Ben Franklins Turkey

They wanted the eagle as national bird. He opted for the turkey, plentiful in his day and an easy meal. He had a point, of course. The eagle was a predator, however; a killer, a flesh-eater, a warrior. Yet it was majestic, a strong flyer, a dweller on summits, and, like clouds, unassailable – in short, a bird well-suited to an emerging nation with grandiose aspirations and a far-reaching vision to match. By contrast, the turkey was a mere seed and berry eater – nothing heroic, nothing sanguine in that. Then, too, it had the presence and bearing of a widow in mourning, dark feathered, drab, weak in carriage; a face almost disfigured by an ugly wattled neck; a woodland dweller, a clumsy flyer barely able to get off the ground, and vulnerable – an easy shot for any boy with a sharp eye and an idle musket. The nation’s high calling needed a symbol equal to its destiny. After all, had not Providence ordained great things for it? Franklin’s choice was sound indigenously, but the practical Pennsylvanian was less than visionary when it came to a national symbol. Gratefully the eagle won out. And history and politicians have had no regrets. From a purely narrow aesthetic, the eagle was the better choice. Public buildings, monuments, and flagpoles (not to mention the presidential shield), topped off proudly with a gilded turkey – well, somehow it’s not convincing and just a bit too gauche.