
It was the week before Thanksgiving, and the air smelled like pumpkins, pie, and adventure waiting to happen. On a cozy little farm surrounded by golden trees and swirling orange leaves lived Tommy, the proudest and puffiest turkey in the whole county. Every morning, Tommy strutted across the yard with his shiny orange and brown feathers gleaming in the sunlight, his green bandana fluttering proudly in the breeze.

At the Parker house, everyone was busy with Thanksgiving plans. “Time to pick our turkey!” said Dad.

“Can it have shiny feathers?” asked Emma. “I want a huge one!” shouted Max. “I just want one that waves at me,” giggled little Lily.

Mom smiled as she stirred a pot on the stove, Grandma hummed by the window, and the smell of cinnamon and apples filled the air.

The next morning, the Parkers packed up their car, excitement buzzing like bees in the fall air.

Leaves swirled around as they drove through the countryside toward a wooden sign that read Farmer Fred’s Turkey Farm.

“Welcome, folks!” said Farmer Fred with a big grin.

“Pick any turkey you like!” The Parkers gazed in awe at dozens of turkeys wandering the golden field. Then they saw him, tall, round, and shining in the sun. “That’s the one!” the kids cheered.

“He’s perfect!” Farmer Fred chuckled. “He’ll be delicious for dinner!”
Tommy froze.

Dinner? Did he just say me? His feathers puffed up in shock. “Oh no,” he whispered.

“Not today, feathers!” That night, under a wobbly moon, Tommy packed his little bag, a corn cob, a feather comb, and Farmer Fred’s old hat.

He tiptoed past the fence, jumped off a hay bale, and boing, bounced off a trampoline straight into the night sky.

By morning, the Parkers returned. “We’re here for Tommy!” said Emma.

Farmer Fred’s eyes widened. “Tommy’s gone!” Feathers floated through the air as they searched the barn, the pond, and even under the tractor.

“Looks like he flew the coop,” said Dad. “Turkeys can’t fly!” laughed Lily. “Tommy can,” said Max proudly.

Meanwhile, Tommy raced through pumpkin fields and corn rows, running faster than the wind. He zoomed past a football game and somehow became the ball. “Touchdown turkey!” the players shouted as Tommy tumbled through the goalposts, feathers flying everywhere.

Back home, the Parkers sat at their table. “Poor Tommy,” said Lily sadly. “He must be so scared.” Mom sighed.

“What will we do? Thanksgiving is tomorrow!” Grandma smiled gently. “Thanksgiving isn’t about the turkey,” she said. “It’s about being thankful.” Everyone nodded quietly.

The next morning, Dad dashed to the grocery store. “There has to be one turkey left!” he cried, running through the aisles.

At last, he spotted one lonely frozen turkey. “You’ll do, little buddy!” he cheered, lifting it high above his head as shoppers clapped and laughed.

Soon, the Parker kitchen buzzed with joy. Mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, and pumpkin pie filled the table.

The smaller turkey came out golden and perfect. “To Tommy, the turkey who got away!” said Dad. Everyone laughed and clinked their glasses.

Outside, behind a big oak tree, Tommy pecked at a pile of corn under the moonlight.

He peeked through the farmhouse window and saw the Parkers laughing together. “They look happy,” he clucked softly. “So am I.” Puffing out his feathers, Tommy let out a proud gobble. “Gobble gobble, happy Thanksgiving, humans!”
Inside, the Parkers paused. “Was that?” asked Emma. “Maybe,” said Max.

Outside, Tommy winked at the moon as golden leaves drifted gently through the night air. One glowing leaf floated by with two little words written on it, The End.