It’s called the “seven-faced bird” in Japanese, “fire chicken” in Mandarin, “Booghalamoon” in Persian, “the great duck” in Swahili and “elephant chicken” in Urdu.

But for you and me, the turkey means not having to buy any more food until Christmas break. As Thanksgiving draws nigh, consider these tips to secure and spread that great feast across several weeks.

Many college students return home for T-day and miss out on the best part of Thanksgiving: the leftovers. So if you want to come back to school with a cornucopia at capacity, you must master the art of mooching leftovers.

Before you go, get some food storage containers at the store or the thrift shop. Check for tight-fitting lids and add a piece of colored tape with your name on it. This way, you won’t have to borrow containers from your Thanksgiving host. More than one family feud has resulted from un-returned Tupperware.

When you get to turkey-town, unglue your face from your phone. Your relatives might be weird-smelling idiotic bores with preposterous political opinions, but you’re related to them, so chances are good that you’re one too.

By talking to your relatives, you can convey how destitute you are. Tell them how you spent all your money on books and have to gnaw on biodegradable napkins and inhale garlic-enriched air from the Gridiron for sustenance. Pair this with a ladleful of compliments about how scrumptious the feast is. Your not-so-subtle hints will be noticed.

The main cooks are usually responsible for dispersal of leftovers, since they’re the ones who spent all the time making it. Churn up some charm and butter up to them; they are the conductors of the gravy train. Volunteer to do the menial kitchen tasks, help set the table, clear dishes – or, if you really want to score, wash the dishes. This will earn you so many turkey points, you’ll be eating Booghalamoon until New Years.

Once you’ve secured your meal ticket, choose your dishes wisely. You want to choose the foods that will stay fresh the longest, preserve easily and can be used in a variety of dishes. Fresh veggies are prone to wilting, rolls will mold within a week and mayonnaise can become a deadly poison in a day. Avoid them and focus on meats, soups, pies, gravy and that glorious pillow of pulverized potato innards.

Mashed potatoes are like the Marine Corps of T-day mooch, adaptable to almost any meal. Don’t push your luck if pickings are slim, as you don’t want to ruin your chances for next year (or Christmas). And if an aunt foists on you some strange Jello concoction, accept it with a smile and a hug. Drown it in chocolate syrup and it will taste fine. Make your farewells fond and you’ll set up a foundation for next year’s moochings.

Once you get home, refrigerate what you want to eat that week and freeze everything else in appropriate bags or containers.

With these guidelines, you will return with more food than you know what to do with. Luckily, you do know a clever pot-walloper with a cooking column who will guide your resurrection of T-day remains. See you on the flip side, Cougs, and good mooching.