When country fiddlers held a convention in Danville,
the big money went to a barn dance artist who played
Turkey in the Straw, with variations...
— Carl Sandburg
Some say the first Americans had named it for its
cluck
Or that Chris called it “tuka” for a peacock he
mistook
(By Chris I mean Columbus; Tuka’s Tamil for
peacock,
And Tamil is the language of Ceylon), but by the
book
The Brits declared it first and for all time the bird
from Turkey,
While Science called it meleagris, out of
Malagasy
(Relating it to Guinea fowls, with Latin terms so
classy
They get excused for making things perpetually
murky).
Each stop along the trade route added names to
the imposter:
The Palestinians dubbed the bird an Ethiopian
Rooster,
The Dutch decreed it kalkoen, a Malibarian
coaster
(From Calicut of Malibar in India, southwester).
The commonest of turkey tags, for Turks and
many others,
Is Indian Chicken, for the land Columbus
misdiscovered:
Thus hindi, dindon, indyk, indjuk, hindishga, all
brothers
Of the nascent New World Order of the Turkey.
Meanwhile, over
In India, some Indians have christened it
“peru”,
Deferring to the name their Portugallan traders
knew.
But Peru never knew the bird until the Spanish
shipped it;
They called it gallopavo, for the peacock Chris descripted
(By Chris I mean Columbus; pavo’s peacock;
gallo’s chicken;
And Portugallans are the chicken-trading
Portuguese).
And so this story goes: the plot unwinds, the titles
thicken,
But dinner’s on the table; you can call it what you please.
There is no grand denouement in the course of
human nature
And from the very start the turkey’s oldest
nomenclature,
Presented by the Aztecs in their native
Nahuatl,
Has been a word the world could never say:
Xuehxolotl.
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