakin',
De nawth win* come a-sneakin'.
An' down behin' de bawn muh man, erbout hii
feedin* wu'k.
Am callin' out, suggesun'-hke, "Heah. tu'key,
tu'key, cu'k!"
"TU'KEY, TU KEY, TU'K!"
A noon de sun am smihn', an* he gleam
erlong de load
A, O* green an* yaller punkins dey
haulm* down de road.
De cawn rows keep a-rusnW. an' de rambo ap
ples fall,
Fo* eb'rybody busy, an' we couldn't pick 'em
all.
De chillun keeps alludin'
To plum an' suet puddin'
Like what dey's useter gittin' long erbout Thanks
givin' day
Ah tell you signs am p'intin' to it comin' long
dis way!
"A MONST'OUS IiOT O* VITTKIiS."
A b'liebe Ah'll git de spices fo* to mek ck
fam'ly cake
An' staht to wo'kin* extry. fo* Ah'll
hab to cook an' bake
A monst'ous lot o' vine's, 'fo' we's all in thank
ful mood,
Bekase each year dere's mo' to feed in dis yere
cullud brood.
We's got to keep Thanksgivin',
Fo* ain't we got a livin',
An' ain't dere alius plenty fo' de ones dat
doesn't shu'k?
Dat's why Ah like to heah muh man call,
"Tu'key, tu'key, tu'kl"
How Many Turkeys Doomed?
What would you say if you should
see a file of turkeys stretching from
San Francisco to New York and from
New York back to Chicago? "Some
turkeys," probably. Well, one of these
professional estimators has figured it
out that the Thanksgiving turkeys to
be consumed this year would make a
line about that long if placed single
file in marching order.
But it is easier to estimate than to
acquire. Six million turkeys is the
estimate made by the statistician who
has imagined this 4,000 mile streak of
strutting gobblers and humbler hens in
line.
Accepting this reasoning as a mimi
mum and supposing that the average
bird weighs nine pounds, it appears
that the people of the United States
will consume 54,000,000 pounds of tur
key this Thanksgiving. Packed in re
frigerator cars, as they are ordinarily
transported, 1,000 birds to the car, this
number of turkeys would make about
6,000 carloads and would require for
their transportation a train forty miles
in length. These many tons of noble
fowls would more than test the carry
ing capacity of all of Uncle Sam's war
ships.
I
A Personal Problem.
The turkey whistled softly and sad
ly "I Would Not Live Alway" as he
gazed solemnly at the calendar and
realized that Thanksgiving day was
almost here.
"Why so thoughtful, Brother Gob-
bler?" inquired the patriarch of the
flock.
"I was just pondering a question
which will be of vital importance in
the hereafter," explained Brother Gob
bler.
"It is always profitable to dwell upon
that time which is inevitable to all of
us, but I trust you distinguish between
simply idle speculation and the elevat
ing contemplation of the essentials,
dear brother," admonished the patri
arch.
"Well, I suppose you would hardly
call It that," replied Brother Gobbler,
reflectively scratching at a retiring
worm. "The fact Is, I was just won
dering which is the most delicious,
white or dark meat,"
WHNCETON UNION: THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 24, 1"1U.
WHY
THANKSGIVING TRAGEDY.
Rostand's "Chantecler" Put Into
Shade by These Four Spasms.
SPASM 1.A farmyard The gobbler has
gathered his family about him and has
announced that the morrow is Thanks
giving and that one of them is In deadly
peril.
THE GOBBLER:
"Dusk is drawing on apace, and unless
our wits
Avert the blow tomorrow one must
die.
The cock's shrill note proclaims each
coming morn
Unto our master's house. To this cock's
sympathies
We must appeal"
SPASM II.The same. The turkey fam
ily visit the cock, led by the gobbler,
who struts into the presence of his host
with great dignity.
THE GOBBLER:
"Honored cock, tomorrow is Thanks
giving, and
I fear that one of us is doomed to die
To satiate the gluttonous proclivities
Our common master and his brood dis
play.
We have observed that at the morn
you daily sound
A clarion note That note tomorrow
Will pronounce our doom. If you will
but neglect
To crow our danger will be past,
And, grateful for your service, we will
fast
The livelong day, and you shall feast
Upon our portion."
THE COCK:
"Shortsighted bird!
Our master has a clock that sounds
the hours
Of day and night upon a deep toned
gong.
My voice no longer rouses him, and I
Am powerless in the premises.
Your offer of reward is worse" than
naught.
For if the master rises not at morn
Pray whence will come the feast you
promise me?'
THE GOBBLER:
'Tis well. We'll stop the clock."
8PASM IILThe farmer's dining room
at 9 o'clock p. m. The turkey family
gather round the ancient clock. The
cock Is an Interested spectator.
THE GOBBLER:
"I will turn back
The hands, and you, my love, bold fast
the pendulum."
THE HEN:
"My lord, the pendulum is still."
OMNES: "And we are safe."
SPASM rv.The farmer's dining room
at midday on Thanksgiving. The fam
ily and a number of friends are seated
around a table groaning beneath its
weight of toothsome viands. The sun
shine streams through the ample win
dow with greater warmth than at morn
ing when it awoke the farmer.
THE FARMER:
"Deacon, please return our thanks."
[The deacon delivers an Invocation.]
"Mariar, pass the turkey."
ik
A Thought For Thanksgiving
shouldn't we be thankful when the fields of every county
In every statethe forty-eitfht---where farmers till the.soil
Have yielded such a liberal f\ll of Nature's welcome bounty,
The wealth of all the commonwealths, the rich reward of toil?
OLD
G TH E DEACON S
THANKSGIVING
llhs Hsvwkms
Copyright. 1910, by American Press Association.
Deacon Bedell was trie cheeriest man
You'd meet with in many a day.
'lowed that the Lord had a pretty good plan
For running the -world, and he'd say
"I'm thankful that things are about as they are
They could be a mighty sight wuss
An* the things we've complained of the loudest so far
Have proved to be blessin's to us."
When others lamented the drought he'd reply,
"It's better than havin* a flood.
An' ought to thank Go -when the weather is dry
That don't have to -waller in mud."
Yet -when it was stormy he'd never complain.
But say with immutable trust,
"The Lord in is goodness has
sent us the rain
lay the discomfortln'
dust."
When adversity smote him it
fell like the dew
O a mountain's imper
vious crest.
For his simple philosophy
held to the view
That everything -worked
for the best.
And for others' misfortunes
he alwa ys could find
Such sweet consolation
to give.
It seemed that he envied the
halt and the blind
The Hves they were des
tined to live.
One day he was caught in a
thrashing machine.
It cost him a leg, but he
said,
"That's gettin' ofr cheaper than some I have seen.
I'm thankful it wasn't head."
And always thereafter he stump ed on a peg
Or patiently -went -with a crutch.
Declaring, "I'm savin' a lot on that leg
socks only cost half as much."
When his end was approaching he said, with a smile.
A they folded his hands on his breast.
"I've -worked pretty hard a consid'able -while.
An' I' thankful to git a good rest."
So he -went through the -world strewing smiles on his wajr
And th neighbors surviving him tell
That, no matter what happened, it seemed every day
Was Thanksgiving for Ezra Bedell.
V"
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