When I was growing up, Dad seemed to get a couple turkeys a year, but he hasn’t done as well lately. There were a lot more turkeys around back then, and at 83, he might not be able to hear quite as well as he used to. Blame it on the farm machinery.
Here’s the turkey story from Dad:
“I guess you heard about my accident? (I hadn’t). I was
backing out of the shed, and I was in a hurry to go turkey hunting. They’d been
coming out in the big bottom every day, and I wanted to get down there before
they came out. It was dark, and when I backed out and stopped, I thought it
felt like I hit something. It was Cindy’s car.
(Editor’s note: My sister Cindy just got a Chrysler 300 a
couple of weeks ago. It’s slightly used, but it looks absolutely showroom,
mint-condition. She absolutely loves it, and keeps it immaculate. The reason
she was was at the farm was that she had taken a week off work to be with my Mom after
her bilateral knee replacement.)
It just put a little scrape on the fender, where it bulges
out by the wheel. I told her I could pay for it. A little putty and some white
paint ought to fix it right up. It could have been a lot worse. All of the
doors still open.
I went on down to the field and set up the decoy. In just a
few minutes the turkey came out on the other end of the field. They were some
young ones, and a couple of them were kind of fighting around. I called a
couple of times. I think one of them saw the decoy, because he started coming
down along the fence row. I thought he saw me because he stuck his head up, but
I stayed right still. He kind of went behind a little tree, and when he stuck
his head out on the other side, I let him have it. It killed him dead. He didn’t
flop much or nothing.
I gained something by it. I always look in my mirrors now when I back up.”
It’s worth noting that Cindy called me that morning, excited
to tell me that Dad had got a turkey. She didn’t mention the car. I gained something by it. I always look in my mirrors now when I back up.”
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