Last Day for Old Tom
The earth resurrected after a long cold winter. The snow was melting leaving the streams billowing with runoff. The finches were exchanging their ashen plumes for their auspicious honeyed pompon. Spring had finally arrived bringing with it the spring turkey hunting season. For weeks, I had been sifting through my expansive collection of turkey hunting gear, setting aside my most reliable shotgun and shells and my favorites of camouflaged attire, decoys and turkey calls. Hunting a wild turkey requires the savvy use of a turkey call that mocks a sound that will draw a turkey to the hunter. Calling a male turkey or gobbler may mean sounding like another male, wanting a confrontation. It may also mean mimicking the sound a female looking for a mate. For many years prior to this one, I had spent many hours trying to hone the “art” of calling. Little did I know all of my practice for the hunt, my perseverance and patience were about come to fruition.
As the birds began their first blush melody and dawn peeked over the horizon, I sat out on what would become the most exhilarating hunt of the spring. The crisp, cool forsythia scented air met me at the front door as I left the house, carrying with me all of my necessities for a successful hunt. After filling my camouflage embellished Jeep to near capacity, I had thought of one more thing. Although I had never tried it before, I decided to pack my tree stand in the Jeep as well.
Tranquility and serenity filled the paths of the freshly hued forest. The leaves on the trees twinkled from the heat of the morning sun like lights on a Christmas tree. As I drove farther into the woods, contemplating the perfect spot to set up, I noticed a few sure signs...
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...ast that distinguishes it from a female turkey. Very rare are the gobblers that have two or more. To have killed a gobbler with these adornments was like catching lightning in a bottle. I continued to examine him and noticed that his spurs, bony spikes on the back of his lower legs, were that of a three year old bird.
My breathing was returning to normal and the rush had peaked as I packed my hunting garb back into the Jeep. With my head held high and pride in my gait, I returned to my finest fowl and slung him over my shoulder to take him home to weigh and check-in. I have found it difficult to put into words all the emotions I felt that memorable spring day, but I delight in fact that I earned the bragging rights of the 24 ½ pound gobbler. Today, the masterpiece decorates the wall of my den and I will forever enjoy recounting the story of Old Tom’s demise.
Mascarenhas, Cheryl. “Bird Symbolism and Their Meaning.” Buzzle. South University. 13 Feb. 2012. Web. 20 March 2015.
Pheasants are one of the most popular game birds around South Dakota. A lot of people are known to have pheasant farms because they are so populated and are worth quite a bit of money. The pheasant is native to Asia and has widely introduced itself as a game bird. The ring-necked pheasant is a species that can be found anywhere in North America. It gets the ring neck name from the white ring around its neck separated a blue or black color on top and a light brown color on the bottom. Some of the other game birds that people hunt are geese, ducks, grouse, and some people hunt quail. Geese are a bigger game bird and most game birds are usually shot with a 12 or 20 gauge shotgun. All of these animals have a certain date for their season for when they can be
When chickens get a taste of blood they won’t stop pecking until the other is dead, so when they are kept in such close confinements, they kill each other. About 238 million turkeys are raised in the U.S. for meat annually, most of these being raised on a factory farm. On factory farms turkeys are housed in groups on the floor of a long shed where there is no fresh air, sunlight, or pasture. This causes them to breathe in dangerously high amounts of ammonia caused by their own
Thesis: Glaspell utilized the image of a bird to juxtapose/compare/contrast the death of Mrs. Wright’s canary to the death of Mrs. Wright’s soul.
del Hoyo, Josep, Andrew Elliott and Jordi Sargatal. Handbook of the Birds of the World. Vol 1, Ostrich to Ducks. Barcelona: Lynx Edicions, 1992.
“They do what?? Then stuff what into where??? OH HELL NO… I AM OUT!!!”. Eating a turkey is like eating your pet dog or cat. We turkey's help humans, we are raised for food produce 130 times as much excrement as the entire human population. They’re turkeys from all around being eaten, and we turkeys are no “bird brains”.
I prepared myself for the upcoming adventurous day. I set out along a less-traveled path through the woods leading to the shore. I could hear every rustle of the newly fallen leaves covering the ground. The brown ground signaled the changing of seasons and nature's way of preparing for the long winter ahead. Soon these leaves would be covered with a thick layer of snow. The leaves still clinging to the trees above displayed a brilliant array of color, simultaneously showing the differences of each and the beauty of the entire forest.
arrow through his heart four times, and the bird flew north again”. This part of the story jumps into the
"USDA ERS - Poultry & Eggs: Media Resources: Turkey Market." USDA ERS - Poultry & Eggs: Media Resources: Turkey Market. N.p., n.d. Web. 23 Nov. 2013. .
In the next couple moments, the work might be justified so that I knew it was not a mistake waking up early before the sun rose this morning and that I was not crazy sitting out here in the rigid prewinter air. Even though there are the few hunters that have lucky successes despite not preparing for this day at all, it’s the little details that count out here in the woods; the tiniest twig out of place could cause the game to be on alert and possibly spook. Everything should be in place for this day, and this starts months before the hunting season, in the preseason when deer hunting enthusiasts everywhere track down the game, pick their perfect hunting spot, and get ready for the long awaited day. In this bitter cold morning air, an hour into the sunrise, this lesson that I have learned could win me, at least to this point as the middle school me shakes with cold and nerves, the biggest buck of
Being invited to a friend’s house the other day, I began to get excited about the journey through the woods to their cabin. The cabin, nestled back in the woods overlooking a pond, is something that you would dream about. There is a winding trail that takes you back in the woods were their cabin sits. The cabin sits on top of a mountain raised up above everything, as if it was sitting on the clouds.
As the bushes and brush grew more solid I began to ponder. Will I make it through this forest tonight or will I be taken in by the thick of the mystery? Sounds from sluggish foot steps caused a vibration around me that lead me to stop in my place and listen closely. Could this forest be haunted or was I just over exaggerating? I started to get very nervous by this time. “It will be just fine,” I told myself. I am just imagining things. I continued my journey through the forest but negative thoughts were running through my l...
We slowly crept around the corner, finally sneaking a peek at our cabin. As I hopped out of the front seat of the truck, a sharp sense of loneliness came over me. I looked around and saw nothing but the leaves on the trees glittering from the constant blowing wind. Catching myself standing staring around me at all the beautiful trees, I noticed that the trees have not changed at all, but still stand tall and as close as usual. I realized that the trees surrounding the cabin are similar to the being of my family: the feelings of never being parted when were all together staying at our cabin.
I wandered leisurely along the shadowy paths, enjoying the peaceful surroundings. With only the songs of birds for company, I felt completely isolated from the crowds and traffic as I walked over the deep carpet of leaves. It had begun to rain a litt le when I first started my journey. However, small patches of sunshine soon began to filter through the giant oaks, promising that the rest of may day would be pleasant.
The sunless sky covered the woods over the treetops which created a canopy over my head. The crimson and auburn foliage was a magnificent sight, as this was the season known as Fall. There was a gentle breeze, creating the single sound of rustling leaves. The leaves appeared as though they were dying to fall out of the tree and join their companions on the forest floor. Together with pine needles and other flora the leaves formed a thick springy carpet for me to walk upon.