Welcome to A View of the Town, the adventures of Dr. Willis Fletcher in a small coastal town in Maine. Offering tidbits of local color and the lay of the land, we now return to Dr. Fletcher and the Thanksgiving of 1921.
This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by dust. You clean. You sweep. You make a fuss, but it's never going to leave you. Dust.
And now on with A View of the Town.
Back in 1921, Thanksgiving was coming and the whole town was rounding up their turkeys and all the fixings to go with it. You know mashed potatoes, green beans, stuffing, dressings, gravy. You name it and someone in town had it.
Now most people got their turkeys from a farmer named Durham Q. Byrd who about two miles south of town. Yes, you read that right. Durham Q. Byrd. And to look at him, you knew it. His waddle was droopy and red from scraping with a straight razor. His eyes slightly bulged. And his stomach jutted out making him look like a stuffed turkey himself. Every year, he would have enough turkeys for the whole county and then some. This particular Thanksgiving almost went turkey-less, due to a loose wooden peg about a half-inch long.
Richie Williams worked for Mr. Byrd for the month of November. His job was simple. Keep the turkeys safe and watch for foxes. Richie was now seventeen years old, but not that bright. He lacked in good old fashioned common sense. Some say his ma had dropped him on his head when he was a baby. Others say his pa had given too much brandy when Richie was teething. Doesn't really matter which. All we know is that night, poor Richie Williams would almost ruin Thanksgiving.
Six days before Thanksgiving and folks would be arriving to place their orders. Often they could pick out their tom and Richie would tag it with Byrd taking the notes, carefully assigning a number to match bird with future owner. On the day before folks would drop by to pick up their main course for their thankful meal, Richie got his first, and I might add, only bright idea. His plan was simple: sharpen the ax (which he did), have a hot lunch down at Pearl's Diner (which he did), and then organize the turkeys in numerical order, making it easier the next morning to find (which he attempted).
Have you ever tried to arrange a rafter of turkeys? Richie tried, but what he didn't realize was that turkeys don't care about the numbers. Or the order of the numbers. Nor did they take to kindly to Richie try to organize them in numerical order. Richie found himself turkey pecked. All over. If you've never had a hundred turkeys surround you with all the same intention, well lucky you as Richie would say as he recalled the tale in the barber shop the next day.
"They came at me from ever direction," said Richie. "There was this one ornery cuss. I called him Old Tom, you know like a tom should be called. But by my recollections he didn't like that name. He charged at me the moment I got half way to the center of the lot. You see they was all in this large fenced in yard on the Byrd farm." Richie tiptoed, like he was making his way through them.
"At first, I thought old Tom as going to just push back towards the gate and out. But he got a few others riled up and they started pecking at my legs. Before I knew what it was all about, they was all over me. I thought turkeys couldn't fly, but they did. Right at me." Richie flailed his arms like he was battling them right then.
"So ran back to the gate as best I could, fighting off them turkeys. I finally made it out, slamming that gate right on Old Tom and his buddies. And got out there. Just as I got a few steps away, I heard something. When I looked back, Old Tom had pushed that pin out and he and his boys, all one hundred, came flocking after me."
As you can imagine, the boys in the barber shop that day knew what really had happened. Richie hadn't pushed the pin in. Mr. Byrd confirmed that. He had seen the whole thing from his kitchen window. Richie simply opened the gate and ran, leaving the gate wide open. As Byrd described it, it looked like a dark feather cloud just flying away. He was so dumbfounded he didn't know what to do.
We do know this, he got most of the turkeys back and his business dropped a little next Thanksgiving, especially when the hunters found out that some of those turkeys had nested in the woods west of town. Many were thankful that hunting season. All thanks to Richie Williams.
Join us again next time, when Dr. Fletcher tells us about Otis Major in the Witch's Woods.
This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by dust. It's true that we come from dust and we return to dust. So are they coming or going under that bed? Dust.
CSM
This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by dust. You clean. You sweep. You make a fuss, but it's never going to leave you. Dust.
And now on with A View of the Town.
Back in 1921, Thanksgiving was coming and the whole town was rounding up their turkeys and all the fixings to go with it. You know mashed potatoes, green beans, stuffing, dressings, gravy. You name it and someone in town had it.
Now most people got their turkeys from a farmer named Durham Q. Byrd who about two miles south of town. Yes, you read that right. Durham Q. Byrd. And to look at him, you knew it. His waddle was droopy and red from scraping with a straight razor. His eyes slightly bulged. And his stomach jutted out making him look like a stuffed turkey himself. Every year, he would have enough turkeys for the whole county and then some. This particular Thanksgiving almost went turkey-less, due to a loose wooden peg about a half-inch long.
Richie Williams worked for Mr. Byrd for the month of November. His job was simple. Keep the turkeys safe and watch for foxes. Richie was now seventeen years old, but not that bright. He lacked in good old fashioned common sense. Some say his ma had dropped him on his head when he was a baby. Others say his pa had given too much brandy when Richie was teething. Doesn't really matter which. All we know is that night, poor Richie Williams would almost ruin Thanksgiving.
Six days before Thanksgiving and folks would be arriving to place their orders. Often they could pick out their tom and Richie would tag it with Byrd taking the notes, carefully assigning a number to match bird with future owner. On the day before folks would drop by to pick up their main course for their thankful meal, Richie got his first, and I might add, only bright idea. His plan was simple: sharpen the ax (which he did), have a hot lunch down at Pearl's Diner (which he did), and then organize the turkeys in numerical order, making it easier the next morning to find (which he attempted).
Have you ever tried to arrange a rafter of turkeys? Richie tried, but what he didn't realize was that turkeys don't care about the numbers. Or the order of the numbers. Nor did they take to kindly to Richie try to organize them in numerical order. Richie found himself turkey pecked. All over. If you've never had a hundred turkeys surround you with all the same intention, well lucky you as Richie would say as he recalled the tale in the barber shop the next day.
"They came at me from ever direction," said Richie. "There was this one ornery cuss. I called him Old Tom, you know like a tom should be called. But by my recollections he didn't like that name. He charged at me the moment I got half way to the center of the lot. You see they was all in this large fenced in yard on the Byrd farm." Richie tiptoed, like he was making his way through them.
"At first, I thought old Tom as going to just push back towards the gate and out. But he got a few others riled up and they started pecking at my legs. Before I knew what it was all about, they was all over me. I thought turkeys couldn't fly, but they did. Right at me." Richie flailed his arms like he was battling them right then.
"So ran back to the gate as best I could, fighting off them turkeys. I finally made it out, slamming that gate right on Old Tom and his buddies. And got out there. Just as I got a few steps away, I heard something. When I looked back, Old Tom had pushed that pin out and he and his boys, all one hundred, came flocking after me."
As you can imagine, the boys in the barber shop that day knew what really had happened. Richie hadn't pushed the pin in. Mr. Byrd confirmed that. He had seen the whole thing from his kitchen window. Richie simply opened the gate and ran, leaving the gate wide open. As Byrd described it, it looked like a dark feather cloud just flying away. He was so dumbfounded he didn't know what to do.
We do know this, he got most of the turkeys back and his business dropped a little next Thanksgiving, especially when the hunters found out that some of those turkeys had nested in the woods west of town. Many were thankful that hunting season. All thanks to Richie Williams.
Join us again next time, when Dr. Fletcher tells us about Otis Major in the Witch's Woods.
This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by dust. It's true that we come from dust and we return to dust. So are they coming or going under that bed? Dust.
CSM
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