I did 'cuddle therapy' with live turkeys. Will it ruin my Thanksgiving dinner?

SANTA CLARITA, CA − We lock eyes, and I hold my breath.

I'm sitting on the floor across from Grace, a turkey at The Gentle Barn in Southern California. No, I'm not here to pick out my Thanksgiving meal − far from it. I'm here to cuddle turkeys, something that The Gentle Barn has offered visitors every Sunday for 26 years.

"Turkey cuddle therapy," as The Gentle Barn calls it, is one of the animal foundation's most popular offerings. Ellie Laks, its founder, tells me interest tends to spike around November, for obvious reasons. Cuddling turkeys and interacting with other animals come with a typical Sunday visit to the barn, which costs about $25.

I've been in the barnyard for all of five minutes when Grace, a large female turkey, appears to take an interest in me. Laks acts as a turkey whisperer during my visit. Slowly and quietly, she talks me through how to sit in a way that lets Grace know I'm down to cuddle, if she so chooses. All interaction between guests and animals happens on the animals' terms − in other words, the turkey needs to choose me.

I do as Laks says and, to my surprise, Grace takes a cautious step forward. Then another. Just when I think she's going to leap into my arms, a massive pig comes barreling between us, apparently also wanting affection. The pig slobbers mud on my right leg as Grace jaunts away. For a split second, I reflexively think: Maybe I should swap turkey for bacon at Thanksgiving this year.

Snark aside, cuddling animals has real mental health benefits. Cuddling turkeys, in particular, Laks says, can be profound.

"In our society, we don't see turkeys as anything really other than a meal, right?" she says. "All of a sudden, here's this animal choosing you, climbing in your lap, being vulnerable and falling asleep, and your heart bursts wide open. It's so beautiful."

Yes, cuddling turkeys is actually good for your mental health

Though it may sound silly to some, cuddling turkeys − or any willing animal, for that matter − does have legitimate mental health benefits, says Stephanie Sarkis, a psychotherapist specializing in attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder, or ADHD, anxiety and narcissistic abuse.

For starters, she notes that cuddling releases oxytocin, a hormone associated with feelings of well-being. It also reduces cortisol, a stress hormone, and can lower heart rate and blood pressure, too.

You don’t have to actually cuddle an animal to get the benefits, either, she says. Just sharing space with one can be a potent practice in patience and mindfulness.

"It’s consent-based affection, right?” Sarkis says. “You need to wait for them to approach you, so it teaches you about waiting and experiencing things that are not within your control.”

Every turkey at The Gentle Barn, Laks says, has a story.

"They've seen their friends be slaughtered in front of them. They've been treated very, very, very cruelly and not given any semblance of nutrition or actual physical care,” she says. “There's a period where they really have to heal themselves."

Because of this, she says, turkey cuddle therapy tends to draw "young people that feel like they have the weight of the world on their shoulders." Like the turkeys, many guests have "gone through so much hell and trauma in their lives."

According to Sarkis, cuddling can be especially healing when both beings involved have experienced past trauma. She's seen it firsthand in her therapy practice – many of her clients with traumatic histories, she says, formed deep bonds with her dog Lucy, who also had a traumatic past.

"I noticed that people would share their life stories and their trauma with her, and she would just sit there and be petted,” Sarkis says. Not to mention, animals also make excellent listeners. "You talk to them, and they aren't judging you. And I think that's a key piece of it too, that it's a nonjudgmental, living being sharing space with you."

OK ... but what if that living being is one I've eaten before?

Will turkey cuddle therapy ruin my Thanksgiving dinner?

Many who try turkey cuddle therapy, Laks says, end up walking away with a newfound appreciation for turkeys. Many say they'll no longer eat meat, or at least abstain from it on Thanksgiving.

I love animals, but I am no vegetarian − especially not on Thanksgiving. Still, I arrive at The Gentle Barn with an open mind. Will Grace make me see Thanksgiving turkey differently?

Throughout the afternoon, I spend more time with Grace, who cozies up close to me for a nap. Laks notes she doesn't seem to want to cuddle, and that's OK. However, she seems more than happy to doze off in my presence. I wonder if, perhaps, Grace can sense I'm a meat eater − worth a gentle nap beside, but not yet deserving of a proper cuddle. Laks jokes that the turkeys might be boycotting humans for November. If they are, I don't blame them.

In the meantime, Laks teaches me a lot about turkeys. Boy turkeys, she tells me, like to show off, while girl turkeys are more affectionate (they're the ones who cuddle). A nearby boy turkey, Romeo, struts around the barn as I sit with Grace, ruffling his bright plumes in a bid for my attention. Never have I seen these birds up close − and they really are remarkable animals.

"Turkeys are one of the most misunderstood birds in this country," Laks says. "The way that they mother their kids, the way that they fall in love and have fights − there's so much intelligence there."

Though we didn't end up cuddling, sitting with Grace brought me to the present moment in a way few other experiences have. Not only was her presence calming − she made me forget about the constant ding of notifications on my phone. That's a gift in itself.

I'm not sure how I'll feel this Thanksgiving when it's time to sit down for dinner. I'm sure I'll think of Grace − and of what she taught me about patience, mindfulness and being present. It's a lesson I feel especially grateful for on a holiday that's all about being thankful for what you have.

I just wish that lesson didn't also make dinnertime feel so much more complicated.