Turkey Hunt

Ron, Jeff, Scoot, and Jim make quite the team. Bunch of old guys doing what old guys do best. Jawing about days gone by and how they’re glad they won’t be around to clean up the mess the young folks will have to deal with. Oh, and the shotguns will come out to claim a turkey every once in a while.

            Of the group, Jeff had a reputation for being crazy. Not the bad kind of crazy, but enough to keep everyone else on their toes. And they’d have good stories to take back to their wives. Sure thing, they always had something to say about Jeff’s crazy shenanigans.

            Now this particular hunt, everyone else had gotten their turkey, save Jeff. He was too busy yakking most of the time to nail one down, but now his time had come. There he was. Big, plump, tail feathers all spread out. Gobblin’ like he wanted to be eaten.

            Jeff stood up, and the other three held their breath. Jeff wasn’t known for his sharpshooting skills. But he looked the part as he tucked the shotgun up against his shoulder, sighted his target, and pulled the trigger.

            There came a great puff of feathers, and everyone strained to see. Then there arose from the cloud of dust and plumage a warped gobble. The little bugger was still alive! And only grazed at that! So it limped along, away from Jeff the mighty hunter.

            He wasn’t going to let that geezer get away, so Jeff hiked up his pants and shuffle-jogged after his wounded prey. He huffed and puffed as he closed the distance between them. A barbed wire fence stood in his way, but Jeff wasn’t going to let that stop him. He dove through – ‘least, that’s what he said later – while his friends watched on.

            Now Jeff was on blood thinners, which does not combine well with any little tears in the skin. So when Jeff reemerged on the other side of the fence, he was dripping blood like he’d just seen combat. But that wouldn’t stop him neither. He wiped his face on the back of his sleeve and charged ahead, closing the distance between him and his target.

            Once he was close enough, he raised the shotgun once again, then realized he’d made a mistake. No more ammo! He looked over his shoulder just in time to see Ron to the rescue. In a motion worthy of an action movie slow-mo shot, Ron tossed Jeff another cartridge, and to everyone’s surprise, it was a perfect catch!

            Jeff was grinnin’ like a Cheshire cat now. He reloaded and raised the shotgun again. Whether the blood in his eyes was to blame or something else, nobody knows, but Jeff aimed at that wounded turkey point blank… And missed again.

            Not a complete miss, mind you. Naw, that second shot glanced off the side of the turkey’s head. So that bird was just spinnin’ and spurtin’ blood like there was no tomorrow. Jeff threw down the shotgun and dove into the fray. When he grabbed that turkey by the neck, there was a sound like no other.

            The three friends watched in a mix of horror and amazement as Jeff rassled that tough old bird. Jeff wailed and cussed as the turkey warbled. Finally, the dust settled, and Jeff emerged triumphant, still grinning as he was now covered in the turkey’s blood as well as his own. The turkey hung limp in heavy in Jeff’s hands.

            “Had to wring that sucker’s neck!” Jeff shouted proudly. “But he sure didn’t get the best of me!”

            His friends agreed, and they all laughed and clapped Jeff on the back as they walked back to their campsite.