Being that time of year, I was contemplating the famous episode of WKRP in Cincinnati, where they dropped turkeys from a helicopter and found that they really don’t fly, but instead hit like sacks of wet cement.
Few realize that there really is, or at least was, a tradition of flinging edible birds from high places, a tradition that goes way back. Around 1932, some loon was throwing edible fowl off the top of the courthouse in my home town ( the county seat). My father was there: he described people chasing banty hens for blocks. Those pretties fly.
My dad ( aged 8) caught a goose. Some adult tried to steal it from him: this was the Depression, after all. But my Dad didn’t quit: in the struggle, the goose lost a leg, but my Dad held on to the majority and brought it home. His goose was cooked. And eaten!