Listen In: Used bird bones

Published 11:45 am Friday, November 25, 2016

In this column I like to offer words of encouragement and sound advice. Today is no exception. We will be dealing with the utilization of used bird bones. You know them — the bare naked turkey carcass that is presently taking up all of the lower rack in your refrigerator. Personally I am alarmed at the haggard, anorexic unattractiveness of it, but then that’s just me. Still — and even though I hate to admit it — a turkey carcass does hold promise.

Last year I shared some sterling ideas for what to do with your Thanksgiving leftovers. This year I will concentrate on only one part of that meal: the turkey and its skeletal aftermath.

Here’s the truth. I’m no friend of the cold turkey carcass. I’m turned off by the boniness, the hanging shreds of meat, the charbroiled skin, and most of all by those two dark empty orifices — one at each end. The one at the back makes me feel like a proctologist; the one in front like a laryngologist. Worse yet, they both make me feel like a voyeur.

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It’s not bad enough that I peered in them. I actually stuck my hand in them!

The aftermath of the turkey is what really gets to me. The sight of the carcass boiling in a large soup pot makes me cringe. Somehow I cannot see the end result. What’s more, I can’t get the picture out of my head of that wobbly wattle that once dangled from the turkey’s neck. Why does it have that? What’s it used for? And most important, do I really want to eat something that once had that!

Of course no turkeys that I have intimately known have ever had that dingly-dangly thingy because they no longer had their heads. Nonetheless, I’m haunted by knowing that it was once there, the shadowy spirit of it remaining. Yuck! It looks like a deflated balloon with crimson goose pimples.

Last Thanksgiving my family voted to forego the turkey this year. Therefore, yesterday in its place, we had ham and roast beef. Neither of them left our dining table with a bony chassis that required further attention.

By now my feelings about used turkeys are pretty clear. Therefore we will get on with my suggestions. 1. Have you considered covering your turkey carcass with scraped deer skin and creating a football? I’ll even provide the deer skin free since I have a lot of deer skin eating green expensive things in my backyard. Furthermore, if you are not particularly fussy over which way your ball bounces, this same innovative idea also makes a splendid basketball. Silly you, not even knowing that your turkey came with two amazing Butter Balls!

2. A well-boiled turkey carcass can be a splendid cage for protecting delicate garden plants. Carefully lower the bird’s neck or “that other” cavity (the egg laying exit?) over the plant and secure it by sinking the bones one inch into the soil. If you’d like to go a step further, wrap each carcass with rice paper, insert a candle and create a Japanese garden. It will wow your Scandinavian neighbors!

3. And, why not put a new spin on the age-old craft of building a ship in a bottle? Throw out the bottle and use your leftover turkey carcass. How much easier to work through the gaps between the ribs than doing everything through that tiny bottle neck? Yes, life can be simple.

4. For pure practicality, I suggest you use the turkey carcass for a child’s bicycle helmet. Of course if you have a very small head, you may also use it. Think how pleasant it would be to feel the breezes blow through the empty spaces between the bones as you zoom through the neighborhood. And how the Joneses will be green with envy over the uniqueness of your headgear! But, there’s more! Multiply your blessings by splitting the turkey carcass in half and making two bicycle helmets! Really, now, doesn’t it make all the sense in the world? And aren’t my ideas getting better and better? I will add that for a superior fit Dad and Grampa should wear Tom Turkey carcass helmets, Mom and Grandma hen turkey carcass helmets and young children turkey pullets or pheasant carcasses. For newborns: Cornish hen carcasses.

5. For you who watch HGTV, you are aware that tiny homes are presently all the rage. Why not take your leftover mashed potatoes, plaster the empty turkey carcass with them and create a tiny geodesic dome? I would strongly advise that you use Joanna Gaines as your decorator because she has particularly clever ideas plus super gifted hands. Under no circumstances should you, however, let Chip in on the project. He would insist on moving the ribs for an open concept, thus potentially collapsing the turkey carcass altogether.

6. It goes without saying that any child born on Thanksgiving Day should be named Tom for a boy and for a girl, of course, Jennie O.

I’m wondering why it is that we never eat turkey eggs? Is it because they’re big and require us to use larger frying pans and plates? If this is the case, then we should avoid eating emu and ostrich eggs altogether. And why do we say, “That’ll cook his goose” and not “That’ll cook his turkey?” If you know, please tell me.

7. The next time your local nursery school puts on a small people’s twelve-act reenactment of the Civil War, donate your old turkey carcass for Scarlett’s hoop skirt. I’m pretty sure you can get a tax receipt for your charitable contribution.

8. This might be a messy idea, but if you surgically remove the two largest bones (note they must be matching, one from each side) you can use them for knitting needles. It is imperative, though, that you clean the bones carefully so as not to attract hungry predators. Who wants wolves and badgers tangled in their yarn?

9. Now, if you are in need of a new lampshade, jam the turkey carcass over the lamp harp, pick out a nice fabric from Jo-ann Fabric to cover it and you’re on your way. I’m not 100% sure, but am pretty confident that Austin Utilities will give you a Blue Energy Star for this dazzling recyclable idea. Plus, our mayor will also thank you for keeping the bones out of our burgeoning landfill.

10. For your Christmas table, what could be more fabulous than a turkey carcass terrarium with a miniature poinsettia inside? Or attractive place card holders created from repurposed turkey wishbones? Note: it is imperative you ask your neighbors for contributions of their unwanted, unwished-over wishbones well in advance or you will not have enough. To alleviate this potential problem, you could eat turkey throughout the year or simply not invite so many people for dinner.

11. In conclusion I would definitely refrain from hanging the carcass from your Christmas tree, even though you have gone to the trouble of spray painting it green and rolling it in sparkles. This kind of tawdriness is simply going too far. I also find it unnecessary to have a turkey cemetery in your yard. Family pet graves, okay. Turkey graves, not okay.

So, there you have it; my suggestions. You may thank me by sending your used wishbones. I’ll need many as this Christmas all the kin will be here for dinner.
Peggy Keener of Austin is the author of two books: “Potato In A Rice Bowl” and “Wondahful Mammaries.” Peggy Keener invites readers to share their memories with her by emailing maggiemamm16@gmail.com. Memories shared with Keener may be shared or referenced in subsequent editions of “Full Circle.”