A Eulogy for my Favorite Turkey Spot…

I watch the hen creep through the thick underbrush a warm, wet April has brought upon us. I say what every turkey hunter says at this point, “Here we go. Now where’s your boyfriend?” She closes the distance, I sit, silent and stone still, waiting for the inevitable gobbler short on her trail. At 50Continue reading “A Eulogy for my Favorite Turkey Spot…”