So there we stood in the parking lot--12 people if you included Julie, me, and the radio staff--and a turkey locked in a crate.

"I'd like to take this bird to Catskill Animal Sanctuary," I said to Jason Finkelberg, the station manager, who had apparently been called out because two strange women were much more interested in the LIVE turkey than they were in the "turkey bowl" competition....and because we had a videocamera.

"You can't," he explained. "He's the property of Quattros Poultry Farm. And what's Catskill Animal Sanctuary?"

I explained that Catskill Animal Sanctuary was a haven for abused farm animals, and that this was clearly an abusive situation. "And the turkey is a she, by the way."

"Look," Finkelberg said, his eyes dropping. "I just wanted people to have fun."

I softened a little. "Does it look like they're having fun? You've got only seven people here, and three of them look like unless they WIN the competition, they won't be having Thanksgiving dinner." I motioned to a chain-smoking mother and her two gaunt young daughters.

Finkelberg gave me Quattro's phone number. "What they want to do with the turkey is their business."

"Thanks," I smiled. "You know, you might rethink this event a little for next year. You're welcome to come celebrate at Catskill Animal Sanctuary--people WILL have fun...and so will the animals."

"Sounds good," he said.

A thought occurred to me. "Wait one more second," I offered. "I'd like to give you something."

A moment later, I returned from the car with a copy of my book, Where the Blind Horse Sings: Love and Healing at an Animal Sanctuary. "Here," I said, placing the signed copy in his hand. "This will help you understand why you really need to stop holding this event." I touched his arm and walked away. Inside I had written: To Jason: All hearts deserve to sing."