I don't know what to tell you.  Our humans are well behaved people, really.  For Homo Sapiens, they are fairly civilized and tame.  You know how it goes.  May is for flowers on the table and spring greens in your cup, June is sunning on the deck, July is fresh crunchy veggies from the garden, August is sweet corn, September is "back to school" (and watching the kids climb into orange school buses), October is pumpkin seeds.

And then, November.  Oh, how can I break the news to you?

It starts out looking innocent enough.  You're in your cage.  It's a fine sunny Saturday afternoon about mid-way through the month.  You see Mom and Dad come through the door with the weekly groceries.  There seem to be a few more bags than usual. 

Fresh cranberries! Hey! Might be a good treat - and Forte is straining her neck to get a better view.  Sweet potato - a couple more than usual, this is looking good and Jesse is getting excited now.  A bag of fresh crusty bread - Bubba's hanging on the side of his cage now (he loves bread crust).  And next a bag of..  Oh, no!  OH NO!  Seasoned croutons!  You know - the little cubes of dried bread - they look tasty, but we never get to sample them.   Why?  Because they are intended for what the the humans call "stuffing".

Bubba!  Get away from there!  It's not safe

Yes - it's time for the annual homage to avian carnage and destruction.  A holiday who's whole point seems to be the deliberate murder of an innocent bird (not a parrot, than heavens, but a bird all the same) - and a gruesome feast where helpless victims are roasted and served up with side dishes.  And the stuffing?  It's used to... no. No.  I won't ruin your evening by giving the details here.  Let's just say it's not a dignified way to treat the mortal remains of an innocent avian. First comes the good china, freshly pressed cloth table napkins and placemats.

It's always a good idea to keep an eye on things on Thanksgiving Day.

Forte!  That's not a bird bath - back away slooowwwly... slooowwwwly....

Then Dad carries "the chamber" up from the cellar.  It looks like a big, square bird bath - but it's got a much more sinister purpose.   Next comes the good china, freshly pressed cloth table napkins and placemats.

Mom and Dad chop veggies, Mom makes homemade bread.

Bubba and me play it "cool" while mom starts the bread dough.

Pakshi's caught between the celery and the chicken broth.  Not a good place to be.

Finally, Mom reaches into the frig and pulls out "Tom" - who is prepared (too hideous to describe)  and then settled to spend the afternoon in "the chamber" which is now hot and steamy.   Once you see "Tom", you know it's OK.  But, brother, let me tell you that we all tremble a little until we know someone else is the main dish.

Now that we have some assurance that we'll see another sunrise, we can begin to relax and enjoy the preparations.  Of course, we lend a claw as much as possible - it's best for your longevity if Mom and Dad see you as useful (and not a potential meal).

I can't imagine what got into Bubba - he's WAY too close to that knife!

Jesse is just glad her name isn't "Tom"!

I help out with the baking, Pakshi checks the baked stuffing preparations, and Bubba and me help Dad set the table.   Looks like there's a place for Mom, Dad, and three others.  Bubba and me are surely going to get two of those places, but who's the last one for?

Ah!  Dinner is served!  Dad took this photo.  From the left, that's Grandpa, Grandma, me (I'm behind the bowl of stuffing that Grandma is passing to Uncle Dan), Uncle Dan, and Mom.

And so we give thanks!  Thanks to the Lord who made us, thanks for the blessings in our lives, thanks for the food we eat, and thanks that we are parrots and not turkeys!

Amen!  Let's EAT!
(pass the giblets, please)