Rise from the dead, O Gobbler!
Addressing the dead is serious—even if the deceased in question has severe limitations in communicating with you. Say, he only gobbles and you don't speak the language of funny birds. You still yearn to get in touch with him and chances are he appreciates the attention, especially since all the supermarket flyers bearing his image are being replaced by ones with candy canes. He might have a message of his own but you'll never crack the subtle code of wattle wiggles if you lack respect and concentration.
Hosting a turkey séance may be the single most transformative experience of your life. After all, ever since you read “Hansel and Gretel,” haven't you always wanted to know how it feels to burn in an oven?
First, chow down. Don't let a good hunk of flesh go to waste. Give your turkey's body a proper farewell and remember to heap on the mashed potatoes. Turkey tacos on Black Friday are always delicious, too. No matter what happens during your feast, though, SAVE THE BONES! You'll need them for the séance.
Once all the meat has found a way into your digestive system, set up the proper ambiance for the séance. Get candles, incense, and a quality Ouija board, not one of those plastic ones you saw marketed on TV in the '90s. Make sure you have enough chairs to seat everyone comfortably, and that your table is clear of clutter.
Next plan your guest list. Keep it short and selective. This isn't a side show; it's a grave occasion. (Besides, one of these weirdos will have to be your medium if you decide not to take up the task yourself.) Don't invite strong non-believers because they'll only pull pranks, like gnawing on the turkey bones or using them to play fetch with the resident yappy dog.
Then establish rules that you'll announce the moment people step into your house and take off their coats. Cameras should be nowhere near the premises. Cell phones must be turned off. Nobody can pull out a turkey sandwich and start pigging out, and nobody can touch the turkey bones save for the medium. All articles of red clothing and accessories must be removed, even if it seems like the séance is lapsing into a round of strip poker. Turkeys hate red.
At the séance, double-check that your medium is mentally prepared and doesn't have an annoying voice. Otherwise the turkey might hide in that big farm in the sky, never scampering out to investigate your dinner party. Your medium should have something meaningful to say, like, “You were the most delicious Butterball I ever tasted. It's amazing you only cost $0.40 a pound.” Remember if the turkey shows up, your guests can't just gape at him. Oh, and definitely don't make fun of the fact that his species habitually drowns in the rain because they're too dumb to shut their beaks.
When it's time to bid the turkey adieu, thank him and warn him to avoid any carving knifes floating around in Heaven.