Just got back from a two-day turkey hunt in the Missouri Ozarks.
Friends asked if it was successful. We never fired a shot, but it was very successful.
We have been doing the opening day turkey hunt in Missouri now for forty years. The only year we did not go was last year, due to the pandemic.
We were told to stay away, so we did.
But this year, we were back at it, spending a few days in the Ozark mountains during the most beautiful time of the year and this year we were particularly blessed because the redbud, bluebells, sweet Williams and dogwoods were all blooming in concert.
Absolutely breathtaking and certainly memorable. Even better, we were with long-time friends who appreciate the opportunity to get together, to laugh, tell the same old stories, and simply revel in our long-time friendships.
Killing a turkey has nothing to do with it other than being the framework of an excuse to be outside.
Of course, the same old stories told in turkey camp are almost unrecognizable because they change each year, but they continue to be told:
• How the hood ornament got shot off my wife’s pick-up truck when she loaned me her truck.
• How one friend had to hitch-hike with canoeists down the Current River, dressed in camo and carrying a gun.
• How one year, I inadvertently set my wife’s pick-up on fire at four o’clock in the morning, and so on.
