New Turritory

For some time I have been intent on getting Avril's father some Turr.
It's a bird.
Apparently they're entirely black, once plucked.
And they taste like something that my grandfather would have enjoyed eating.
Bad.
They taste bad.
But of the land.
Anyway, Avril's father mentioned that he used to enjoy Turr at a younger time.
So I cataloged this in my brain.
Caused me to forget to pay my VISA bill for that month in the process, but whatever.
I filed this away because I knew that my father would be able to procure for me this bird.
Unlike Avril's dad, mine primarily associates with savages.
Dad has said for some time that he had a bead on some.
Some nights ago, Dr. Lear dropped by for a visit.
Despite being a doctor, and a real go-getter at that, Dr. Lear enjoys shooting things a great deal.
Woodsy.
He's woodsy.
"Here are your Turr!" Then he handed me this bag, which I laid in the freezer.
But on the way to the freezer, I thought to myself in my head:
"I'm not going to look in the bag right now...
...But these feel like two frozen bird carcasses.
That's what these feel like."
Y'know what I had pictured.
Some mysterious black meat in a somewhat opaque, tightly sealed mason jar.
That would have been fine.
You can give that to someone as a gift.
You can't give someone two frozen, deceased animals.
That's no good.
I mentioned all of this to dad today
(After he showed me how to use a whipper snipper!).
He chuckled and said, "Yeah, these birds were what you might call, 'gathered in the rough.'"
How apt.
I considered this, and then said, "Well, they're better to him like this than they were flying around..."
I'll keep you posted on this one.
I have a good feeling about it.