I’m thinking about shooting a chukar to replace the traditional Thanksgiving turkey, and I blame the vegans for my bloodthirsty holiday meal planning.

(Not that they, or the chukars, have anything to fear — I’m no more likely to bring down a chukar by shooting one than I am to hit a bird out of the air by swinging a 12-gauge like a baseball bat.)

I don’t mean all vegans.

My inspiration is PETA — People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals.

I’m a lifelong omnivore and unlikely to ever tuck a PETA card into my wallet.

(Besides which, that wallet is crafted from leather, a transgression I suspect disqualifies me from joining.)

But my hankering for hamburger and affinity for bacon has never curbed my appetite for PETA’s unique brand of exaggeration.

Although I don’t doubt their sincerity, I like to believe that PETA officials concoct their campaigns — the outfit once encouraged college students to drink beer rather than cow’s milk — with the proverbial tongue in cheek.

(Their own tongues rather than beef tongue, which I have never tried but am told is as tasty as many other bovine parts.)

I appreciate the humor.

It’s not persuasive to me, to be sure.

But at least PETA often injects amusing hyperbole into its messaging. I much prefer this approach to the whiny or smugly superior attitude common to organizations seeking to educate the uncouth masses.

I also have a grudging admiration for PETA’s persistence.

I can rely on PETA to enliven the period before most holidays with an email encouraging me to forego the usual American traditions in favor of something gentler.

So it is with Thanksgiving.

The email, from a PETA official with the intriguing title of Vegan Living Specialist, starts, as such missives must, with a provocative claim.

“A new report indicates that turkeys are no longer the preferred centerpiece for Thanksgiving.”

The email lacks a link to this report.

And when I went to PETA’s website I was so distracted by the headlines that I forgot to search for the report.

A sampling:

“Oreos under fire: PETA program slams food companies for animal tests.”

“Victory! PETA acts when Whole Foods won’t, and now its coconut milk is monkey labor-free!”

(PETA loves exclamation points almost as much as it loves animals.)

The email goes on to explain why America’s waning appetite for turkey is “good news” for the birds, which PETA describes as “charismatic.”

(PETA seems not to have considered the possibility that people have merely replaced the stuffed bird with some other animal as the main course for a holiday which, more than any other, is renowned for its gluttony.)

Most of the email is devoted to a description of the turkey that verges on rhapsodic.

Turkeys, I learned, not only can “feel pain” like humans — something I was pretty sure about already — but the birds can also “grieve just as humans can.”

Turkeys also are “caring parents and spirited explorers who like gobbling along to music and having their feathers stroked.”

PETA specifies that these attributes apply to turkeys that are “not imprisoned on filthy farms.”

Well it happens that a couple days after I got the email I watched a flock of wild turkeys crossing the Sumpter-Granite Highway near the Mosquito Flats fire station, while I was driving home from a snowshoe hike.

These were decidedly free turkeys. No fowl farms, or prisons, in the vicinity. But even though I tried to see the birds with an unjaundiced eye I couldn’t justify describing them as “spirited.”

I missed the chance to turn up the stereo volume and lower the windows to see if the birds would react to some classic rock.

The ultimate purpose of the email, of course, is to convince people to take turkey off their Thanksgiving menu.

According to PETA, “many people now celebrate ThanksVegan, PETA’s humane take on Thanksgiving.”

(And, let’s be honest, an excellent option for a vanity license plate.)

PETA, which doesn’t present problems without proffering solutions, isn’t trying to deprive American families of a festive holiday dinner.

Instead of carving up what used to be a curious traveler who enjoyed music and dancing, why not serve a “savory vegan pot pie or stuffed squash with roasted root vegetables?”

Anyone who’s ever attended a dysfunctional family gathering will have a ready response to that.

I suspect quite a few people approach this Thanksgiving with more than the usual trepidation, the holiday arriving just a few weeks after a consequential election.

And although it’s a comical cliché to talk of a political debate around a holiday table that turns into a tussle, one in which mashed potatoes are flung into faces and candied yams are wielded as weapons, I’m convinced that nothing is quite so dangerous as this seemingly innocuous question:

“Would you like another helping of stuffed squash with roasted root vegetables?”