The Wild Turkey 



winged thing to bother about the miserable 

 doings of a trio of wretched earthlings foolishly 

 scratching at the grass there a half-mile behind ? 



The wretched earthlings, however, know their 

 business, and they keep pegging away, each 

 meanwhile thrilling with his own brand of un- 

 holy joy. On and on they sweep! The grand 

 dog, fairly hurling himself ahead in long rubbery 

 bounds, the stout little horse buckling down to 

 his task of keeping close to his almost flying 

 canine friend, and the yelling man riding as they 

 of the West ride, i.e. like so much horse-hide in its 

 proper place. 



Barring accident to the dog, the turkey is 

 doomed. His prime condition makes him short- 

 winded, while the unusual efforts a-wing only add 

 to his plight. Soon he slants to the ground to 

 give his strong legs an opportunity. But fleet 

 though he be, his best effort is pitiful in com- 

 parison with that of the animal whirlwind at his 

 heels. This he soon realizes, and, in spite of a 

 lack of wind, he again must take wing. This is 

 the beginning of the end. Even should he turn 

 about and endeavor to regain the cover he so 

 rashly forsook, it would end the same, for in his 

 present condition he is unable to duplicate the 

 first long flight. That was his limit, and when 

 wild things are pressed to their limit, most of 

 them lose heart. Still, he is good for another 



