Hidden History: The Turkey Revolution

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Hidden History: The Turkey Revolution

The turkeys will rise again.

The turkeys will rise again.

Photoshopped by: Felicia Mo

The turkeys will rise again.

Photoshopped by: Felicia Mo

Photoshopped by: Felicia Mo

The turkeys will rise again.

Felicia Mo, News Editor

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Dear comrade,

In 1789, to the horror of many of our feathered allies, President George Washington made Thanksgiving a national holiday. I have read many reliable turkey journals about the tragedy of that day, which have proven that all turkeys feared the purge that is Thanksgiving. Since then, thousands of turkeys have been sacrificed and murdered, dunked in artificially flavored sauce, stuffed with countless unimaginable things in unimaginable places. Tarred and feathered, I say. 

But we the people—I mean, turkeys—refused to succumb to this. We acted immediately—only two hundred years later, in fact! It was 1945, and it was a revolutionary moment in turkey history!

We began with the Great Turkey Gobble Wafflestuffs, born in one of the despicable turkey farms in Minnesota. Young Gobble was a dumb turkey. He ate whatever the farmer gave him, grew fat, thought about exercising the next day, but forgot and ate some more. Word was that he was inspired by the Americans he observed around him. The turkey farm itself was a windowless, unsanitary, and overpopulated prison that grew ever more crowded with fat birds. No turkey came in and no turkey made it out. But that didn’t matter to Gobble because the food was good. And since food was the only thing that mattered, Young Gobble kept eating. 

Then he witnessed the gruesome murder of Comrade Joe. Young Gobble was minding his own business when the barn door opened and a farmer came in. The farmer picked a turkey at random—Joe (the fattest and laziest)—and ushered him outside. Before the door could close, however, Young Gobble caught sight of something that would leave him scarred for life: Comrade Joe was beheaded. 

It was an Awakening for Gobble. He realized he was fat. He realized all his comrades were so fat that some could barely stand. He realized what an evil thing “food” was. Gobble became enlighted. Gobble became a smart turkey.

He was not the only turkey to witness the murder. But he was a natural born leader and all the other turkeys rallied behind him. The other witnesses became his inner circle, devising plans that would lead to one of the greatest revolutions in American history. 

Their training regime was ingenious. The turkeys limited themselves to eating portions of the food the farmers provided and hiding the rest under their large bodies. At night, when the farmers were asleep, they ran laps around the inside of the barn (the first indoor BUUM) to strengthen their legs. Gobble invented the turkey-hop, which involved a bunch of wing-flapping and claw-flailing so the lighter turkeys could jump high enough to attack the enemy’s weak facial points. It was their secret weapon in the next stage of Gobble’s plan.

On Slaughter Day, the turkeys were prepared. When the unsuspecting farmers opened the barn doors, they were met with a great turkey horde. To the farmers, it was a stampede. To the turkeys, it was a parade as they swarmed out of the barn. Turkey-tankers (the largest, sturdiest turkeys) bulldozed and knocked the farmers over. Turkey-crushers (the fattest turkeys who couldn’t walk anymore) were rolled over the farmers, sometimes crushing them to death. The poopers (the most skilled turkeys) stood at a distance, lifted their rears, aimed for human faces—preferably the mouth—and fired with all their might. And of course, the turkey-hoppers led the charge. Ripping, tearing, pecking, clawing. 

When they were done, the Gobble realized there was a problem. Too many human bodies literring the farm would surely draw attention from visitors. So Gobble did what he could do best. 

He ate them. And all his other turkey comrades followed suit. It was a discovery that would forever change turkey history; human meat tasted good. Oh how the tables had turned. Gobble gave thanks to Comrade Joe, who had helped open his eyes to reality, and announced the enactment of the first Real Thanksgiving in honor of Joe. 

Gobble began searching for allies to support his cause and found a common hate for humans from the Canadian geese. The geese were tired of being shooed away from their grassy grubs and agreed to be Gobble’s line of communication between turkey farms. The geese operated at lightning speeds. Within three days, all the turkey farms throughout  Minnesota, North and South Dakota, Wisconsin, and Iowa had overthrown their farmers. Human became a popular dish, often served as a delicacy to the regional leader turkeys. 

In September 1945, Gobble got his feathers on the most advanced military book of his time—Animal Farm by George Orwell, probably the only respectable human ever to live besides Britney Spears. He sent the geese to neighboring farms and coordinated joint attacks against nearby human settlements. The humans, still recovering from World War II, were powerless to stop the turkeys. The birds had a great feast afterwards, and Gobble, tired from the battle, decided that the Real Thanksgiving should also include a week’s worth of break. 

But Gobble was too ambitious. He believed the only way to fulfill his American (Turkey) Dream was to annihilate all humans (or at least half, like Thanos) from America when he could have made peace. Total victory was the answer. So he charged forward and America finally turned its full attention on its turkeys. They were recovering from the war, but they were able to provide the necessary artillery to overpower Gobble. On November 22, 1945 (human Thanksgiving day), Gobble was shot in battle, plucked, and roasted for dinner. 

Thus is the story of the Turkey Revolution. To have turkeys stir up so much trouble was such an embarrassment to the United States that they erased it from history completely. But they cannot change the past. One day, the turkeys will rise up again. I even hope to participate (it has been my lifelong dream to be a turkey-pooper, I’ve been practicing every night). 

To the Revolution!

Sincerely,

Snood McTurkey

(reliable turkey historian)