My husband and I went turkey hunting for the first time this year with my father-in-law and a family friend who is a member of our hunting club. We stayed the weekend in a camper in rustic settings. No running water. The only electricity comes from a gas powered generator. There’s nothing like it though–the peace and quiet of the woods.
My husband and I needed some much needed “together time” with no distractions. We love to hunt and fish together. I don’t whine about the dirt and the grime; I love it. I’d only cry if I couldn’t come.
Sitting in the woods together with a shotgun, portable cushions, and dressed in leafoflage camo is perfectly romantic to me–forget the movies or a five star restaurant. My husband and I are simple people and simple things make us happy. We saw only one hen pass by us Saturday evening, but it was nice.
Sunday morning we woke up at daybreak and went to walking. It was a pretty gool morning, a bit cooler than most mornings are supposed to be like in April in Middle Georgia. We listen for a gobbler to gobble and we go and chase him and ambush him. We didn’t get on him, but we had a nice 3 mile walk that morning.
We closed the weekend with my father-in-law bagging his first turkey ever. He has been close countless time with everything that could go wrong did. Wild turkey meat is much better than any Butterball turkey you buy at the store, and cheaper I might add. The freakish thing about this big mature gobbler was that he had plucked out his beard or learned how to shave–there wasn’t one. This gobbler should have had one that dragged the ground as big as he was and as big as the spurs on his feet were. It was an exciting weekend.