When most people think of the first Thanksgiving, they picture Pilgrims in oversized buckles and Wampanoag guests politely passing the cranberry sauce. In this mental picture, a beautifully roasted turkey sits in the center of the table, glistening like a Butterball commercial.

Reality, however, had other plans.

Historically, there is no proof that turkey was even served. What we do know is that the guests dined on ducks, geese, deer and possibly shellfish. Wild turkeys lived in the region, sure, but the Pilgrims were out hunting mostly waterfowl. In other words, the turkey might never have attended the first Thanksgiving, which is ironic considering it stars in the sequel every single year.

So, if turkeys weren’t at the first feast, how did they gobble their way into the spotlight? For one, turkeys were everywhere in early America. Colonists looked around and saw forests full of big, slow birds walking around like they had no particular place to be. Chickens were too valuable for eggs, cows were needed for milk, and pigs, well, pigs were delicious but never quite achieved “holiday mascot” status.

A turkey, however, had the perfect resume:

Big enough to feed a crowd,

Plentiful enough to hunt without guilt,

Tame enough not to fight back (too much),

And, importantly, it is too awkward to outrun a hungry colonist.

The turkey was basically nature’s way of saying, “You need a holiday meal?  Here, take this one.”

A popular myth says Benjamin Franklin wanted the turkey, not the bald eagle, to be the national bird. This is only partly true. Franklin did write that he considered the turkey a more “respectable” bird than the bald eagle. He admired turkeys for being native, proud and willing to “defend their barnyard.” 

Still, Franklin’s comments gave the turkey a PR boost. The bird went from forgettable forest dweller to “almost famous,” and Americans began viewing it as a symbol of homegrown tradition.

Enter Sarah Josepha Hale, author, editor and the woman who spent decades politely nagging America into adopting Thanksgiving as a national holiday. Think of her as the 19th-century Oprah, if Oprah specialized in holiday menus. Hale published recipes, wrote essays and described Thanksgiving dinners that always, always included turkey. Not goose. Not duck. Not venison. Turkey. Through magazines and early cookbooks, Hale practically brainwashed a generation of home cooks into believing turkey was the “traditional” Thanksgiving meal, even though she essentially invented the tradition herself.

It worked beautifully. By the time Abraham Lincoln declared Thanksgiving a national holiday in 1863, most Americans were already imagining a turkey when they imagined the meal. Hale whispered, “Turkey,” and the nation said, “Yes, ma’am.”

The perfect holiday meat

Even without the historical nudging, turkey is simply built for a big holiday:

It’s large. One bird feeds a whole family, plus whoever “forgot” to RSVP.

It’s mild. Turkey doesn’t offend picky eaters.

It’s inexpensive. Farmers could produce them easily, making them ideal for annual feasting.

It’s American. Native to the continent, the turkey became a culinary ambassador of sorts.

Compared to goose, duck or venison, turkey is just the easiest bird to turn into a centerpiece. And let’s be honest: a goose looks like it might take revenge.

Today, the turkey reigns supreme

Modern families have experimented with Thanksgiving alternatives, but turkey remains the reigning champion. People deep-fry it, smoke it, brine it, baste it, wrap it in bacon or cook it upside down. And even in homes that don’t especially like turkey, the bird still shows up, mainly for the sake of tradition and holiday photos. Nothing says Thanksgiving like a plate full of turkey and gravy before diving into the stuffing.

So why do we eat turkey on Thanksgiving?

Because it was plentiful, practical, promoted heavily and eventually adopted as the patriotic bird of choice, at least for one day a year. It may not have attended the first feast, and it certainly didn’t volunteer for the job, but the turkey has become the unofficial ambassador of American gratitude.

And every November, we honor that legacy—by eating it.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Michael Kossove is a frequent contributor to the River Reporter. He is  professor emeritus and adjunct professor of microbiology, Touro University, School of Health Sciences, and lives in Sullivan County, NY.