Ok, so enough of politics and theology for a minute. Let’s talk turkey. Two years ago, one of our deacons took me and my oldest son out on youth weekend to turkey hunt for the first time. First day out, bang, one dead tom. Hey, this is easy, says I.
For a week that Spring, and one full week last year, I went out every morning. Saw lot’s of birds. Had lots of fun. Got nothing to show for it. In fact, it even inspired this little piece I posted on our family blog site:
Turkey Season Day One
Out in the woods long before dawn
Me and my son with the camouflage on
Gobblers Gobblers all around
Making that wonderful gobbling sound
I see them, I see them even in the fog
But the silly things won’t come near me on my log
Stupid birds!
Suffice it to say I was becoming quite frustrated. This morning, once again as another Spring Turkey Season begins, we got up long before the sun to head out into the woods for some more outdoor fun and adventure. Actually, it is quite fun; as well as edifying in many ways. I posted on that last year as well (read here).
About a dozen hens are moseying across the field first thing this morning. As they get closer, my son whispers, “Dad, I think that one has a beard.” Now for the non-turkey hunters out there, a legal spring turkey is an adult male gobbler, or tom; or his unloved little brother, the “jake.” The rule book actually says, any turkey with a visible beard (which means mainly a juvenile male, because let’s face it, do we really want to add injury to insult for the poor bearded lady?). Actually, the beard is just a tuft of hair protruding from the chest of the male, and as it gets closer, we notice that yes, indeed, this hen is no lady after all.
Now, an experienced bird hunter will probably sit back and wait for the big ole tom to show up. Waitin’ for the man’s man’s trophy. But this desperately pathetic novice is glad for anything to shoot at! So I wait until I can get a clear shot of the young male without hitting any of the surrounding hens…and BANG, one down and eleven hens hit the breeze.
OK, truthfully, once we get him home and weigh him, he’s actually only a really big chicken. But, hey. I finally got my first turkey. Even manned up and strung him up in the back yard and cleaned him myself. And though he’s nothing really to brag about, my son and I had great fun harvesting this wonderful part of God’s creation. Now, we’re really looking forward to a good turkey dinner, as well as heading back out for Nathanael to see if he can get another one this year.
For a week that Spring, and one full week last year, I went out every morning. Saw lot’s of birds. Had lots of fun. Got nothing to show for it. In fact, it even inspired this little piece I posted on our family blog site:
Turkey Season Day One
Out in the woods long before dawn
Me and my son with the camouflage on
Gobblers Gobblers all around
Making that wonderful gobbling sound
I see them, I see them even in the fog
But the silly things won’t come near me on my log
Stupid birds!
Suffice it to say I was becoming quite frustrated. This morning, once again as another Spring Turkey Season begins, we got up long before the sun to head out into the woods for some more outdoor fun and adventure. Actually, it is quite fun; as well as edifying in many ways. I posted on that last year as well (read here).
About a dozen hens are moseying across the field first thing this morning. As they get closer, my son whispers, “Dad, I think that one has a beard.” Now for the non-turkey hunters out there, a legal spring turkey is an adult male gobbler, or tom; or his unloved little brother, the “jake.” The rule book actually says, any turkey with a visible beard (which means mainly a juvenile male, because let’s face it, do we really want to add injury to insult for the poor bearded lady?). Actually, the beard is just a tuft of hair protruding from the chest of the male, and as it gets closer, we notice that yes, indeed, this hen is no lady after all.
Now, an experienced bird hunter will probably sit back and wait for the big ole tom to show up. Waitin’ for the man’s man’s trophy. But this desperately pathetic novice is glad for anything to shoot at! So I wait until I can get a clear shot of the young male without hitting any of the surrounding hens…and BANG, one down and eleven hens hit the breeze.
OK, truthfully, once we get him home and weigh him, he’s actually only a really big chicken. But, hey. I finally got my first turkey. Even manned up and strung him up in the back yard and cleaned him myself. And though he’s nothing really to brag about, my son and I had great fun harvesting this wonderful part of God’s creation. Now, we’re really looking forward to a good turkey dinner, as well as heading back out for Nathanael to see if he can get another one this year.
Now back to our regularly scheduled programming.
1 comment:
How fun! I took a pregant wife out turkey hunting once with friends in North Carolina. Didn't get anything that time but sure enjoyed the hunt.
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