“Turkey,” correctly replied one of our party, a lady born in Ukraine who adopted the U.S. as her home.

The native-born citizens among us seemed equally split. On one hand were those of us who thought the idea of a turkey being the national symbol was funny (which is to say, silly, not nearly as cool as an eagle). On the other hand were those of us who were trying to figure out how we managed to get on to the topic which seemed apropos of nothing.

I just had a good laugh. It seemed to me that the symbol was perfectly sensible and, as might be expected from Franklin, demonstrative of unusual perspicacity. The turkey seems to me to be the perfect symbol for a nation whose capitol is full of nothing else. Then again, by that rationale, national symbols would provide no means of disambiguation whatsoever.