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I don't know if it was tradition or custom, but a couple weeks before "Big Thursday" or Thanksgiving Day, my daddy and I journeyed down to Tradesville to pick up our big ole gobbler.
There was a man my daddy knew who raised turkeys just for Thanksgiving and Christmas. Of course, they didn't come all plucked, dressed and oven-ready. These were honest-to-goodness strutters that looked right at you and lowered their wing feathers until they touched the ground. The toms, or male turkeys, were proud fellas and couldn't resist showing you just how important they were.
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