Trask Avenue

My name is Liberty and thanks to a bit of serendipity I am now a celebrity and, more importantly, here to tell you about it. Along with a spotlight hogging gobbler named Peace I was “pardoned” by President Obama yesterday. This means neither one of us will become the centerpiece of some family’s Thanksgiving meal. Not only that we’re going on a whirlwind publicity tour which culminates in Mount Vernon on January 6. I’m told once it’s all done we will live permanently at Mount Vernon in a custom-made pen, forever spared the fate of becoming a something people munch on while watching football.

While I do feel lucky this whole pardoning business confuses me. I’m not sure what exactly I did that required pardoning. Is simply being a turkey enough to have your life cut dramatically short? If that’s the case I’m going to campaign really hard to come back next time as Larry King. The idea of an outrageously long life suddenly holds enormous appeal.

I tried asking Peace about the pardon, but fame seems to have gone straight to his bobbing head. I can’t even talk to him without first going through his publicist. Can you imagine that? A turkey with a publicist. Just when you thought you’ve seen it all.

Maybe I was pardoned because someone thought I was a criminal with a chance at rehabilitation and pardoning was the first step. Maybe, but I kind of doubt it. I’m pretty honest. I’ve never carjacked anyone. I’ve never embezzled or cheated on my taxes. I certainly don’t knowingly deal in illegal substances, although I’ve heard whispers around the farm about my bulk. Apparently, 45 pounds is pretty stocky for one of our kind. The letters PGH (Poultry Growth Hormones) get tossed around a lot. Hey, I can’t help it if I come from a family of physically imposing turkeys. Not only am I big boned, I also work out like a fiend. So yes, I may weigh 45 pounds, but it’s mostly muscle, baby.

I’m basically good, but not a saint. I know this because saints are dead and thanks to the random whims of the President I am very much alive. I can only think of one time in my life when I skirted the boundaries of unethical behavior. However, it was such a minor offense I hardly think the Executive Branch of the government needed to be called in to clear things up. Plus, I was never caught.

About a month ago I pecked a few extra kernels from my mate Ralph’s feed sack. That’s it. A few extra kernels. He looked the other way to scope out this chick he was obsessed with so I dipped into his food and had a nibble. I know he didn’t miss it. It’s not like he reached the bottom of his portion and cried he was still hungry. As I recall he was so distracted by this floozy that he didn’t even finish his portion. Obviously it wasn’t a big deal at all. Being a mostly decent bird I felt bad at first. But I rationalized that Ralph, like the rest of us, always had plenty to eat. He never wanted for anything, except that bird he never hooked up with. I last saw him the day before I was flown from Minnesota to Washington. He weighed a robust 29.3 pounds. Does that sound like a turkey denied food? I know his exact weight because that’s what the farmer told this harried man who stalked around the enclosure, pointed to Ralph and said, “If you saw my in-laws you’d understand why I need a plump one.”

With the pardon comes guilt, so I’m trying to forget what’s happening in most homes across the country today. Instead, I choose to focus on the positives. I got to fly first class on a plane. I met the President and his family. I’m going to the Smithsonian in the next few days. The weather here in Washington is so much milder than back home. My social calendar over the next month would make George Clooney envious. Yes, it could be far worse. If you don’t believe me just look on your dining room table. And if it happens to be Ralph, please tell him I’m sorry.