Christmas day turkey just barely slipped under the wire for being done, when the electricity went out. The bird was a lovely 13.7 lb. free-range baby, from Uprooted. After dinner, it went promptly in to the cold garage, in a stockpot with the lid held down tight with bungee cords.
I was optimistic...the temperature was dropping. It froze and there were no turkey meals subsequently made from leftovers. Finally the electricity came back, so I made soup a couple days ago; made buckets of it, as there was so much meat.
Carcass was simmered for hours to loosen the meat to the max, but I had so much meat I didn't pick the bones carefully...the crows can have a good feast, I thought. This morning I dumped everything left, out on the garage roof. There was a pile...bones, meat, a real feast.
Then I went in town to do errands related to upcoming storm. I came home, and every scrap, every bone, was gone. It was as though the turkey had never been. The roof was polished bare.
Wait a minute, I thought, reaching over to the edge of the roof...what is this?
It was the wishbone. They had left the wishbone.