I returned to Kagawong with my heart in my throat. Wild turkeys have a funny habit of disappearing around Thanksgiving. But not Thelma and Louise. Not this year. Lo and behold, those two goofy giblets trotted squawking up to the car, looking decidedly plump, tender and delicious, but still in one piece. I got out and Louise was so excited she untied my shoelace.
“What, no Tulip?” Thelma asked, slyly and a tad nervously. I assured the birds they have another week of peace. Our dauntless Viking cat is still exiled in Toronto, helping Carolyn wrap up paperwork on the federal election. Meantime, I haven’t told Thelma and Louise there are Americans on this island, that another Thanksgiving gauntlet looms. In other words, they shouldn’t count their chickens.
Recent Comments