Saturday, May 1 was opening day of the spring turkey hunting season.
I procrastinated a bit, saying I would be ready for a 5:00 a.m. walk through the woods on Saturday. After doing chores and searching for my camo coveralls, calls, fanny pak, gun and ammo and the ever important tall mug of coffee, I was finally out the door at 7:15 a.m.
I knew the odds were against me as I walked up to the bridge, when a beaver loudly slapped its tail in the water to announce my entrance into the woods. Muttering to myself about why that sound scares me as if the beaver was going to reach through the bridge and grab my foot pulling me in. Crazy stuff to think about when I was in a turkey frame of mind. Thinking, I need more coffee.
To clarify, I did not bag a turkey or even hear a gobble while I was in the woods.
I was the turkey in the woods. After taking off all of my gear, my dear husband pointed toward my favorite spot in the woods and pointed out that there was 4 hens and 1 big tom turkey all fluffed out. The turkeys all came out to play after I went home. Okay, there’s always tomorrow…