November 24, 1864
This was
Thanksgiving, which is sloppy and snowy and haily with us, as a general thing,
but here was sunny and pleasant. All day the waggons were distributing turkeys
to the patriots, of whom I believe all got some, sooner or later. Flint, having
seen that his squadron had their poultry, called a sergeant and asked him how
much it made to each man. “Well,” said the sergeant, “it makes about a quarter
of a turkey, a piece of pie, and four apples.” “Oh!” said Flint, “quite a meal.”
“Yes,” said the sergeant dubiously, “yes, a small meal; I could eat half
a turkey myself!” The turkeys were ready cooked and were a great treat to our
ragamuffins. I took a ride in some woody spots within the lines, and it was
pleasant, in the warm hollows, to hear the wee birds twittering and warbling,
visitors from a northern climate, that have left you some weeks ago. Then there
was a pileated woodpecker (not known with us), a great fowl, as big as a crow;
black, with white feathers in his wings, an ivory beak and a gay scarlet
cockade. He thought himself of great account, and pompously hopped up and round
the trunks of trees, making a loud, chattering noise, which quite drowned the
wee birds, like a roaring man in a choir. The pompous old thing was very much
scared when I approached, and flew away, but soon began his noise on a distant
tree.
SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s
Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness
to Appomattox, p. 278-9
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