Talkin' Turkey

Lately we’ve been experiencing some unseasonably warm weather here in the SC. This weekend was no different. I was happy the weather was decent because this past Saturday was a special day. After doing some yard work I decided to fully embrace my role as the sole provider for my family of one. I did what any red-blooded male would do this time of year. I exercised my right to bear arms, grabbed my shotgun, and headed for the woods.

Saturday marked the end of the turkey hunting season until next spring. Since Thanksgiving is only a few days away I decided it would be fitting to provide a fresh wild turkey for the table. I met up with Brian at his camp about two o’clock. That didn’t leave much daylight for shooting, but I was overly confident I wouldn’t need much time. After getting into maximum camouflage and popping a few shells into my gun, we headed out.

About an hour into the hunt Brian and I found ourselves on top of a ridge where we anticipated the turkeys would return for their nightly roosting. We had about thirty-minutes of daylight left so we hunkered down near a tree to wait. Shortly after we got comfortable we heard that unmistakable gobble of a turkey, and he was close-by. We positioned ourselves just off the ridge-top so the turkey wouldn’t see us but unfortunately we were a bit too far off the top because we couldn’t see him either. Because of this predicament we decided to slowly head back to the top with the hope of seeing the turkey before he saw us.

With guns at the ready we made our move. Each step was calculated and slow. It was like walking on eggshells. Ironically it sounded like we were actually on eggshells because of all the dried leaves under foot. All of a sudden we saw our prize. At that very moment he must have seen us too because he started running and began to fly up into the trees. As I tracked him with my gun; finger on the trigger; waiting for the shot that would knock my Thanksgiving centerpiece out of the air; the business end of my weapon found a tree. I waited to hear Brian’s gun echo through the valley but all I heard was silence (followed by a few profanities).

As the final shreds of shooting light faded, Brian and I watched the last bird of the season escape to the safety of the trees. Empty handed, we headed back to the cabin. On the way back we recounted the missed opportunity and began to concoct a more dramatic story to tell the rest of the hunters. At the end of the day I was okay with the turkey escaping because the spring season isn’t too far off. Besides, the grocery store sells turkeys too.