Billy Whiskers at Home

by Frances Trego Montgomery

The moment the old gobbler was released, he tried to decide which would be the safer place for him; higher up in the tree or a new hiding place altogether. But where would that be? If he flew into another tree, they would see him. If he chose the barn, they would follow him. Likewise if he ran behind any of the straw stacks, they would follow there.

Oh where, oh where should he go? While the boy was getting off the woodpile was his only chance for the man would soon return from chasing the young gobbler and turkey hens. At last he decided to run into the barn as there were numerous dark corners there where he could hide. Once his mind was made up, it did not take long for him to fly out of the tree and, half flying, half running, he made his way to the barn. He went to the back door as that was out of sight of the man who was chasing the other turkeys round and round the barn, over barrels and under fences and about pigsties, with Billy Whiskers getting in his way just when he reached out to take hold of a fowl and it would escape. The man called Billy every name he could think of, and threw stones at him too, but what cared he when he was doing his friends, the turkeys, a good turn? He could not stand by and hear the pitiful call of the turkeys and not try to do something to save them.

Once the man succeeded in catching a young gobbler, and had him under his arm carrying him away to have his head chopped off, when the turkey called, “Billy, save me quickly or it will be too late! He is carrying me to the block to chop off my head! I have seen all my brothers and sisters go this terrible way. Oh, quick, Billy, quick! Do something or it will be too late!”

Billy baaed back to the poor panic-stricken young turkey, “I will! I will save you!” and all the other fowls in the barnyard and even the pigs in the pens and the cows standing around chewing their cuds called out, “Oh, hurry, Billy, hurry or you will be too late!”

The man was almost to the fatal block but Billy was creeping up still closer and closer to him until he was only six feet away. Then with a little bound Billy gave the man a butt that sent man, turkey and all away over the block, the fellow falling on his face and releasing the turkey as he fell. The moment that turkey found itself free it ran toward the barn and quickly disappeared in the darkness within.

The man was so intensely angry at Billy that he picked up a club and started in pursuit of him. But he might just as well have attempted to catch a whirlwind as Billy when he was on the run. However, he chased him away out into the pasture until Billy took the path to the lake. Then he realized it was useless to follow any further as he would be unable to overtake him before he reached the lake, and he knew if he followed that far Billy would swim it and he could not do that in late November with any comfort. So back he went to the barnyard grumbling to himself, “Well, if I can’t catch that turkey, I will another if I have to stay up all night to do it!”

When he reached the barnyard he heard Mr. Watson and Hiram as well as the two boys laughing so he hurried on to see what they were finding so funny. He arrived just as it was all over, though he did see Hiram shaking himself and picking hay out of his hair with one hand as with the other he held out to Mr. Watson the big turkey gobbler, dead. Yes, the one that had been up in the tree and had run to the barn to hide. He had flown into the mow to hide and Hiram had seen a long turkey feather fluttering on the hay of the loft as if it had just been dropped. Climbing up the ladder, he saw Mr. Turkey trying to hide himself in the hay. After a long chase and many a fall for both man and turkey, as hay is difficult to run on, Hiram succeeded in catching him. He was going toward the ladder to descend to the barn floor and in the dim light of the mow he did not see the hay chute. Before he knew it, he had walked straight into the opening and had slid to the bottom, landing on his head and shoulders, but with the turkey still clasped to his breast. In some way the turkey’s neck had been twisted in the fall and when they looked at him after Hiram stood up, they found him dead. But he died in a good cause for the next day he with two other turkeys made all the family and several of their most intimate neighbors happy as they feasted on his tender meat thickly covered with rich gravy.

Such a dinner as that was! The table fairly groaned under the load of goodies. Two tables had been put together and they extended through the dining room into the living-room, furnishing seats for twenty, to say nothing of a third table spread for the children so they would not have to wait until the grown-ups had eaten. You see Mrs. Watson thought it cruel to make children wait when in all probability they were hungrier than the grown-ups as children always have healthy appetites while some adults suffer with dyspepsia. There were several servants to wait on the table, as Mrs. Watson had seen to that. She did not like to jump up and down when she acted as hostess. And neither did she have the dinner served in courses, with the exception of the soup and dessert.

The tables were most tastily decorated with strings of cranberries and the dishes were garnished with all sorts of flowers cut from vegetables. There were roses cut from beets, white roses formed from mashed potatoes, tulips cut out of yellow carrots, and so forth. The turkeys were festooned with cranberries and surrounded with vegetable flowers. But the most gorgeous thing on the entire table was a graceful basket of fruit and flowers combined. Here and there peeked out a yellow grapefruit beside a red, red apple, while a bunch of blue or white grapes cuddled next a banana or tangerine, all arranged in a most artistic manner, with a bunch of huge Malaga grapes tied to the handle with a bright scarlet ribbon bow.