Chapter 1
White Cedar Days were coming, but Reb didn’t want to have anything to do with them. For the past three years, the gangly turkey and his friends had been forced to participate in the 4th of July turkey races at Powers County Park. To make matters worse, this year the inhabitants of the little Oregon logging town were planning to add two more celebrations to take place the week before Cedar Days. The bigs called these new events the Spirit of the Siskiyou Celebration and Native American Pow Wow. The thought of it was more than Reb could take. Any day now, young bigs living in the small town would come thrashing about the wooded hills southwest of town looking for wild turkeys they could enter in the races.
It was humiliating - not to mention exhausting, to be herded together at a starting line and prodded into flapping, hopping, and running toward a barrel of grain 50 yards across the grass. Reb had tried to persuade his rafter of turkeys to leave the secluded hills – to uproot and move west and deeper into the Siuslaw Mountains where they would be out of easy reach of annoying bigs. But, the bulk of his friends just rolled their eyes, gobbled and walked away.
“You gutless gang of turkeys!” Reb called after them.
Burley Turkey turned with a snarl on his beak and stamped at Reb.
Reb didn’t want a physical encounter with the big bully, so he danced off into the nearby bushes. Burley didn’t follow Reb, but called out, “You’re all mouth, turkey!
That stuck in Reb’s craw, but he was not one for bravado or to challenge so he kept quiet. Burley disappeared.
Chapter 2
So it was, that early one morning in May, Reb determined to strike out on his own. He didn’t say anything to anyone. He just left. Keeping out of sight as best he could, Reb headed north. At first he was tempted to turn around and rejoin the only turkeys he had known. But a persistent voice in his head urged him on. He moved through wooded groves, grassy pastures, around lakes and along rivers eating bugs and seeds along the way. An abundance of mountainous forest allowed him to avoid encounters with bigs. He always worried about wolves, cougars and other natural enemies, but his years as a wild turkey had taught him how to detect the presence of danger and avoid encounters.
Chapter 3
For weeks, Reb continued walking by day and sleeping by night. He traveled north crossing what seemed like hundreds of dangerous roads and highways until he entered Tillamook State Forest. So far he hadn’t encountered any rafters of wild turkeys. For that matter he hadn’t even seen tame ones.
He decided to head east across open fields and sparse woodlands. He began to see evidence that, if he kept going, he would be encountering more and more bigs. He came across barnyards where turkeys were kept in pens and cages. That concerned him and caused him to wonder if he’d made a good decision. Back in Powers, the bigs at least returned the turkeys to the woods after they had had their fun with them.
Chapter 4
In the hills between Forest Grove and Newberg, Reb encountered a rafter of wild turkeys living in a grove of trees that seem to be isolated from the attention of bigs. Eying Reb, turkeys came out of the woods from all directions. He enjoyed being the focus of attention of so many strangers among the crowd that had gathered around him -especially the fine looking lady turkeys among them. The gang back home never showed this much interest in him. He wondered why these would find him to be such an interesting curiosity.
Conley Tykeson told him that they weren’t accustomed to having visitors come by. Slice wanted to know where he came from and why he’d left.
Reb enjoyed their attention. It made him feel important.
“I had my fill of being captured pressed into racing in the big’s silly games … you know … during White Cedar Day Celebration,” Reb said smiling broadly.
“Celebration? They let you go?” Billard Tykeson asked.
“Sure, why not?” Reb quizzed surveying the sea of faces.
“You had to race. And that’s why you left?” Billard asked glancing at Trisha Tykeson.
“Well, this year they were adding the craziness of the Siskiyous and the pow wow. Those were the pair of feathers that broke the donkey’s back.” Reb chuckled with a cocky toss of his head. “So I packed up and headed north and here I am,” he concluded with smile that expressed his growing confidence.
The Tykeson turkeys looked at one another in silence.
Reb wondered what they were going to do. He grinned at the sea of faces.
Finally, Ron Tykeson stepped forward, “You’re welcome here.”
“More than welcome,” Trisha said smoothly.
“Thanks,” Reb said eying the pretty turkey.
Chapter 5
During the days that followed, Reb settled into the routine of the Tykeson Turkey rafter. It was nice to be among friendly fowl and not have to worry about racing. Their weird way of talking took a bit of getting used to, but Reb surmised that he probably sounded a bit funny to them, so he never said anything. They also seemed to be uneasy and disorganized. He liked their laissez-faire attitude, but at the same time it was too chaotic to suit his taste. Nevertheless, he was glad to be among them.
Reb hadn’t paid much attention to the signs posted on trees and stumps throughout the community that read, ‘TD Election – Nov. 9.’
“What does TD stand for?” Reb asked Trisha early one morning.
“Turkey Day,” Trish replied matter-of-factly.
“Elections?”
“Governor”
“Governor?”
“Leader, you know … someone to take over leadership … you know … lead.”
Throughout the day Reb thought about the coming election and being leader of a community of turkeys … being GOVERNOR. His gang of turkeys back in Powers never had a governor … a group of elders, but no governor … maybe it’s the same thing.
“The Powers bunch would never make me an elder,” he said to himself . “Even if I became an elder, they’d just laugh. I wonder. This gang of turkeys certainly needs some leadership … some discipline brought to their routine … organized games maybe. Well, not races, but who can scratch up the most seed, who can fly the farthest, a beauty contest for the ladies … Trisha would win that hands down … maybe even a contest for the best way to store food for the coming winter.
“Do you think I could run for Governor?” Reb asked Trisha later that day.
Trisha hesitated.
Reb was sorry he’d asked her … putting her on the spot and fearful of what she might be thinking. At least she didn’t laugh.“That’d give everyone a great laugh, wouldn’t it?” Reb said attempting to defuse the awkward moment.
“Oh no …” Trisha quickly returned. She paused and added, “You could …”
Reb’s face lit up, “Wow, I think I will. Would you be my campaign manager?”
Trisha hesitated scratching the ground nervously.
“Guess I’m forward,” Reb said. “ Who’s my competition? Do you think I have a chance?”
“Reb …” Trisha said and paused before continuing, “There’s …” She paused again and then said, “As good as anyone.”
“I am too forward,” Reb concluded. “You’ll think about being my campaign manager, won’t you?”
“I don’t think I can do it Reb,” she said softly, “I wouldn’t be good at that sort of thing.”
“At least you’ll vote for me?” Reb said. But by the look on her face, he was sorry he’d asked and with a touch of braggadocio added, “You will … you’ll see.”
Chapter 6
During the next several days, Reb spread the word that he was a candidate for Governor. He was surprised that no one was challenging his candidacy. Both Dillard and Ron were charismatic turkeys. Reb wondered why they didn’t enter the contest.
“I guess I scared them all away,” he mused.
One day his friend Rusty Eagle, on his way to sightseeing and visiting friends along the Columbia River, landed at Tykeson for a short rest.
“You have my vote!” Rusty said adding, “but I’m surprised you’d want to be governor. Seems to be the wrong kind of demands for your personality … but wonders never cease. I’ll drop by on my way home to see how things are going. Good luck.”
Chapter 7
By now, Reb’s campaign was in high gear. Since no one else had announced, there was little reason for him to give speeches or hand out flyers or to do anything for that matter. It appeared to him that he was a shoo-in for the elevated office of Tykeson Governor. Nevertheless, Reb thrived on the attention he got from the Tykeson community. Back in Powers he was little more than a joke to its snobby, uppity citizenry but here in Tykeson his popularity was something to behold. He loved it. With each public encounter, the style of his presentations became bolder and his sense of self-esteem stronger.
He regularly gave speeches from the giant Douglas fir stump in the middle of a clearing.
“Fellow Turkeys (bloooble, blooble)!” he shouted.
“Bloooble, bloooble, bloooble, bloooble,” came the enthusiastic return.
“If I’m elected, there will be a corn cob in every pot” (Bloooble, bloooble, bloooble, bloooble, bloooble and so forth).
“Bloooble, bloooble, bloooble, bloooble, bloooble and so forth” came the response at every promise … at every word.
The mood in Tykeson was electric. Enthusiasm of the citizenry grew with each speech. Reb was ecstatic. He’d been a flea in Powers. Now, the citizens of Tykeson treated him like a hero … no … closer to a god.
Chapter 8
Reb thought that surely Trisha would see him differently now. Certainly, he no longer needed a campaign manager, but he found her attractive and was sure that she might now pay more attention to him … treat him with more warmth … might even let him court her.
“Trisha, it appears that I will be the Governor of Tykeson,” Reb declared to Trisha under the shade of a large oak tree one day two months before the T Day election. “Isn’t it something?”
“You’ve made a splash,” Trisha said matter-of-factly.
Trisha’s coolness stuck in Reb’s craw. Maybe she wasn’t so attractive after all. There are other girl turkeys in Tykeson who would be thrilled to have the Governor come to court them.
His thoughts were interrupted by Trisha’s soft even voice, “Reb, dear fellow, do you know what TD really stands for?”
“You said it stood for Turkey Day Election, didn’t you?”
“Yes, that’s what we call it, but there’s another Turkey Day. It’s not so friendly.”
“Oh?” Reb returned.
“It’s called Thanksgiving Day,” Trisha said, “It happens in November. I should have told you about it from the first, but you … well, I didn’t know you and you seemed to need …”
Reb interrupted, “Thanksgiving Day? That sounds good. What’s so bad about it?”
“It’s not our Thanksgiving Day. It’s the bigs Thanksgiving Day…” she hesitated.
“So… from what I know of them, they ought to be thankful… everyone should.”
“Yes, but you don’t understand… they have a big celebration and on that day they serve turkey at all their dinner tables.”
“What’s wrong with that?” Reb said cheerfully. “It wouldn’t hurt for us to get served… we deserve it. We were almost the national bird… would have been, if Ben had gotten his way.”
“Dear Turk. You’re such a fool. You really don’t understand. Why do you think no one but you is running for governor?”
Reb hesitated. The answer seemed obvious to him. He wondered why Trisha asked the question.
“They didn’t count on a guy like me coming along… maybe?” he resumed.
Trisha emitted a gentle laugh and said, “You are special Reb, a wooly teddy-bear. But, you’re naïve along with being a bit puffed up with self.”
“Wow, that’s direct.” Reb grunted.
“Listen to me funny T, when I say the bigs serve turkey at their celebration, I mean they…” she paused unable to say the word. Then, she blurted it out, “They stuff us, cook us, put us on the dinner table and eat us.”
Reb was stunned. He studied Trisha’s face for a sign of levity.
“Naw … naw, you’re kidding!” he said with a stifled laugh.
“No, really, they do. It started along time ago. It’s become a tradition with them.”
The full force of the reality finally hit. Reb fell silent. He sat down on his haunches to keep from fainting.
“That’s why nobody in running for governor. When the bigs’ turkey roundup comes in early November, everyone at Tykeson wants the lowest profile he can have. That’s why no one wants to be governor.”
Reb’s mind was racing.
“How can this be?” he thought.
“Governor is pretty high profile, don’t you think?” Trisha asked rhetorically.
“I’ll withdraw… tell em … I’ll tell em, I don’t want to be governor now!”
Trisha smiled, “Honey, you were governor the day you announced. They won’t let you withdraw now.”
“I’ll run away!” Reb said desperately.
“You could, but, you’d be one out of one when the hunters come looking. With us you’re one out of many. You’ve a better chance with those odds, don’t you think?”
“But if I’m the Gov… isn’t that still like one out of one?” Reb said dejectedly.
“Yeah, you’re right. That’s why no one else is running for governor,” Trisha said sadly.
“What to do?” Reb mused scratching at a grain of corn nearby.
“One of one ‘running’ or one of one ‘here’. You might as well stay here with us, don’t you think?”
“Oh boy… this isn’t fun anymore.”
“I’m sorry, but you had to know sooner or later,” Trisha said walking away. She turned and added, “between now and hunting days, try to blend in.” She moved toward the supply depot at the edge of the woods.
Reb’s spirits sank. Even Trisha turned her back on him. After nearly being the ‘god’ of Tykeson, he now felt like a hunted turkey and what was worse, he felt alone.
Chapter 9
“Better you than me!” Billard Tykeson said with an irritating gobble when Reb tried to get him to take his place as Governor of Tykeson.
For the next three days Reb paced Tykeson grounds thinking and talking. He pleaded with everyone he saw to de-elect him as governor. Everyone turned a deaf ear to his pleading.
One day about noon, while Reb was sitting on a big pine stump near Cattail Pond, he heard the flapping of wings behind him. The sound was too powerful to be coming from a turkey. It startled him. Do bigs ever have wings? He wondered. He was relieved when he turned to see his friend Rusty Eagle settling on a nearby stump.
“Hey Russ, you scared me!” Reb said and asked dejectedly, “You have a good visit up north?”
“Superior,” Rusty said. “Boy, you look like you swallowed a Russian thistle. What’s eating you?”
“Funny!” Reb retorted sarcastically.
“I say something wrong?”
“Naw… you couldn’t know. ’Eating me’ is what’s sticking in my craw.”
“Okay, let’s have it!” Rusty demanded.
“TD is coming. That means Thanksgiving Day. It also means Turkey Day – not in the good sense of those words. It’s when the bigs round up a gang of us turkeys,” Reb paused to gather courage and continued, “and chop off our heads, stuff us, cooks us and serve us – in the worst sense of that word – and eat us at a giant celebration in November.”
“That is bad,” Rusty commiserated.
“Yeah, bad for me. I’m Governor of Tykeson, which makes me super high profile, when the bigs come looking for their TD dinner. Do they serve eagle too?”
Rusty chuckled, “Naw, they won’t be eating eagle. We’re a protected bird. The bigs passed a law making it a crime to kill an eagle. Pretty nice, huh?” Rusty hopped off his stump and walked the few steps toward Reb. “It’s against their laws even to own an eagle’s feather. How about that?”
“It must be nice!” Reb said sarcastically … and then an idea hit him. “Say, what if the bigs were to think that I was an eagle … they wouldn’t … well, couldn’t serve me, could they?”
Rusty laughed, “No, I guess not. How are you going to pull that off?”
“Loan me one of your feathers. I’ll attach it to my tail … that way I’ll look like an eagle.”
“Of course, why didn’t I think of that!” Rusty said clutching his stomach and falling on the ground in laughter.
“The bigs will fall for it, I know they will.”
“You know you may have something… they can’t own an eagle feather either … so they might leave you alone. Dog gone it… Here take this one!” Rusty said plucking a large wing feather from his right wing and handing it to Reb.
“You’re my pal,” Reb said examining the beautiful feather. “I owe you.”
“Didn’t cost me anything … I’ll grow another one. Hey, I’ve got to get going, I want to get back to Caves before it gets too dark.”
“Thanks Russ. Like I say, you’re my bird.”
Rusty stretched his enormous wings nearly knocking Reb off his stump. “Sorry about that … one of the hazards of being a big bird. I’ll see you next time.”
“Yeah, see you. Thanks again.” Reb said gratefully.
Russ flapped his way into the air, circled twice and headed south.
Reb clutched his eagle feather to his chest and began to waddle toward Tykeson commons.
Chapter 10
It took Reb a couple of days before he had the courage to wear his eagle feather. When he did strut onto Tykeson Commons, the turkeys gathered there looked at him in dismay then began to laugh.
“It’s Governor Eagle!” Conley Tykeson called in a derisive voice.”
Everyone laughed.
Reb wasn’t sure he’d made a good decision letting the others see him in his disguise. He wished he’d kept it hidden … taking his chances when the bigs came hunting next month. On the other hand he needed to get used to acting like an eagle in order to fool them better.
“Reb, you really look stupid wearing that lone eagle feather around!” Ron Tykeson said derisively.
Billard Tykeson joined in, “Yeah … pretending to be an eagle! What a hoot.”
“Of all birds you might have decided to imitate … an eagle?” Millie Tykeson added with a penetrating laugh, “How about an ostrich?”
“Or an owl,” added Penny Tykson.
“How about a hummingbird,” quipped Samuel Tykeson. “You could hover under cover of a plover…” Sam laughed so hard he couldn’t continue.
“A dodo bird is more like it!” Derrick Tykeson chimed.
“An eagle? You’ve got to be kidding!” roared Butch Tykeson.
Reb wanted to crawl into a patch of nearby stinging nettles.
“No!” he said to himself. He knew that, if he had a chance of saving himself being served on TD, he’d have to suffer taunting from the Tykeson turkey rafter.
He hoped that at least Trisha might be kind to him.
“I’m sorry to say it,” Trisha said when he approached her. “They’re right … you do look foolish, but you know something, I’ve been thinking, it might just work. Do you think you could get me an eagle feather?”
Reb stopped short in his tracks. For the first time in days he felt something other than a lonely embarrassment.
“You not teasing me?” he asked tentatively.
“I kinda wish I were. But, when the bigs come a hunting, no one is safe. The luck of the draw determines who gets caught and, well, you know. Could you get one for me?”
Reb warmed up to the idea. “I can try,” he said with a smile.
Reb lived too far away from Rusty to ask for his help, but he had mentioned a group of eagle friends who lived in Halsey Memorial Park a few miles to the west of the Tykeson spread.
Turkeys don’t fly very well, but Reb had incentive to quickly get to and from the eagle’s nest at Halsey. Hopefully, he could fast-talk a friendly eagle out of one feather. Trisha was showing attention and respect for him. If he could get her an eagle feather and she wore it, he wouldn’t be the only laughing stock turkey in Tykeson and, more importantly, if his disguise scheme worked he might save Trisha’s life too and she might let him come a courting.
Chapter 11
“What’s in it for me?” the young Halsey eagle asked after Reb had made his request.
Reb hadn’t thought of that one, but he was accustomed to flying by the seat of his pants. “14 grains of corn,” he blurted out without having the slightest notion of where it was to come from.
“Show me the stuff,” the eagle responded.
“Well, I don’t have it with me but we turkeys live close to the ground. We are great scratchers. I’ll bring em tomorrow.”
“Bring them and you’ll get your feather,” the eaglet grinned.
Reb excitedly headed back to Tykeson.
When he told Trisha that he needed 14 grains of corn to pay for the feather, her face dropped.
“It can’t be that hard! There’s a farm just beyond the woods over there,” he said pointing west.
“It’s not that,” Trisha said dejectedly. “We’ve lots of corn stored in the supply cellar.”
“Well, get me 14 grains and I’ll go get the feather.
“Reb, Reb … don’t you understand? Eagles don’t eat corn… they can’t. Your eagle friend was putting you on … I’m sorry.”
“Are you sure?” Reb asked hopefully.
“I’m sure,” she said gently. “At least you have your feather. Thanks for trying… you’re a sweetheart.”
Reb’s heart skipped a beat, “You’re a sweetheart,” repeated itself in his ears and in his mind throughout the evening.
Chapter 12
The next day Reb gathered 14 kernels of corn from the storage cellar and flapped his way to the Hulsey eagle’s nest. He found Yellow Beak and showed him the corn expecting the tricky eagle to laugh. But Yellow Beak didn’t. Instead he asked if Reb had more corn.
“Not here, but I can get more. Why?” Reb asked, “I thought eagles didn’t eat corn.”
Yellow Beak laughed and said, “We don’t but we know who does and can trade the corn for things we want.”
“I get it,” Reb said gratefully. He gave Yellow Beak 14 kernels of corn for a wing feather.
“Thanks!” he said to Yellow Beak and stared his journey back to Tykeson.
Chapter 13
Reb wasn’t certain that Trisha really meant it when she said she would wear an eagle feather in front of her Tykeson friends and relatives. But, she didn’t disappoint him and the next day the Reb and Trisha walked to the commons together wearing their eagle feathers. Of course, they were teased with laugher and turkey calls.
“Bloooble, bloooble, bloooble”, called the insensitive rafter of turkeys. The sound filled the wood and echoed from the hills, “Bloooble, bloooble, bloooble … Bloooble, bloooble, bloooble.”
Yes, Reb and Trisha continued to be the butt of derision in and around Tykeson, but Thanksgiving Day was rapidly approaching and more and more Tykeson Turkeys were getting the jitters. Only Trisha and Reb seemed to be unbothered by the coming big’s TD. The inhabitants of Tykeson knew that any day now, bigs from nearby villages would come into the forest looking for them and when they found the Tykeson rafter they would capture and haul many of them away and … no Tykeson Turkey wanted to finish the thought.
“How much do you want for your feather?” Conley Tykeson sheepishly asked Reb one afternoon. Other turkeys stood nearby wanting to see how Reb would respond.
“Probably more than you’ve got,” Reb said unable to resist a smug twist.
“I’ll give you two month’s worth of scratching for it,” the humbled turkey persisted glancing at the others.
“It’s our best hope that we’ll not be served,” Trisha said to Conley and the others as she and Reb turned to head for their roosting places.
Conley, Billard, Ron, Millie, Penny and Butch all followed apologizing for being turkey turkeys when Reb and Trisha first appeared each wearing an eagle feather.
It wasn’t long before everyone in the community of Tykeson was pleading with Reb to try to get eagle feathers for them before it was too late.
“You can do it!” Trisha urged. “After all, you are the Governor. It’s your duty.”
“Well, I don’t want to be governor anymore,” Reb said. He paused and looked around him. Yes, they had teased him mercilessly and were even cruel to him and to Trisha, but they had become the only friends he knew. It was hard, but he saw himself in them and their actions… “I have done the same things and worse,” he murmured. The thought of his new community of friends being served on TD tables was beyond his ability to tolerate.
“I’ll need help carrying the corn,” Reb said nudging Ron, Butch, Conley and Billard with his wing feathers.
Chapter 14
The five Tykeson turkeys carried pouches of corn to Hulsey Memorial Park and traded their treasure for enough eagle feathers to supply every turkey in Tykeson. As TD hunt day approached the turkeys of the wild rafter began huddling together in dark corners of the woods in hopes that hunters would pass them by.
“What’s the matter with all of you?” shouted Reb as he strutted into the center of Tykeson commons and onto the big stump where he had made his campaign speeches for governor. Trisha was at his side. From the stump he shouted, “You want to look like a gang of turkeys? No! You’re eagles … act like it!”
“Bloooble, Bloooble,” Billard and the others called as they emerged from the shadows.
“Stop it!” Reb shouted. “Sound like eagles too!” he demanded and let out a chilling eagle screech Rusty eagle had taught him.
Before long the woods were full of the sound of eagles. The next day everyone wondered if the bigs had accidentally bypassed their dwelling area or had taken the cleaver birds for eagles and turned away. The truth of it became known when Penny Tykeson reported that she saw several bigs come to the Tykeson woods, eyed the community of eagles resting there and moved on.
Thanksgiving Day came and went. A census of the Tykeson population was taken and every citizen was declared present and accounted for. A week later the Tykeson Turkeys conducted their own T D celebration. Yellow Beak was invited, but couldn’t come … something about an eagle-a-thon to see who can soar the highest.
Of course, Reb and Trisha were the heroes of the day.
Conley Tykeson spoke from the lectern stump, “Governor Reb!”
Everyone shouted, “Governor Reb!”
Reb took Trisha’s wing and shouted, “I don’t want to be Governor. I just want to live among you, with …” he lifted Trisha’s wing into the air.
“But you are the Governor!” Billard shouted.
“Blooooble, Bloooble, Blooooble,” they shouted and followed it with three eagle screeches.
THE END
- M. Russell Pike ©2010 – See M. Russell Pike’s Bio
… On Saturday, November 20, the Confederated Tribes of Siletz Indians will hold the annual Restoration Pow-Wow at Chinook Winds Casino Resort (take a look at the photo). The free event begins with a grand entry at 6:00 pm and the public is invited.
