When I was in high school in the mid 1980s, wild turkeys were very rare in middle Georgia. My friend, Mike, was the closest thing I knew to an expert turkey hunter, so I bought a 10-guage, single-shot cannon and tagged along in a gilly suit listening to him make squeaking noises with his various turkey calls. In two years of effort we got within sight of a turkey maybe twice.
Yesterday I was hauling down a grassy road on my new cross bike, which I've found is great fun. I rounded a tight corner and rode directly into a flock of about 25 wild turkeys. They flew and ran in all
directions, one of them hitting me in the shoulder on the way by. I'm sure they're still wondering what the hell I was. Mike's never going to believe me.
1 Comment:
Interresting read
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