A Tall Tale About Pride, Self-Reliance, and the Truth That Catches Every One of Us Eventually:
Out on the rugged outskirts of Ironwood Valley lived a turkey named Tommy āTwo-Stepā Turkey ā a bird so slick, so clever, and so full of himself that if turkeys had LinkedIn, heād have listed āEscape Artistā as his profession.
Tommy didnāt walk ā he strutted.
He didnāt talk ā he boasted.
And he didnāt run ā he performed a legendary zig-zag dance pattern called the Turkey Two-Step, guaranteed (according to him) to confuse hunters, coyotes, and the occasional slow-witted farm cat.
And every year, like clockwork, Tommy survived Thanksgiving.
He dodged nets.
He slipped past traps.
He led farmers on wild goose chases ā which was impressive, since he wasnāt a goose.
He even had a trophy wall of old tools, gloves, and hats from hunters heād outsmarted.
The other turkeys admired him.
Some envied him.
Most simply put up with him.
Because Tommy had one fatal flaw:
He believed he was invincible.
Then there was Old Rufus.
Rufus was the oldest turkey on the farm ā scarred, slow, and wise in that quiet āIāve seen things you donāt want to seeā kind of way.
Every year, around mid-November, Rufus warned the younger turkeys:
āDonāt trust your own feathers too much. Humility saves more lives than speed.ā
Tommy would laugh, flip his tail feathers, and strut away.
āRufus, buddy ā you stick to wisdom, Iāll stick to winning.ā
But this particular year⦠something changed.
The farmer upgraded.
Motion sensors.
Thermal cameras.
Drones.
It looked like Jurassic Park moved into Ironwood Valley.
Tommy laughed at all of it.
āThis little tech wonāt stop me. Iāve got the Two-Step!ā
Rufus shook his head.
āSon, pride makes you blind long before trouble makes you fall.ā
Tommy ignored him again.
Thanksgiving Week arrived.
The sky turned gray.
The wind went cold.
And Tommy felt⦠excited.
āThis is it,ā he said, puffing his chest. āThis year Iāll break my personal record.ā
He waited for nightfall.
Then, as always, he launched into his escape routine:
- two steps left
- spin
- hop
- zig
- zag
- dramatic roll
- sprint through the cornfield
Only this yearā¦
Halfway into his danceā¦Lights snapped on.
Sirens blared.
Floodlamps lit up the entire field like a prison yard.
And before Tommy could execute his signature backflipā¦
the gate slid shut.
He froze. His wings drooped. His heart pounded.
This was not part of the plan.
He turned, ready to sprint toward the backup exit heād mapped out months ago ā only to find the farmer standing there, arms folded, face unreadable.
Tommy gulped.
āUh⦠happy Wednesday?ā
The farmer didnāt respond. He just motioned to Tommyā¦
ā¦and walked him back to the pen.
Tommy trembled.
His brilliant brain was glitching.
Pride was leaking out of him like air from a punctured tire.
But the farmer didnāt grab him.
Didnāt reach for a knife.
Didnāt even look angry.
He simply opened the gate⦠and let Tommy walk back inside.
The other turkeys stared.
Then Rufus stepped forward.
āTommy,ā he said, āyouāve been running from Thanksgiving for years.ā
āYeah⦠and doing a pretty good job,ā Tommy muttered.
Rufus shook his head.
āNo, son. Youāve been running from the truth.ā
Tommy frowned. āWhat truth?ā
āThat you can outsmart a trap. You can outrun danger. You can dodge hunters.
But you cannot outrun the truth of who you really are ā or the consequences of your own pride.ā
Tommy swallowed hard.
āBut⦠he didnāt take me.ā
āHe didnāt need to,ā Rufus said softly. āSometimes the mercy that breaks your pride saves your life more than any escape plan ever could.ā
Tommy stared at the ground.
His Two-Step didnāt save him.
His ego didnāt save him.
His plans didnāt save him.
Grace did.
The farmer chose ham that year.
Not because Tommy outsmarted himā¦
ā¦but because Tommy wasnāt the one the farmer had in mind at all.
Tommy spent that Thanksgiving sitting quietly beside Rufus, feeling the weight of reality:
All his brilliance
All his schemes
All his strategies
All his bragging
ā¦none of it protected him.
What saved him was the mercy he didnāt earn and didnāt expect.
From that day on, Tommy changed.
He still danced⦠but not to escape.
He still strutted⦠but with gratitude, not arrogance.
And he still bragged⦠but only about how he almost died from stupidity, but grace kept him around to tell the tale.
Every turkey in Ironwood Valley remembers what Tommy says now:
āYou can outsmart danger, but you can't outrun truth.ā
āPride blinds, but humility sees.ā
āAnd mercy? Mercy saves turkeys like me.ā