My paternal grandpa was a butcher. He was always perplexed by the way turkey had become traditional for Christmas (although he sold plenty, because business is business) and thought that there were much nicer things to put on your plate.
He put a swing up behind his house for me and my wee brother to use when we visited, but since it was never used otherwise, we might go round the back to find a couple of pheasant carcasses hanging from it.
My paternal grandpa was a butcher. He was always perplexed by the way turkey had become traditional for Christmas (although he sold plenty, because business is business) and thought that there were much nicer things to put on your plate.
He put a swing up behind his house for me and my wee brother to use when we visited, but since it was never used otherwise, we might go round the back to find a couple of pheasant carcasses hanging from it.