Pardon Me!

"Most of the turkeys pardoned in the past several years have died less than a year after the ceremony," PETA pleaded.

PETA has a point. Like Americans themselves, commercial turkeys are raised to be overweight; bred to have enormous breasts, they find it almost impossible to fly. And putting these creatures into cages and whisking them off to Florida on an Airbus A320 has all the hallmarks of a CIA operation.

On the other hand, it beats becoming deli meat to have the president invite you to the White House, pet you on the back a few times and send you off with a wish that you spend the rest of your days "in blissful gobbling."

Soon after their arrival at the White House, it became clear that the turkeys have something in common with the man who would pardon them: They enjoy napping. Those watching the slothful birds suspected sedatives. The breeders said the turkeys were raised with regular exposure to people, then selected for calmness and good behavior. Whatever the cause, May sat silently in the Rose Garden (Flower waited in the truck), his snood and wattle wiggling, voicing nothing louder than a soft chirp -- until the president got to the part in his speech about those in the military who "keep us safe."

"Gobble, gobble," May interrupted.

"We keep their families and their loved ones in our prayers and in our thoughts," Bush continued.

"Gobble, gobble," May repeated.

"Thank you," said Bush. Turning to the bird, he attempted to continue the dialogue. "America's children also have a special place in our thoughts during this season -- don't you agree?"

May was silent.

He was, perhaps, thinking of the long journey ahead of him.

With lights flashing, D.C. police on motorcycles led the turkey motorcade out to Dulles. United arranged for the birds to avoid the security line and got them a private bus to the C Terminal. There they napped in a private room, until a United employee reported a "ripe" smell in the room.

"Everybody poops," explained the Turkey One captain.

As the birds made their way to the gate on a baggage cart, the calm of the terminal was interrupted: "Are those turkeys?" "Oh, my goodness." "Can you say, 'Gobble gobble'?" "Oh, my God." "Where's the president?"

The president was back at the White House, preparing for a holiday of blissful gobbling.