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Tale of Turkey Proudfoot

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<h2>XVII</h2><h3>A GAME BIRD</h3> Mr. Grouse moved back and forth upon his log in the clearing in the woods. And casting a withering glance at Turkey Proudfoot, he said, "It's plain that you don't know what a game bird is. Men—and boys, too—come into the woods with guns to hunt us. And we make game of them by rising swiftly with a loud whir and flying off before they have time to shoot us." Turkey Proudfoot gaped at Mr. Grouse. "Don't they ever hit you?" he faltered. "They've never shot me," said Mr. Grouse. "Once a hunter knocked out one of my tail feathers. But that was only an accident." <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus-p80.jpg" width-obs="400" height-obs="620" alt="Turkey Proudfoot Has a Chat with Mr. Grouse" title="Turkey Proudfoot Has a Chat with Mr. Grouse" /> Turkey Proudfoot Has a Chat with Mr. Grouse (Page 80) </div> "I shouldn't care to be a game bird," Turkey Proudfoot remarked. "I'm sure it's much safer living at the farmyard." Mr. Grouse gave him an odd look. One winter when food was scarce in the woods he had flown down to the farmyard. And he remembered seeing turkey feathers scattered about the chopping block near the woodpile. "How do you usually spend the holidays?" he asked. "Last Fourth of July I went up in the haymow and kept out of sight all day," said Turkey Proudfoot. "I don't like firecrackers." Mr. Grouse nodded his head. "I don't blame you for that," he observed. "Firecrackers sound too much like guns.... But I wasn't thinking of the Fourth of July," he went on. "When I asked how you spent the holidays I was thinking more of those to come. Now, Thanksgiving Day isn't a long way off. Have you made any plans for that?" When he mentioned Thanksgiving Day Turkey Proudfoot gave a sudden start. "For goodness' sake, don't speak of that now!" he cried. "I came to the woods to enjoy myself. And now you're trying to spoil my good time." Mr. Grouse could see that Turkey Proudfoot was angry. And being rather peppery himself, he was tempted to say something sharp—something about axes, which are always sharp unless they're dull. But Mr. Grouse managed to control his temper. After all, he thought, it was no wonder that Turkey Proudfoot didn't want to hear about Thanksgiving Day. "Pardon me!" said Mr. Grouse. "I only brought up this matter in a cousinly kind of way." "Cousinly!" cried Turkey Proudfoot. "You and I, sir, are total strangers to each other." "Well, we ought not to be," said Mr. Grouse. "It's time we got acquainted with each other. Didn't you know that your family and mine are related?" "No!" Turkey Proudfoot exclaimed. "No! I never knew it." "It's the truth," Mr. Grouse told him. "Don't you think we look a bit alike, except that my neck is somewhat short, and yours is long and skinny? And of course my head is feathered out, while yours is bald and red." "That will do!" Turkey Proudfoot gobbled angrily. "Even if you are my cousin you needn't make such remarks about me." Mr. Grouse begged his pardon again. "I was only pointing out the differences between us," he explained. "But if they displease you, I'll speak of the ways in which we are alike. Now, take our tails—" "I won't!" Turkey Proudfoot squalled. "I'll take my own tail wherever I go. But I won't take yours." <hr class="chapter" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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