Many astute historiphiles will be aware that the capitol of Massachusetts was
once the intellectual nexus of early American society. Indeed, one look no
further than Ye Olde’s Tourisme Boarde’s 200 year-long campaign that advocated
the state motto “Braintown! Population: Knowledge!” Reveling in the glut of
famous writers and artists they lived in close proximity with, 19th Century
Bostonians drank themselves dizzy while quenching their curiosity with the dank
brew called “Knowledge.”
What is less known to storytellers, professional and amateur alike, is the
source of this wisdom. In fact, it is now clear that this wellspring of
enlightenment sprang from the Magnificent Thunderbirds. These wise and powerful
creatures once freely roamed the skies of New England, meting out equal parts
divine justice and bird shit. Possessing arcane knowledge of science and
philosophy, they benevolently ruled the proud Native American people.  
Benevolently, however, until the coming of the White Man. Claiming that they
were conscientious objectors, the Thunderbirds instead welcomed the Europeans
with open wings. They never flagrantly involved themselves with these
interlopers until the American Revolution. It was not the French, an intangible
sense of liberty, or the icy Russian tundra which stayed the enslaving hand of
the wicked British Empire. Agreeing to aid this fledgling nation if certain
tribute was paid, the Thunderbirds tore through the weak and puny Redcoats like
so many earthworms and grubs.
The tribute was to be an offering in massive quantities of the following:
actual grubs, delicious worms and an infinite amount of cranberries. It is
because the god-appeasing cranberries grew best in the swamps and fens of
Massachusetts that the Thunderbirds made their home in Boston.
In the seventh period of the Tweetel bird-era, Skwakus (9th Bird-Lord of the
Quackemet dynasty) made his home in the Boston Common. A regular sight for the
average Bostonian was too see Skwakus copulating in mid-air with any number of
elegant, sensual members of his royal harem. However, an average Bostonian
(let’s call him “Harold Allbright”) would not turn away in church-indoctrinated
shame. Rather, Harold Allbright might say to himself, “Harold, old boy, you
ought to be thankful for them wonderful Thunderbirds! Why, without that arcane
knowledge they gived us, I can only imagine the sad state of affairs that we’d
be in!”
Harold Allbright would be right.
When the War Between the States erupted in South Carolina in 1861, the North
began its steady march towards victory. Alighting on the path this march would
take, a spry Abraham Lincoln dusted himself off and assessed the situation.

September 14, 1861
Dearest Fraulein Messerschmit:
My darling, I ache willingly for you. To return to our love-nest in Prussia is
my only desire. But first: I must rescue this accursed country from auto-erotic
asphyxiation.
I am aware that the North’s main strategic and material advantage lays in our
undoubtedly wide margin in the field of brain-stuff. We are so in excess of
science, philosophy, art and literature that I feel we may embarrass those
Dixie fuckers simply by arriving on the battlefield.
I must consult with Skawkus. Our need for arcane knowledge and twigs has never
been higher.
Much love,
Abraham “Chain” Lincoln

However, old Honest Chain wasn’t the only person who realized the gap between
the intellectual prowess of the North and that of the South. Confederate
president and Hindu mystic Jefferson Davis also felt the pressing need to
address this disadvantage.

November 23, 1861
Dollmer:
All praise is due to Shiva, God of Destruction and Spiritual Repair.
Schedule a meeting with Admiral Gacy and Field Marshall Koenig. I must send a
secret U-Boat to Massachusetts in order that we learn the arcane knowledge of
the Magnificent Thunderbirds.
Sincerely,
Jeffy D. (President of the C.S.A.)

One week later, Davis sent a secret U-Boat to Massachusetts in order to learn
the arcane knowledge of the Magnificent Thunderbirds. Led by Captain Felder
Beck (and secretly monitored by Confederate Agent Ninja-san Bylaw), the crew of
the CSS Go-Bot met with Lord Skwakus. The timing was fortuitous. The Thunderbirds,
grown slovenly by constant gorging on cranberries, sought a challenge. Skawkus
hoped that war would boil the avian blood of the birds of his feather and
infuse it with passion once more.      
         
At the moment the audience with the Bird-Lord was concluded, the Murder Flock
was dispatched. Soon, all of Boston was pummeled from the sky with mystical
explosives and bird shit. Terror had free reign in the Hub of the Universe, and
soon the nation would crumble.
While Jeffeson Davis was reclining in his executive office (probably smoking a
cigar while chuckling contentedly, pausing only to periodically sip from a
snifter of brandy) to contemplate the subjugation of a capitalist empire by mud
farmers and racists, Union Intelligence was scrambling to use the remaining
(and quickly dwindling) arcane knowledge to respond to the Thunderbird threat.
Unsurprisingly (because Boston is wicked smart), a solution was conceived of at
the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Graduate student Nate Stormont
called upon his knowledge of the natural enemy of birds: cats. Stormont (whose
PhD thesis was entitled “Occident and Mendel: The Rending of Genes in Pursuit
of Increased Kitty Aggression) was studying feline breeding when he conceived
of the Omega Were-Cat. With federal funding, the future Dr. Stormont took
twelve black, long-haired Manx and created deadly feral beasts.
With the Omega Were-Cats roaming Beantown in the darkness of night, the
Thunderbird population was thinned and eventually eradicated. Soon (as we well
know) the South collapsed under the weight of its unique brand of slavery. Or
something.
The Omega Were-Cats would have to be eliminated, as fish supplies around the
city plummeted. Fortunately, Dr. Stormont created the Cerebus Dog Corps. After
leftovers and dog shit began to appear at an alarming rate, the Mailmen of
Sorrow were created. Which is why the mail is always on time.