The wind’s cold. It blows across my face as I stare into the deep dark abyss of amber leaves. Was it real? It couldn’t be. My brother has always managed to fight his way out of quarrels. He bit Farmer John anytime he came close and how could I forget, he’s the reigning turkey fighter of our coop. In our coop, the turkeys are no stranger to tragedy. We’ve lost friends, family, and even lovers. I never thought the day would come where my only brother would be added to the long list of lost loved ones. 

What am I to do now? A life without my brother is not one I imagined when I was young. In fact, I dreamed that we would live together in the woods, free of rules, free of the farm, free of this treacherous place that has become the home of mysterious disappearances of turkeys. Maybe I’m being dramatic. Nothing points to Tony being dead; he could just be gone, but he hasn’t come home in a fortnight. 

I know Tony can usually handle himself but what if this is the final fight.  We’ve never been further than the emerald pastures where the horses graze. I cannot even imagine the hazards he might face. I can no longer be a sitting turkey in this coop waiting for the threat to find me. I was going to find it.

Where else to look first then the potential crime scene. Ruffled feathers scattered the field. It was as if they were hand-plucked off – a sight I have never seen before. Was this what happened to my brother? A crow shrieks and nearly startles me out of concentration. I look above me as a flock of crows fly, heading to the warm beaches of the south Caribbeans. You know, it’s weird that a flock of crows is known as a murder …. It couldn’t be symbolism. 

Murder, huh what a funny word, mer-der. It immediately hit me. I had to go to Murr, the local turkey shaman that lives in the pile of bricks behind the coop. Murr always seemed to know everything and he could use his seeing ability to put me on the right track. The only dilemma with asking for Murr’s help is, it always comes with a price. At this point, I would pay absolutely no price to find out what happened to my brother.

Upon arriving at Murr’s, I began to think about Tony. He deserved so much better; it should have been me taken, not him. Murr’s house was disgusting; he’s a cow, literally. Loose hay and feces scattered the floor and patches of his walls were chewed. I found Murr in the center of this mess, dozing off to the sounds of chickens fighting. 

Without hesitation, I poked Murr up. Not quite up, he murmured a faint growl. I didn’t have time to wait for him to get up; I needed to find my brother. “Where have the disappearing turkeys been going?” I asked. 

“I don’t know”

“Yes, you do. Don’t lie to me” 

“Well, a price must be paid for my information.” 

“The only thing I have is a leftover veggie pizza.”

“You’re lucky that I have been going on a diet. Turkeys have been going missing; they head to the barn, and they never come back. Sometimes the detective life finds you and other times it chooses you. 

I left without another word being said and headed to the barn. Upon arriving at the red, rusted shack, I heard a metallic buzzing, almost like the sound of shears. That’s when I saw him, Farmer John, with sheers in his hand. “This is perfect,” I thought to myself. He would be the easiest person to throw the blame on. 

Tony was always so cocky, bragging about winning his title of being the top turkey fighter, and I was jealous. I was the oldest brother; I deserved to have the limelight while he stood in my shadow. He didn’t even train as hard as me. He just woke up one day and got into the fighting scene. He didn’t know the history; he didn’t know the art. So, what better way to get my rightful position than to take out my competition. 

Taking my brother out was easy, it was passing the blame that was hard. But, with me catching Farmer John with sheers, I could blame it on him. The other animals are too dumb to know that Farmer John was a pacifist who didn’t eat meat. And so, my story is not one of looking for my brother, but a one where I killed him.