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 “Two-Step” Turkey — a bird so slick, so clever, and so full of himself that if turkeys had LinkedIn, he’d have listed “Escape Artist” as his profession. Tommy didn’t walk — he strutted. He didn’t talk — he boasted. And he didn’t run — 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 — which was impressive, since he wasn’t a goose. He even had a trophy wall of old tools, gloves, and hats from hunters he’d 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 — scarred, slow, and wise in that quiet “I’ve seen things you don’t want to see” kind of way. Every year, around mid-November, Rufus warned the younger turkeys: “Don’t trust your own feathers too much. Humility saves more lives than speed.” Tommy would laugh, flip his tail feathers, and strut away. “Rufus, buddy — you stick to wisdom, I’ll stick to winning.” But this particular year… something changed. The farmer upgraded. New fences. New gates. New technology. Motion sensors. Thermal cameras. Drones. It looked like Jurassic Park moved into Ironwood Valley. Tommy laughed at all of it. “This little tech won’t stop me. I’ve got the Two-Step!” Rufus shook his head. “Son, pride makes you blind long before trouble makes you fall.” Tommy ignored him again. Thanksgiving Week arrived. The sky turned gray. The wind went cold. And Tommy felt… excited.

Just a bit of mid-week humor 😭