The slim Texan sat up, blinked as he looked towards the window, and ran his hands through his dark wavy hair. After a glance at his sleeping wife he swung his bare legs out of bed, and sat there for a moment. He focused his sleepy green eyes on the scene outside the bedroom window. The sun was just barely beginning to appear on the horizon, spreading streaks of yellow gold and orange across a wide Texas sky. It would be another hot sunny day in San Marcos Texas.
As tired as he was from the gig at the honkytonk the night before he forced himself to get up. Being a singer and musician at night with his band, and a ranch foreman from dawn to dusk was not an easy life. He had a family to take care of, but he also had a dream. At times he had come close to giving up but in his heart he knew he had what it would take to make it as a singer. His wife believed in him, supported him, and understood. The feeling he had when he was on stage was so good, felt so right, and he craved it. It was a dream he wanted to happen so badly that it hurt. The fact that he was stubborn in giving it up might be good, or on the other hand it might be bad. But he had always been honest with himself, and he knew he would know when to quit trying to make it as a singer because his family came first.
After a quick breakfast he pulled his Wranglers on, stomped into his boots, tucked his shirt in, ran a comb through his hair and settled his hat on his head. He left a soft kiss on his wife's lips before he tried to tip toe out in his boots without waking her up. She lifted her head from the pillow enough to watch him tip toe out the door, smiled, and buried her head back in her pillow to sleep for a few more minutes.
With one last sip of coffee he was out the door into the morning, and into his waiting truck. Martindale Texas was not too far to drive and the ride gave him time to think, and figure out things he needed to do. If the Record company did what they had promised he might hear his song on the radio before long but he wouldn't believe it until it happened. He had already experienced too many disappointments in his trips to Nashville. He settled into his daily job of ranch foreman, accomplishing quite a bit before mid-day. He enjoyed being outdoors, loved riding, and working with the stock.
Hours later the sun was about ready to check out for the day, long shadows were taking over and it would soon be dusk, time to head home. As he headed some chosen cattle to new pasture he was thinking of the songs he wanted to do at the gig they had to play that night when his attention was captured by movement in the next pasture. It was one lone wild turkey strutting his stuff. Those beady eyes looked daringly back into his own as the turkey stopped and watched him. A grin spread across his handsome tanned face as he pulled his horse up, took off his hat, and hung it on his saddle horn. Running his fingers through his chestnut brown hair, he wiped his brow. "You're lucky I don't shoot you Mr. Gobbler, you're probably a tough old bird anyway, and Thanksgiving is still weeks away." As though understanding him the turkey wandered closer, gobbling as he waddled along the fence line.
George walked his horse and swung his rope at a few more lagging cows heading them towards the gate then looked back at the turkey as it flew over the fence into the pasture. "Dadgummit, you sure are tempting me." He turned his horse and followed the turkey, taking a few swings at it with his rope but the turkey would bounce out of the way at the last minute. Then it would turn and look at him as though it were laughing at him. Well now, he couldn't take that. He got off his horse, took a few steps closer and the dang turkey looked at him like it was daring him. Well George let loose with his rope, and the loop settled nicely over that Turkey's neck and wings. He pulled his rope tight, and had him. He watched him bounce around trying to get away, and laughed at himself. What was he gonna do with the dadgum thing now that he had it roped. He was satisfied enough that he had been able to rope him. He looked around to see if anyone had been close enough to watch him. He was all alone out there with the cattle, except for his horse who was looking over his shoulder at him, and that durned turkey.
"Well Mr Turkey, I guess I taught you a lesson. This time I'll let you off, you're lucky." As he walked over to the turkey he pulled his rope in, and careful of the turkey's claws and beak. He loosened the noose and flipped it off. Mr. Turkey cussed at him in turkey talk, flew back over the fence and headed for the woods at a fast turkey trot. The cowboy watched him, giggling to himself, and shaking his head at his own foolishness.
Walking back to his horse he stood there for a moment stroking big red's neck, then swung easily up into the saddle. "Horse don't you tell no one about that turkey." With that the smiling Texan settled his hat on his head and spurred his horse after the cattle.
It was a week or so later before he told a friend about roping the turkey. Little did he know at the time that eventually his dream of being a singer in the Country Music business would come true, and that his success would be beyond his biggest dreams. His friend would repeat that story of the Texan roping that turkey, and it would circulate throughout Nashville whenever his name was mentioned during Thanksgiving.
Several years later an interviewer would ask him about it, asking him to confirm that the story was true. George made a face, giggled a little, and admitted it was a true story. "How did that get out here in Nashville?"
The legendary singer would never lose the Cowboy in his soul, and would have his own ranch in south Texas. That turkey story would follow him throughout his career, and would make his fans giggle with joy every Thanksgiving. (His gift to us is the way I look at it.)
