Oh, go knit a turkey!

It's hard to believe that three years have passed since I knitted Terrie the Turkey from Susan B. Anderson's wonderful pattern, a free download from Spud and Chloë yarns.  If you compare the photos of my Terrie Turkey--named for a former friend--with the "Tiny Turkey" on the Spud and Chloë page, you'll see that my Terrie is rather overstuffed, or, to use the favored euphemism, "Rubensesque." There are two reasons for this.

Terrie nesting on a bed of lettuce in the greenhouse.

One is that this was the first knitted toy I'd ever made and I went somewhat overboard with the fiberfill. The other is that American poultry breeders favor big-breasted birds. Neighbors of mine in deeply rural Rhode Island raise chickens known as Cornish Crosses. These genetically-engineered blobs are so big-breasted that by six weeks of age they can barely walk because of top-heaviness. (Thus the short, unhappy life of native fowl.) So I guess that Terrie is actually somewhat realistic, insofar as a knitted turkey can be realistic. Also, I didn't knit her feet, which adds to the general impression of instability.

She will, as in past Thanksgivings, be the star of the table's centerpiece.

I'm giving you-all the heads up because there's still time before your feast to make yourself and your loved ones a knitted turkey or even a small flock. You have nothing else to do, right?

Meanwhile, there are a few things I need to get off my chest. In past Novembers, as Thanksgiving approaches, I've gone through a few songs-and-dances about my pet issues at this time of year. The first is Buy Nothing Day, aka Black Friday. I urge all of you knitters and your sisters and your cousins and your aunts to ignore the media-contrived shopping frenzy and turn this into Knit Something Day. If you send me photos of what you're knitting on November 29th, I shall post them on this blog.

I'd also like to remind those of you who live in this area of New England that the annual Buy Nothing Day Winter Coat Exchange takes place, both on the State House lawn in Providence and ancillary sites around the state and in Seekonk, MA.  Click here for addresses. If you have a warm coat to donate, drop it off. And if you need a coat, pick one up. No money is exchanged, only good will and positive energy.

So, gentle knitters, here's the drill: knit a turkey, celebrate Thanksgiving, drop off a coat to celebrate Buy Nothing Day, knit something to celebrate Knit Something Day (November 29th) while relaxing in the serenity of your unshopaholic life, and email me photos of your creations, which I shall post on the blog for general admiration. In advance I thank you ever so much for your contributions, and wish you all a lovely holiday and great leftovers, which as we all know, are the best part of the meal.

Different strokes on Thanksgiving

Be mindful that there are many ways to express thankfulness. 

We interrupt this sweater...

to bring you a TURKEY!

Gentle readers, the eve of Knit Something Day approaches.  It's time to fire up! I've temporarily put the sweater aside to create Mr. T, who will grace the Thanksgiving table.

As you can see, Rufus approves. Quentin is somewhat less sure.

If you'd like to give a vegetarian friend this winsome hand-knitted bird, there's a free pattern download on the Spud & Chloe blog. You can make him really quickly, well before November 25th. Even an entire flock, if you're a fast knitter. What are you waiting for?

PS: Since my last post, many have inquired about Quentin the Owl. Also, I have been sternly chastised by a member of the Langworthy Library Knitting Association who has powerful connections to organized wildlife protection, for having captured Quentin and sequestered him in my home without obtaining a permit from the Rhode Island Department of Environmental Management. Apparently it is not, um, legal to simply scoop up a hapless owl whose path happens to cross yours, and bring it home to live with you. (Or with me, as the case actually is.) And it doesn't matter to The Authorities that Quentin is essentially unable to fly or live on his own in nature.

Please know that I have tried to liberate Quentin. I have taken him around my yard and allowed him to go wherever and do whatever he wants. He enjoys the fresh air, but is unable to fly any distance. He's smart, too, and recognizes a sweet deal.

So, when I open the door to let Rufus inside, Quentin voluntarily hops in after him. We supplement his diet with mice and voles caught by Kramer and Rufus.