(CNN) Your Thanksgiving turkey, the prince of poultry, the darling of dinner tables and the centerpiece of your holiday spread, has died (obviously). It was probably around four months old.

It left behind drumsticks, giblets, a gizzard and was preceded in death by untold numbers of other turkeys extinguished in the long-held tradition of holiday carnivorousness.

Your turkey shuffled off this fowl coil before it ever had to witness the president formally pardon Bread and Butter , a pair who will now live out their days at Virginia Tech's Gobblers Rest retirement pen for very important turkeys.

Your turkey did not enjoy the fleeting national fame or overnight luxury hotel stay that a presidential pardon provides. Your turkey probably didn't even have an unimaginative food-inspired name. It may not have had a name at all.

This is not your turkey.

But your turkey almost certainly did not die alone. The average turkey farmer in Minnesota, the top turkey producer in the US, raises three flocks a year with 15,000 birds in each flock.

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