Turkey talk and other stuff

Many years ago, I think it was in Field and Stream magazine, there was a chart depicting all of the game birds in flight, arranged according to speed. Guess who was leading the pack? A big old turkey gobbler! It seems incredible to me that a bird of twenty plus pounds can go that fast! They don’t lumber into the air like you might expect, far from it. The first beat of powerful wings, aided by a thrust from their legs, puts them twenty feet in the air.

It’s been reported that turkeys make sixty some different sounds. The well-known ones are yelps, cuts, whines, putts, cackles, purrs and gobbles.

What a difference a year makes

The month of March and half of April I spent sitting on my duff recuperating from surgery. My days were spent reading mystery novels, watching T.V. and staring out the window at the bird feeders. The only thing that saved me from a terminal case of cabin fever was the knowledge that, come May, I would be turkey hunting!

Ghost Turkey

There’s a spot on the wall of my cabin I have reserved for a beautiful white-tipped Merriam fan. It begins to look like I’m going to have to paint it on!

My first expedition was in the year two thousand. It was on a ranch near Valentine, Nebraska, along the Niobrara River, a land of steep valleys and rocky cliffs. There were turkeys there alright, but hunting

They don’t come easy

There’s nothing quite like a crisp, clear morning in May. The dogwood is starting to bloom, new growth is popping out everywhere, and each dawn is greeted by an avian chorus of orioles, grosbeaks and a myriad of others. Now, if I could just hear a turkey gobble! 


A radio comedian recently complained that he couldn’t communicate with his fourteen year old daughter. In fact, he said, “She told me, dad, when you die, I’m going to put you in a box, bury you in the back yard, and every morning go out and poop where your head is.”