DON'T HOLD A GRUDGE

[catdaddy]

To be wronged is nothing, unless you continue to remember it."
? Confucius

I have share of faults, like everybody else does I suppose. Some of my faults I am more willing to admit to more than others. We humans are complex creatures and God only knows why we all have these faults. Life's journey would be much easier if we didn't have them, but it seems that, for myself anyway, I choose sometimes to take the more difficult road.  It seems no matter how much I preach to myself, I am hard wired to hold a grudge. It's something in me, even though as I get older and the years have softened the corners some, I still struggle with.  I'll give you an example; I had a girlfriend when I was in my late teens that I was simply and completely infatuated with. Her ex-boyfriend, Mitchell, and I were bitter enemies—we were rivals and it seemed he despised me even more than I despised him—if that was possible. We had several fist fights along the way but he always chose a venue that he could be sure someone would jump in and break it up—a wise calculated move on his part by the way.  As a result, I was never able to vent, shall we say, and get him out of my system. I think a good posterior pummeling would have done us both some good.  Even after all these years, if I happened upon this guy now--- well, I just don't know—I hope I would act like a gentlemen

I have been trying to kill this one particular gobbler for three years now and my proclivity to hold a grudge has once again reared its ugly head. The first season ended with a simple dislike for this yet unseen avian creature. By the end of the second season, a simple dislike tuned to stronger feelings and by now I had a serious grudge against this gobbler. I rationalized that based on the way he was treating me he obviously had one against me as well. Some mornings he would gobble at all my calls, some morning he would ignore me all together—and I do hate being ignored. I tried every trick in my arsenal of turkey hunting tomfoolery (hey readers---what a great time to fit that word in the story—hey?), but I came up short every time. Sometimes this bird would tease me and act like he was going to fully commit and come on in—only to ultimately retreat and give me a taunting gobble on the way out.  He at times would seem to get into a regular routine of roosting in the same place—until of course on those morning that I got up 30 minutes early to sneak in to his bedroom before dawn, only to discover he had inexplicably moved to a new roosting area. This is the third year of my grudge match with this maniacal bird and I have been after him with a vengeance.  It has turned into a turkey hunting chess match of sorts, with calculated moves on each side. The problem, I have deducted, is that I am playing with the turkey version of Bobby Fischer. I was tempted to name this bird "Bobby", in deference to the noted American chess player, but my grudge against this gobbler had grown so intense, I decided the name him---you guessed it----Mitchell!!     

This past weekend, I experienced a turning point in my grudge relationship with Mitchell, somewhat of an epiphany if you will. Some of the time I should have been sleeping on Friday and Saturday night I spend lying in bed, devising complex battle plans with a murderous intent. I would however soon learn an important lesson on the good things that can happen when we are loosened from the chains of a fervent grudge.

Previously, I had been walking almost an hour in the dark to begin my hunt against this creature I had named Mitchell. I was so intently focused on this one gobbler that I convinced a landowner to allow me access through his property which reduced the walk to 15 minutes. I was so hopeful that Saturday morning was going to the day Mitchell met his maker. I had a new plan and I set up 20 minutes before first light, feeling pretty good about my chances. I can't say I was confident—this bird had stolen my confidence long ago.  He was indeed roosted where I thought he would be, and I was positioned where he sometimes liked to travel. He gobbled good on the roost and after fly down he cut many of my calls. But—he never stepped a foot towards me as best I could tell and after 45 minutes the sound his gobbles were fading in the distance along with my hopes to kill him. I was bested once again but tomorrow would be a new day, as it turned out, a glorious day---but not for the reason you might think. 

I was out late Saturday night meeting some out of town friends in the lobby of the Peabody Hotel in downtown Memphrica for some cocktails and then on to Texas de Brazil for a fine carnivorous dinner. I admit to over doing it a bit on all counts so when my alarm rudely announced that it was 3:30 AM and time for me to get moving—I did so somewhat reluctantly. I had a new plan in mind for this particular morning—a bold plan. Now that spring has almost fully arrived, the undergrowth and forest canopy was almost completely "leafed out". I decided to sneak in under cover of darkness and set up smack dab in the middle of his roosting area—I'd kill him when he flew down and I would never have to make a single call. I crept in and got to the spot I had I chosen in my head the night before well before daylight. As the black starry sky begin to turn pink towards the east, the first gobbles of he day begin to ring out. However, I heard nary a peep out of Mitchell. I wasn't too concerned at first--he had teased me like this many times before. I begin to hear a virtual chorus of gobbles to the south. I was so temped to break from my position and go to these vocal birds, and I in most any other circumstance would have already been on my way--except my passion to kill Mitchell was strong, so I stuck it out patently waiting on him to announce his presence with that throaty gobble I can come to know and sometimes despise. 

It was now somewhere in that time of day when it wasn't dawn but it was dark anymore either. The gobblers to the south continued their siren calls, but Mitchell had once again outwitted me—he either choose not to gobble this morning or had moved to another secret lair. My grand plan to finally kill Mitchell had one again been stymied. It was about then that I had my epiphany. The thought crashed down on me like a ton of turkey feathers. I thought "What am I doing?!?!"  The only one being affected by this grudge match with Mitchell was-------ME!!! Here I was listening to a bunch of turkeys gobbling their fool heads off not a 10 minute walk from where I was and Mitchell was the only thing keeping me from them. I decided right then and there to let go of this grudge match and do what any other normal turkey hunter would have already done---go to them and try and make something happen. It was quite a feeling of relief and a sense that a weight had been lifted from my shoulders as I eased towards these gobblers and walked away from any chance to take my revenge on Mitchell. I didn't know it at that moment, but that decision would result in a grand and glorious morning—void of angst and disappointment.

I had to pay for the valuable time I had spent deciding to let go of my grudge with Mitchell. By the time I hot-footed it over to the vocal gobblers to the south, it was getting "sho-nuff" daylight. They were roosted on the edge of a cow pasture and I had to use the sparse timber line on the fence row as cover. One gobbler was roosted a bit aways from the others, and as I was creeping along the wood line he gobbled so close that I about jumped out of my skin. I literally dove into a tangle of sticker bushes and saw briars under a small sweet gum tree. I pawed into my possibles bag and dung out my snippers. I had to hurriedly cut a hole into this tangled mess just to be able sit, scratching my hands, face and back in the process. I was familiar with this area and had a good set up spot in mind under a huge cotton wood tree but I was unable to reach it safely without getting busted—I had to settle for the mess of a briar tangle I had been forced to dive into. I hurriedly got settled in and a scant few minutes later turkeys begin to leave the roost and land in the pasture. The were 5 gobblers in all, accompanied by handful of jakes and hens. They put on quite a show gobbling, fighting each other and chasing hens. It was quite a sight and I was enjoying every single minute of it. Two gobblers almost immediately left in a single file out of the pasture to parts known. Even though the remaining three gobblers would gobble and strut to my calls, it wasn't too long that a loud mouthed hen drew them away into the confines of a large wooded tract adjacent to the pasture, leaving the remaining hens and jakes to peck around in the short dewy grass, picking up grass hoppers here and there still lethargic from the cool morning temps. The jakes would feed away from me and I called them back several times just for the sheer enjoyment of it. After the hens and jakes left the field, I was finally able to leave my hidey-hole in the briar thicket and stealthfully move a short ways to big cottonwood tree that I intended to sit under all along.

The next couple of hours provided for the best time I had spent in quite some time enjoying a simply wonderful spring morning. Sometimes I am a "Run & Gun" kind of turkey hunter, but this morning, driven in part by the late night out I experienced the night before, I decided just to stay put. The gobblers that had entered the woods earlier in the morning would gobble every twenty minutes or so, solidifying my decision to stay put. Nature put on quite a show for me this cool spring morning and I had the opportunity to witness and enjoy things that only true outdoorsmen can fully appreciate. Some buzzards left their roost and landed in the pasture directly across from me. Now, many folks would not find beauty in a buzzard, but to me , it was a beautiful sight when they all lined up and extended their wings to warm up and let the sun evaporate the night's collection of dew from their wings. Gray squirrels, (those from Mississippi know them as Cat squirrels) were teeming all around me, chasing each other from tree to tree. A fox squirrel made his way directly over me and I marveled at his snow white nose. Two large Indian Head wood-peckers foraged for bugs in the trees around me. The wood-peckers were especially rhythmic on a dead hollow elm tree, making their usual rat-a-tat-tat sound more like a bongo drum. Yes--it was a fine morning and I took great care to soak it all in.

Around 10:00 AM a turkey that had been gobbling sporadically in the distance gobbled quite a bit closer which caught my immediate attention. I instinctively called with a series of hen yelps but received no response. A few minutes later he gobbled again, this time--- measurably closer. His next gobble made me spit out the cigar I had been smoking and move around the tree I had been sitting under since dawn to face the woods instead of the pasture. I called once again and he cut my call--hey now!!! I put my gun up on my knee and to my shoulder and tried to "get my mind right". The next twenty minutes were spent with me softly calling and the yet unseen gobbler advancing ever so slowing. A movement caught my eye up the ridge from my position and lo and behold, there were three gobblers headed my way. Two of them were in strut and one of them, which to me appeared to be the largest, had his neck stretched out on full alert. I looked ahead of the direction they were headed and there, coming though an opening in the canopy was a large ray of sunshine--like a spotlight from heaven. I told myself when they reached this spot, they would be in range. The largest gobbler, the one that still remained in a full alert posture, reached the spotlight first. It was then that he relaxed in the sun and went into full strut. I only had to move my gun a tad, made a sharp cluck to raise his head and then pulled the trigger.

As I walked over to the still flopping gobbler I thanked the Lord for all the blessings he bestowed on me this fine morning. It was then I realized what I would have missed out on had I not let go of my long standing grudge with Mitchell. I continually search for lessons in life and this morning, nature proved to an artful instructor. I think I'll let go of my grudge against Mitchell---both of them. 

[runngun]

Hoss you can tell a story like nobody else. I love it!!! Congratulations

Sent from my MB865 using Tapatalk 2

[renegade19]

Fine story, fine bird.   My grudge was with the "Lone Ranger" (Not the TV hero!).  I never did kill him but I did get what I think was one of his sons this year.  How's that for some old time feud revenge!

[TRKYHTR]

Yes sir another chapter in the Chronicles of Catdaddy. Congrats on a fine morning buddy.

TRKYHTR

[Old Gobbler]

You are hands down the best turkey story teller there ever was ---

I am still hoping one day you publish a book on the subject of turkey hunting -

[redarrow]

Thanks Tom. As always a great read interwoven  with a love and respect for turkeys and God.

[BOFF]

What a great bed time story!!!

Thanks for sharing.

May there be many more- Blessings, turkeys, life lessons, and stories to tell all.



God Bless,
David B.

[tomstopper]

Awesome bird & story. Congrats.....

[REBELYELL]

Enjoyed that Catdaddy, thanks for sharing. Now go out and give Mitchell a dirt nap. I agree,  you tell a story like no other.

[CASH]

That right there ranks as one of your top stories Tom. Congrats on a fine bird!

[vaturkey]

Great story Tom ! Im glad you didn't hunt Mitchell that day ! Great gobbler also ! 



             vaturkey   

[ctwny1]

Great story along with pictures and CONGRATS on a good gobbler.

[DirtNap647]

great read  :icon_thumright:nice turkey

[hookedspur]

Once again, a Great Story very well relayed .   Thank-You Tom ...

[weave]

Woke up this morning and saw this post.

Great story to read as I start my day.  Thanks or sharing and congrats on the kill and death of your grudges.