Old Gobbler members here is another poem from my book Haunted by the Gobble. The book is available now and I have 25 signed copies available. It has a quote from the Old Gobbler himself Shannon Kelly. If you are interested in purchasing please message me here at ctrize.Or PayPal 21.95 to
tedrize61@gmail.com.
The Greatest Gobbler
It was opening day a year ago, I set up in my favorite spot.
I threw a cluck across the ridge to a bird that sounded hot.
We played the game til the end of the day, it seemed he gobbled just for fun.
As I put my gun back in the case, his gobble count reach ninety -one.
The second day I moved in close, right near his roosting tree.
I merely thought about making a call, when he gobbled back at me.
It did not matter what I did, cough, scratch, grunt or sneeze.
His gobble count on that day hit a crazy one o three.
All season long each and every day, he sang the same old song.
My jaw locked up long ago, his stayed forever strong.
My bad fingers raw from friction calls, the good ones black and blue.
On that day when I stashed my calls, his calls stood at two o two.
The final day of the season, back at my favorite ridge.
My call echoed across the way, rare silence came from his.
I made my way to his roosting tree, needing to hear him one more time.
What I found when I arrived, simply blew my mind.
He lay there perfect and motionless, a weird smile upon his face.
I searched to find a wound not a feather was out of place.
I mentally saluted that old warrior, leaving him in his final place to rest.
Then smiled myself as I walked away, for the great bird had gobbled himself to death.
Haunted by the Gobble Ted Rize
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