HOW THE TURKEY GOT HIS GOBBLE

(from the St Just So Stories, by Rudyard Kipper)

Featured in Sid Kipper's show Christmas Cod Pieces

A long time ago, oh best belovéd - when the world was young and the Broads were narrow - there was a big, sad bird called the turkey.  He was called the turkey because he came from the South of America - which is just below where the Indians come from, and just above where the penguins are wrapped.  He was sad because, although he was a big bird and a feathery bird, and although he lived in the county of Norfolk (where men were men, and women wished they weren't), he didn't have a mating call.

He could whistle like a blackbird, but he was too big for that.  He could roar like a lion, but he was too beaky for that.  He could sing like a whale, but he was too dry for that.  And one day, oh best bewildered, he stood amidst the reeds and grasses of the great, grey, greasy river Stiff, and he felt the mating season come upon him.  So he waggled his wattle and he opened his beak to call for a mate.  First he whistled like a blackbird, but that only attracted female blackbirds.  Then he roared like a lion, but that only attracted lionesses.  Then he sang like a whale, but that only attracted a lot of whalermen.  And no matter what he did, oh best bedevilled, he couldn't attract what he wanted.  He couldn't attract female turkeys.

So the turkey went to see the very wise and wisdommed old owl.  The owl had a call of his own - to whit, that is to say, a hoot.  "Give me your hoot", said the turkey, "so that I may have a voice of my own and call for a mate".  But the owl was too old and too wisdommed for that.  "Oh, terrible turkey", he said, "that cannot be, for it is the owl that hoots for a mate, just as it is the pigeon that coos for a mate, and the rabbit that seems to manage fine without any sort of a call whatsoever."

"Then tell me, Oh owlish one", said the turkey, "if the pigeon coos and the rabbit seems to manage fine without any sort of a call whatsoever, then what is it that the turkey does?"  "The turkey", said the wise and wisdommed old owl, "seems to me to be doomed to do without".

And the turkey, oh best befuddled, was most terrible angry.  And he stamped his foot.  And he stiffened his feathers.  And he threw back his head and he let out a great wail of frustration.

But just then, oh best bereaved, a bumbling bee was flying overhead.  And the bumbling bee, as you know, was a great thinker.  Just at that moment he was thinking about flying.  He thought, and he thought, and he thought that really, all things considered, it shouldn't be possible for bumbling bees to fly.  And he lost faith in himself, and he fell from the sky - straight into the turkeys mouth, and onto his tonsils.  And the turkey, oh best bedraggled, began to gobble.  It tried to blow the bumbling bee out, but it was too big.  It tried to swallow the bumbling bee in, but it was too small.  And the turkey looked around for help and he saw lots and lots of female turkeys, come to see who could be making such a racket.

And from that day to this, oh best beheaded, the turkey has gobbled, the female turkeys have come to see, and the bumbling bee has decided that thinking is not all it's cracked up to be!

Copyright Chris Sugden