Time to Talk Turkey for the Turkey Digest, by Elke.
Hello to you good people who paid the Olde Fogie Farm a complement by choosing to stay on our farm. As I am one of the more reserved members of the farm, you may have not noticed me, but I, Elke Turkey, did welcome you all in my own way. Sorry I could not write any sooner, you must understand gentle reader; that although the farm becomes quiet in November, I have not felt free to relax until the popular "platter events" slipped past once again. Even if the Olde Fogies assured me that I was an honorary member and would not join them for any dinners, I did not know if I would be able to tell the stories of this past summer as Wootsie Woo tried once again to hog the farm stationary.
While Wootsie may write lusciously in her "pig Latin," about the finer things on the farm- deep down- she enjoys dragging her toenails through the tulips with the rest of us. If she would tell you about the summer, she would describe one or two dainty details in grandiose terms and forget to mention what really happened. Be assured, gentle reader, I will talk turkey about the summer events as that hog - pardon me - sow might not have. I say it is hog-wash to overlook the real luxuries. Moreover, "Miss Piggy" was too busy munching on the chicken chow to notice the exciting developments.
One small event was the egg sitting contest of which I was a reluctant participant and overall winner. Chickens hatch eggs in 21 days, but mine took much longer- too much longer. In fact, nothing happened. I sat and sat, but not a peep came from those eggs. So then I decided to "eggsit" for Mrs. Duck when she went for a daily swim. Sadly, disaster struck when between shifts a calf stepped on the nest of eggs she had laid in the calf hutch. The Olde Fogies felt sorry for me and went to the hatchery and brought back some babies which I gladly adopted. Hence the "eggsitting" contest was won. Then came the word games.
Farmer Biz and all the kids called my new little ones an unlikely name: "goblets." I, in my best turkey talk, repeatedly informed them that young turkeys are not "goblets," they are Poults. (Secretly, I admit that having a family of "goblets" is more comical; but what if Wootsie would snobbishly mention to the "goblets" that they would sit nicely on the table with a delicate white wine sauce?) Biz and the kids persisted in calling them goblets, so they became just that. So I settled into being a Mother and leading my active "goblets" about the pasture. However, there was to be something more of this summer than just the story of how I became a mother.
The big news began to be recorded when ever crafty and promotion minded Biz came up with another feather-brained idea. I like to think that it came about as she watched me handle my little "goblets." I would sing to the little goblets and tell stories as they waited to get wherever it was we were going. It would make the trip easier on the little ones. Little ones are always asking, how much longer until across the barnyard or how much longer it is 'til chore time.
Then one day, an expert from a city recording studio came to the barnyard. Although it was a hot day, he was wearing ear muffs. Moreover, the funny looking ear muffs were attached to wires coming from a big box with shiny knobs and switches that controlled a microphone. As he looked genuinely out of place, Wootsie felt it was her duty to welcome the foreigner to the Farm. The two of them were soon having a conversation in which Wootsie spoke in exaggerated flourishes. As the man listened to her, he watched the box's red lights flash as she really swaggered her voice. Surprisingly, the man liked it and encouraged Wootsie to say more. Soon, all of us animals were nosy and curious about this expert.
By then Biz, who came out to watch the event, asked what all the little lights were about. The expert said that meant that had captured Wootsie's voice. I heard the peacock say, "that ought to stop her gossiping," to which all the animals laughed. Wootsie snorted and the little red lights really lit up. The animals once again laughed.
The expert assured Biz that he now had Wootsie's conversation on some sort of audio tape. And that human youngin's could listen to the tape on long trips to the farm, and that they would hear Wootsie talking and gossiping! (Even snorting!) "Wow," I thought, "Biz is making a tape of stories and songs with some sort of title like Yippie! We're going to the Olde Fogie Farm: are we there yet? Such a tape is perfect for youngin's like my little 'goblets.'" I definitely wanted one, "but wait, Wootsie is once again hogging the stage!" That recording expert needed something better than pretentious grunts, snorts, and squeals. I had to do something. Such a tape for little ones needs something dignified like a fine turkey "cut-cut." I rushed into my changing room and emerged sounding like Julie Andrews, or so the calf said. On that day I became a star, Elke Turkey became a persona, and I found my passion: singing.
Allow me to assure you, that along with Wootsie Woo, myself, there are plenty of other barnyard critters; plus Bizzi tells some stories, talks about the local attractions, things to look forward to seeing on the farm, and she even sings a song or two. I think that someday we shall have to do a duet. Maybe I too can record my own demo tape like Bizzi. Yes, she has a demo tape of special songs that inspire me to stardom. You can purchase both of them for a reasonable price by calling Biz, my future agent.
Some of you gentle readers have already purchased her demo tape, although the second side was empty. I am pleased to announce that she has finished the second side! If you have one of the early tapes, please bring it back and she will fill the second side at no cost!
With all these new stars, the Olde Fogie Farm has become quite renowned. So I must also mention that before the season has even begun, there are so many reservations from fine people like you who cannot wait to stay and hear me sing. Even from here, it looks like I will be singing every weekend, and most weekdays. The Farm will be my stage. If you want to hear me, please make your reservations early. I am looking forward to another sensational year with you. Last year I was a drab turkey, but this year, I will be Elke -- no make that "Marilyn Elke-Roe," maybe even "Elke-a Fitzgerald."