You see, Thanksgiving didn't start with the Indians and settlers sitting down to turkey and mashed potatoes, filling and gravy, and the Eagles vs the Cowboys. No sir. And Mr. Terry's photographic genius captured it all, right here for you.
It started, when a raccoon — called coonies in Mr. Terry's Neighborhood — tried to get rid of all the deer by telling them about Cousin Bob's Deer Heaven in Yardley. One dark night, on a corner in the forest, a coonie tells two deer that Deer Heaven is waiting for them. All they have to do is get shot. "
This coonie goes through out the forest — standing up to proclaim to the deer — that heaven at Cousin Bob's awaits, with 18 beautiful deer maidens for each dead deer. Why did the coonies want to get rid of the deer? Simple. With the deer gone, and with the great warming time soon to come, there will be enough food in the forest for all the coonies.
Besides, rumor had it that the deer were planning to go to the nearby village where the humans watch the moving line and get the funnel cake and cotton candy bits the humans leave on the ground during the laurel bush celebration. The coonies vowed, therefore, to get rid of the deer.
From deer to deer the coonies moved throughout the forest. Following the bright northern star, and proclaiming to all the deer that Deer Heaven awaits at Cousin Bob's, where a playground of appliances — such as kiddie swing sets, outdoor grilles, and above ground pools, not to mention the Omaha Steak bits the Yardians put out at night into their outside bear cans. That's bear cans, not beer cans. Get with it.
Soon, all the deer in Mr. Terry's Neighborhood got on their knees and prayed they'd get shot, gutted, skinned, and packaged as burger, chops, roasts, or deer baloney. Some deer even dreamed of being made into deer jerky. "Wow," the deer shouted, "wouldn't that be something, to end up as deer jerky and finally be with the 18 maidens at Cousin Bob's"
This is when the deer created Thanksgiving. The day they use to call Genocide Day — they changed to Thanksgiving. Why? What's with you, aren't you paying attention? Because they wanted to get shot on opening day and then go to Cousin Bob's, that's why.
So they decided not to hide on Genocide Day, now called Thanksgiving. They started to adopt poses to stand out in the forest — a perfect target for even the worst hunter — and invite a .30-.30 or .30-06 cartridge to rip through them. "Make it quick," they affirmed, "I'm headed to Cousin Bob's."
Here's another pose. Notice how this buck is giving the hunter the broad side view, saying, "Go ahead and shoot, I'm not moving a muscle." Notice the elegant placement of the hooves and the positioning of the head and antlers. Yes siree Bob, this buck has only one thought in mind, and it's Deer Heaven.
In this Mr. Terry photo, you are seeing the slow walk to death pose. This buck, on Thanksgiving, will be slowing strolling along in open areas of the woods, daring the pumpkin suit hunters to blast away, getting to Cousin Bob's even faster. This buck might end up in ground meat, or chops, or roasts, it doesn't matter. What matters are the maidens, and of course, the appliances to play with during the night. Oh what glory awaits at Cousin Bob's.
Next, the head on approach. This buck has been practicing this for months, or when ever the coonies spilled the beans on Cousin Bob's. Again in an open area, head down, eyes straight forward, hoping to get gunned down quickly. Gutted right there and taken to the butcher with the sharp knives at Ken the Butcher, on Route 6. Then placed in the freezer.
The huge rack pose. As always, Mr. Terry captures the biggest deer in the forest, hoping to get shot and eaten. This deer will stand this way throughout Thanksgiving, when the men and woman in pumpkin suits trample through the dead leaves, making noise that can be heard for miles, eating candy bars and sucking on beef jerky. One lucky hunter won't believe his or her eyes when it stumbles upon this buck, while looking for a place to take a dump.
Oh, so sad. Here is a disappointed buck at the end of opening day. As you can see, as daylight is leaving, he's still in his pose. Five hunters in pumpkin suits stumbled by him, but never seeing his elegant pose. This buck is devastated, thinking he may not go to Cousin Bob's. One hunter even peed in the thick trees behind this beautiful buck pose. Another hunter saw him, but thought he was a bow practice target left behind.
You learn that in the woods, one thing leads to another. Here, in Mr. Terry's Neighborhood, the doe are lined up waiting for the buck. These doe are saying, "Fellows, don't leave us for the maidens at Cousin Bob's. Here we are, we are your maidens, right here at Mr. Terry's."
Just to refresh your memory, below is the photograph the coonies, peeking through the sliding glass door, saw on Mr. Terry and Miss Janies' computer thingie. Which later led to the Thanksgiving story. This is Deer Heaven at Cousin Bob's in Yardley. Where "NO HUNTING" prevails.
Now you know the rear story of Thanksgiving and when you are so stuffed you can't move, and you are watching the Eagles beat them Cowboys, you will remember how it all started, right there in Mr. Terry's Neighborhood.
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Happy Thanksgiving!!!!
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The end.
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