When we last saw our heroes, Bubba and Bubba Jr., they were being thwarted by the evil Tubba Turkey. Since then, things have not much improved.
First, the evil bird actually found a human accomplice who snuck into our blind in the middle of the night and stole our hen decoy. That’s right, stole it; as in pilfered, pinched, filched, absconded with. A hen decoy. Guess we should be glad they didn’t take the whole blind.
Then, the filthy bird played us for over an hour one morning. We actually got the entire harem of hens to come down the hill right in front of us. They grazed awhile and then actually went into the woods on the other side of us.
But Tubba didn’t budge. He paced back and forth at the top of the hill for more than one circuit of the old hour hand on the clock, and just kept gobbling. Eventually, those senseless hens came out of the woods, back up the hill, and obediently followed the foul fowl off into the distance. Must be some evil Jedi mind trick.Next, we arrive at our blind after these torrential rains we’ve been having to find that it is sitting in over two inches of water. Not my idea of a good time, so we head off into the woods, only to learn that Tubba’s not crazy about crossing this vast expanse of swamp either. A shivery lesson learned.
And then, we thought all was lost. Crow-call-guy, whom we’ve heard in our wood before, arrives and begins his obnoxious baiting of the bird. Evil as he is, Tubba can’t resist that crow call, and begins to gobble. Within minutes, gunfire erupts immediately behind us. Crow-call-guy just shot our Tom!
We leave the woods dejected that day. But being ever optimistic, we went out again, hoping some other young tom may still be out there, waiting to assume the throne Tubba has left vacant. To our surprise, the gobble we hear is eerily familiar. Within half an hour, we see the source of the noise, and sure enough, it’s ol Tubba. We rejoice on two accounts. One, we still may have a shot at the old buzzard. Two, crow-call-guy was thwarted by the evil emperor of the forest just like we’ve been. Ha! Misery loves company.
I wish this tale had a happy ending. I wish I could say we were chewing on a Tubba leg as we speak. But alas, this isn’t the movies. In real life, the evil emperor sometimes wins. For now. There are still a few days left this season. There is still hope for the good guys. In the meantime, the last comment I heard from Bubba Jr. as we sat in the woods: “Is it squirrel season?”