When it comes to our unique holiday of Thanksgiving, I think we all can see past the turkey and trimmings to what it’s all about. Oh, there are some historians who will tell us the Pilgrims really didn’t share a meal with the Indians, and that’s okay, because they got grant money to tell us that. And there are other historians who tell us that the Pilgims and the Indians were pals and split the turkey and dressing. And that’s okay, too. Historians have to eat just like the rest of us.

But to me, that’s immaterial. No matter who came up with the idea, it’s a good idea. At least once a year we need to pause and give thanks in our own way for our blessings.

Of course, those of us who don’t live in the big cities tend to be thankful for different things than those who may live in stuccoed cliff dwellings. We tend to look at the natural blessings more than the manmade ones. We tend to be grateful for the simpler things, like calves in the spring, and how clean they look before they discover mud. 

Folks in Home Country are deeply grateful that tasty rabbits arrive in large litters, and bears don’t. When we think about it, we are thankful that we get eggs from hens and not from rattlesnakes, as checking the rattler house each morning could get ‘way too exciting.

When you consider that porcupines have quills, and deer don’t, it gives us pause for praise, and we’re happy that it’s skunks who carry scent glands and not dairy cattle.

We are thankful, too, that hurricanes and tornadoes only happen in warm weather. It’s bad enough to lose the barn without being chill-factored to death while it’s happening.

Down at the Mule Barn truck stop, Dud said he was thankful turkeys were stupid. When asked why, he said, “Ever look in a turkey’s eyes?  Not only is no one home, but someone shut off the lights somewhere back in the Middle Ages. A turkey has just enough brains to operate his heart and lungs.”

And you’re thankful for that? We asked.

And Dud said “Sure. If turkeys had been given the rudimentary intelligence of an empty clarinet case, we might be forced to eat sheep on Thanksgiving.”