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Speedo Varney is what you could
call an avid turkey hunter. He has all the gear, and he makes the time. And he
has a do or die attitude.
That attitude is what I am lacking
in the spring season. I keep thinking, “It’s just a bird,” and
consequently the results of my efforts are small. If you see me in the woods I
might be asleep with a comfortable hickory log as a pillow. I don’t get very
serious when the first of the summer warmth flows down, and the new buds grow
into leaves.
Speedo, however, is in a different
category. That is why his efforts on last year’s hunt surprised nobody but me.
His set was good, with two hen decoys twenty yards in
front of him. A patch of greenbrier camouflaged his form, and a clear trail
followed the edge of a field ten yards past the decoys.
Speedo is a mouth caller, and a
good one. He doesn’t even need a diaphragm call, he just uses his mouth, and
the birds come running.
The day in question was no
exception. He called once, and an answering gobble came from the woods. In three
minutes not one but two gobblers came strutting up the trail. At twenty-five
yards, they went into their mating stance, making them look twice as large as
they were. Speedo had his shotgun at ready, sure that success was his. A three
and a half inch twelve gauge is a strong weapon, providing the shooter can keep
his mind off the recoil this oddball shell generates.
Speedo had no trouble putting mind
over matter. What did give him trouble was his mask. Just as the gobblers came
into range, the mask slipped down over his right eye. His thumb was on the stock
so he carefully eased the mask over, which left that thumb in contact with his
nose.
“This is going to hurt,”
thought the brave Speedo, and he touched her off.
The prophecy was right. It not
only hurt, it broke his nose and he went around for a month with a huge white
bandage on his face. But still, he got his turkey.
That’s fine and dandy, but look
for me snoozing by a hickory log, with a smile and a snore.
©2003 StoriesByEmail.com
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