HUNTING JOURNAL- DAY 8
4:30 am- alarm goes off. Get up. Make coffee. 38 degrees, clear, no wind. Yahoo News: Top story- Keith Richards has head surgery and searches for Paris Hilton are slipping. Hit search. Just trying to do my part to help.
5:00 am- Art shows up. Haven't seen him since last turkey season. He catches me up on his past year. He and his wife got into it. She hit him in the back of the head with a frying pan and he clocked her, knocking out some teeth. "She got an order of protection against me. Christy, can i borrow a gun? The cops took mine."
5:15 am- I lend Art a gun and face mask. Get in Art's truck and drive to a place were we always see birds. There's now roads cut through the woods and a construction trailer and dozers on the hill. Suburbia is encroaching. We make a few calls and spook one out of a tree. No gobbles. Our hunting ground is shrinking.
For the next couple of hours we drive around, hitting different spots but come up empty. He wants to go over by an elementary school and check the surrounding woods. I have to insist we stay away from schools, prisons and police stations with our (excuse me- my) loaded 12 gauges. Art reluctantly complies.
9:30 am- Try to raise the one across the river and even he is silent. Art's had enough. He decides to go trout fishing and I find a warm spot, against a big oak and fall off to sleep.
11:00 am- wake up with ants crawling up my back and decide to call it quits. Haven't heard a gobble all morning. Walk back to the house and write blog. No coffee left. I need a shower. End Day 8.
5:00 am- Art shows up. Haven't seen him since last turkey season. He catches me up on his past year. He and his wife got into it. She hit him in the back of the head with a frying pan and he clocked her, knocking out some teeth. "She got an order of protection against me. Christy, can i borrow a gun? The cops took mine."
5:15 am- I lend Art a gun and face mask. Get in Art's truck and drive to a place were we always see birds. There's now roads cut through the woods and a construction trailer and dozers on the hill. Suburbia is encroaching. We make a few calls and spook one out of a tree. No gobbles. Our hunting ground is shrinking.
For the next couple of hours we drive around, hitting different spots but come up empty. He wants to go over by an elementary school and check the surrounding woods. I have to insist we stay away from schools, prisons and police stations with our (excuse me- my) loaded 12 gauges. Art reluctantly complies.
9:30 am- Try to raise the one across the river and even he is silent. Art's had enough. He decides to go trout fishing and I find a warm spot, against a big oak and fall off to sleep.
11:00 am- wake up with ants crawling up my back and decide to call it quits. Haven't heard a gobble all morning. Walk back to the house and write blog. No coffee left. I need a shower. End Day 8.
posted by mike osterhout at 12:10 PM
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