If my NEXRAD images are correct, it looks as if most everyone on our team is enjoying some cold and miserable weather, some more than others.
Take comfort in the image of warm, dewy mornings with just a hint of pink in the eastern sky, exploding into dawn and getting rattled by a deep throated gobble from a limb-gripping sultan that you discover to your chagrin is way too close for comfort. Like almost within view outlined against the blue western sky. You slide your mask up and sink silently to the ground, propping your gun up on you knee in his direction in one smooth motion. He gobbles first away from you, then spins on the limb and roars right at you, sounding like a skeleton falling into a toilet. Your heart is racing now, your mouth is desert dry, you feel like he should be able to hear your breathing from that distance. You ease your mouth call into place and make 3 greatly hushed clugs that are barely audible to your ears, and they are 4.5 inches away from the call. But guess who heard them loud and clearly? Ol' Swami of the Swamp snaps his head up, spins on the limb and hammers you with a machine gun series of booming lusty gobbles that begins to completely unravel your last nerve. You now start second guessing every option that you can think of, and finally decide to just shut and wait. Somewhere in front of you someone is beating a suitcase with a bouquet of artificial flowers, or so it sounds. With a great rushing of wind followed by an otherworldly silence, there he stands. Mad at everything in the world except for his future intended prom date. You. In a David Copperfield moment, he goes from a bronze statue to a black Mini Cooper and gives you the greatest show you have ever witnessed. "One singular sensation, Every little step he takes." Ffft dmmmmmmm. "One thrilling combination, Every move that he makes." Ffft Dmmmmmm. You are the only one in this theater and it's all just for you.
You don't feel the kick, you don't hear the roar, you don't see the impact, you don't smell the gun powder. You do feel the excitement mixed with regret stirred up in joy. What a recipe that only we get to eat. Standing up seems strange just seconds after being so still. You walk over to him. Now he is very still. Even in death, they look like they are mad at you for disrupting their plans for wild consensual sex. Sorry, dude. The measurements are academic and clinical and really seem to cheapen the experience a little. As you swing his heavy body over your shoulder and start walking out of the woods, you pause for a moment and remember that for just a few minutes, you forgot all about that lousy weather outside. And that works.
Spring comes soon.
FC
