Jennifer Reese raised her own turkeys this year:

The heritage bird runs very fast around the yard first thing in the morning, flapping his wings and trilling musically while the factory-bred girl stands there, calm and blinking. They nuzzle each other, and when one moves out of sight, the other whimpers. How can I kill one or even both of them when they're just settling into their marriage, into their new home? Can't. As I type, it's Nov. 23, I've spent $75, driven all over northern California, and I still don't have a damned turkey.

We want to hear what you think about this article. Submit a letter to the editor or write to letters@theatlantic.com.