Phoenix Maplewood Meleagris gallopavo

It takes him a moment to hear her and by then she’s stepped over the bird that stops him from tearing into the flesh.  A little blood tips the edges of his lips and down feathers at the corners of his mouth.  He spits out the remaining in his mouth and lifts his head as she makes her demands.  “Okay, okay,” he tells her and sits back on his haunches, waving a paw off at the bird for her to take her pick. “Hurry before it gets cold,” is his only request. Ukko much prefers his birds fresh off the rotisserie.