The Two Stupid Turkeys

     Once upon a time, there were two stupid turkeys. They were brothers who both had dreams of one day being on top of the world, famous and powerful. The wise old owl counseled them to forget about their grandiose dreams and live their live like reasonable turkeys for nothing good would come out it but the two turkeys would have none of it. The owl shook his head thus and looked them in the eye, which was no easy feat for he was nocturnal, a creature of the night, and it was morning, the sun bright and shining. With baited breath, the two turkeys waited for what the wise one had to say.

      “Go to the glen at the center of the forest,” he said. “There you will find the tallest and oldest in all of the land. It is a tree imbued with the mystery of the gods themselves. He who can climb to the very top of it, it is said, becomes the king of all animals.”
Filled with delight, the two turkeys hurried to the glen, as fast as their little feet could carry them but try as they might they could not climb the tree for it was very tall and they were very small. They were far too weak, too feeble to even manage a few feet up the tree’s massive trunk. Finally they collapsed on the ground completely exhausted.

     “It is impossible!” each one thought. “The tree is as tall as the mountains themselves. Surely there must be a trick to it. Yes, most assuredly it is not impossible. Difficult but not impossible. But I cannot manage it by myself.”

     And so the two turkeys parted, each one seeking the counsel of a different animal, one the bull for his incredible strength and the other the ant for his ability to accomplish great feats despite his size.

     “What should I do?” the older turkey asked the bull.

     “The answer is simple,” replied the bull. “You need but make yourself stronger. I am what I am because of what I eat and I eat only the freshest of shoots and leaves. And the farmer makes me healthier even by feeding me with rich grain and various supplements. Go to the fields yonder and partake of my dung; they will fill you with vigor and power.”

     The turkey was dubious at first. To eat dung and become stronger? But he could not find fault in the bull’s logic and thus did what the bull had asked. And lo! He had scarcely swallowed the first odious bite that he felt himself energized indeed. He became strong and stronger even and by the time he had taken his fill, he felt like he could carry the weight of world upon his back.

     Encouraged thus, he went back to the tree and proceeded to climb. He made good progress for the vitality of the bull was now coursing through his veins. Finally he reached the summit. He had succeeded in doing what no one else could and was so overjoyed that he flapped his wings and crowed a crow that only an ecstatic turkey could make.

     “Look at me!” he cried. “Behold my splendor and bow before me! I am the king of the forest!”

     Nearby a hunter was seeking game. He heard the turkey’s racket – and oh, what racket he did make! – and came to investigate. He looked up and saw the turkey at the top of the tree. He raised his rifle to his shoulder and pulled the trigger. There was thunder and smoke and foolish turkey was no more.

     Now the younger turkey had sought the counsel of the lowly ant.

     “What should I do?” he asked.

     “The answer is simple,” replied the ant. “I am but a humble creature of the earth. I am very small and insignificant. Alone I would amount to nothing despite my great strength that allows me to carry objects several times my size. But I have many brothers and sisters and together we could do great things. We could move mountains if we wanted to. And that is what you should do.”

    “What? Move mountains?”

     The ant shook his head. “No, you must gather your brethren and get them to help you. They can push you up and make your climb easier.”

     “And how do I do that?”

     “Must I tell you everything?” exclaimed the exasperated ant. “Seek you the nightingale. His charm is most renowned.”

     And so the turkey went to the nightingale and asked him how he might convince the other turkeys to help him.

     “Why, you should sing, of course,” replied the nightingale. “I have many admirers because of my wondrous voice. Bards and poets write songs about me. Come, I will teach you how to sing.”

     And the nightingale began to sing. The forest air was filled with such music that brought tears to the eyes of the bees gathering honey nearby and made them pause.

     The turkey then went to the clearing where his fellow turkeys roosted. He began to sing like the nightingale taught him and the music he made, if such called thus, made the beetles lounging nearby cry and flee for they had not hands to cover their ears. But the other turkeys were impressed. Never in their lives have they heard such an enchanting song and they gathered around the turkey, praising and patting him on the back.

     “Help me up yonder tree, my friends,” the turkey said, “that the whole world may hear me sing. They will be filled with awe by my magnificent voice and all turkeys will be famous and can hold their heads high.”

     All the turkeys cheered. What a marvelous idea!

     They hurried to the tree at the center of the forest and pushed the turkey up. They formed a turkey pyramid by which the turkey finally reached the treetop. He was exhilarated and overjoyed and he flapped his wings and crowed.

     “Look at me!” he cried. “Behold my splendor and bow before me! I am the king of the forest!”

     And he began to sing to the cheers and exultation of his fellow turkeys.

     The hunter, still nearby, looked up to see another turkey at the top of the tree. Counting his lucky stars, he raised his rifle to his shoulder once more and pulled the trigger. There was thunder and there was smoke and the younger turkey was no more.

Lesson of the Tale: Those who reach the top should expect to be shot at whether they reach the top by bullshit or by wit and charm.