According to a handy dandy perpetual calendar courtesy of the Internet and my hopefully correct recollection of Missouri's formula for opening day back then, by my calculations, I first went turkey hunting 47 years ago today.
Many times I have questioned whether that was a blessing or a curse. After 7 days in Alabama with only one close encounter and no trigger pulling and little action here in Missouri, I was leaning towards the curse way of thinking.
Then, this morning, with little confidence in anything happening after misjudging the distance of a roosted gobbler and realizing he was across the road from where I could hunt, and trudging back up the hill to my original vantage point a quarter mile away, a squirrel barked, a turkey gobbled, and in less than 10 minutes I had called in two longbeards and dropped the hammer on one with a 10 inch heavy beard, I remembered why I was still doing this 47 years later.
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