Poor Turkey Momma

This blog starts out with a rather sad story, which also happens to really underscore what I mean by my title.

I've been raising Bourbon Red Turkeys with a partner who keeps them at her house. All has been going very well - the Tom performed as he should, eggs were laid, hens went broody. Then, just as the eggs began to hatch, my partner's husband found one of the three hens had been mortally wounded by an unknown critter. He put her out of her misery and cleaned her.

My friend told me about the sad happening, and asked would I mind if she still ate the bird, would it bother me? I told her certainly not! That animal was killed by an injury, and there is no reason not to roast her up. What a shame it would have been to waste a perfectly good animal.

So, the hen is brining away, ready to be roasted up tomorrow, and served with thanks and praise for the awesome bird she was. We are going to serve her with buttery mashed turnips, southern-style greens and baked yams. She should be quite edible.