High: 58°F ~ Low: 28°F
Saturday, Nov. 1, 2014
Imagined First ThanksgivingPosted Wednesday, November 24, 2010, at 1:57 PM
Small photo, Big Bird. Happy Thanksgiving
By Arley Steinhour 112410
There was a mighty hunter, they called him Pilgrim Dan,
Who's deadly aim, with musket, helped keep fresh meat in the pan.
The Pilgrim folk had been here almost a year to date,
Half had died, starved to death, they arrived in year too late.
Between the game that Dan could shoot, and Indian charity,
They praised God, that half of them, alive, and free, still be.
The Indians were invited, bringing Maze, and Roots, to cook,
Dan and others went out, to put meat in the kettle, on the hook.
The weather, cold, and windy, did make the hunt, a problem be,
Ever so often, all the men had to warm their hands behind a tree.
The icy wind cut deeply, the hunters clean down to the bone,
And not a deer or antelope did want to grace the hunters home.
The day began to wear on, cold fingers no more felt pain,
The fear was that the dinner would consist of only grain.
Some turned back to safety, and some warmth within their house,
As, finally only one remained, Pilgrim Dan, and his pet mouse.
He checked his musket regular, to make sure that it was dry,
Nothing is much more frustrating, than fail a shot as Stagg goes by.
By the time the sun sat low, and began to hide behind the trees,
Pilgrim Dan gave up the hunt, headed home, for safety from the freeze.
The route he followed was the same, that he had hunted out,
And Dan was not alert to hunt, mind too cold to look about.
A silent prayer, formed in Dan's heart, he'd stayed out way too late,
In every dangers likelihood, Pilgrim Dan today would meet his fate.
Off to the left, some distance far, a Stagg did show an antler,
Adrenalin and hunger, warmed Dan's heart and trigger finger.
Dan wondered how he'd manage, to drag the big Stagg home,
He knew that even if he shot, he and the Stagg would die alone.
About twenty feet from Dan did chirp, the gobble of a Turkey,
Dan knew that he'd get Turkey home, and forgoing the deer jerky.
Pilgrim Dan, his aim held true, and he made history that day,
Or on Thanksgiving we'd eat Deer Jerky, and not Turkey gone astray.
So now you know the story, about the first Thanksgiving day,
And once filled up on bird, and grub, Thank God the Turkey way.
Showing most recent comments first
[Show in chronological order instead]
Praise & Poetry
- Blog RSS feed
- Comments RSS feed
- Send email to Arley Steinhour