a toucan in a cage in a cabin on lake huron
We tried to explain to her that we didn't want to do it, we simply had to. We had little choice. She never once looked up, just lay there sobbing into her pillow's goose down. The snow was getting deeper we told her and there was no telling how long it would be before the road out was clear.
We would just have to eat the bird.
She argued at length, various points of intricately moral logic she had worked out in her pet's defense. She called us monsters, fiends and a deal of other less polite names and at one point tried to strike us. At last, we were blunt. The snow was getting deeper. We had been in the cabin for three days. We were hungry. We had no choice
She squawked louder but gave no struggle. We felt remorseful, but the hunger in our bellies was growing stronger and our mouths had already began to water at the thought of the bird.
I wish i could say i didn't enjoy it, didn't relish the taste but that would be a lie. It was cooked to perfection, the cranberry pecan stuffing inside still steaming. We drizzled it with a rich heirloom tomato garlic confit that accentuated the lobster risotto equally. Adding in the suckling pig and persimmon pudding there was little doubt that we could ride the storm out for a few more days, renewed and strong.
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