Did I ever tell the story about growing up near a small turkey farm? I can’t remember the name (which is bugging me). And I don’t remember how I figured it out, but I discovered that certain noises would cause the turkeys to talk back to me. I loved visiting the turkeys from time to time to talk to them.
Me: High pitched squeaking noises.
Turkeys: Gobble, gobble.
Back and forth we’d go, me squeaking and the turkeys gobbling back. I suppose it was inevitable that I stop eating them.
I recently read about the Farm Sanctuary’s Adopt-A-Turkey project. I know some people will think with all the suffering in the world, it’s silly to give what little we might have to a bunch of turkeys, but if there’s a God he’s paying attention to the care we take of his other creatures.
Here’s the important part, the point I really want to make though: Even if you’re going to have turkey for Thanksgiving, consider doing this. Just because you can’t go all the way and become a vegetarian doesn’t mean you shouldn’t still do what you can. I often get people pointing out, “An animal might have suffered so you can have that cheese,” or one of many other things. “How do you know plants don’t suffer?” We all do the best we can. Just because I can’t eliminate all suffering doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try at all. It’s such a weird argument for not bothering. If you walked by two people drowning and could only save one would you say, “Well, I can’t save them both so I’m not going to even bother saving one.” Every step you take to not hurt a living creature matters.
Who knew these little guys liked pumpkin pie, too??
UPDATE: My sister-in-law Karen Horn just saved the day. The farm I’m remembering was Finello’s Poutry Farm.