The weather here is beautiful but a bit warm. Dogwoods are in full bloom and itsbeautiful.It's now 85 degrees...much too hotfor running up and down mountain ridges looking for turkeys.

Yesterday, I went to where we went on opening day. I heard several gobbles that were on the other ridge--the one where I have made a dent on the turkey population in recent years, you know, the onewhere I kill turkeys when you are sleeping against a tree or fiddle farting around with some long hair like Jaron.

Like a young fool I bailed off into the ravine and went charging up the other side of the mountain. After nearly dying of a heart attack, I finally came to the realization that I’m not as young as I used to be. Heck, in another 5 years, I'll be weakened down to the physical state that most people reside in now.

Anyhow, as I was sitting there listening to my heartbeat, it became apparent that every living creature within a hundred yard radius could hear it also. I had 9 squirrels, one half grown coon and 3 hens coming from different directions walk up to me and an owl land in the tree that I was sitting against. Apparently theycame to see what all the racket was. The owl looked at me and started hooting. I'm positivethat he was telling all of his buddies to congregatetheresoon--as he was sure that at my present heart rate--I was soon to die, providing them all with a free meal.

Fortunately for me my number wasn’t up yet...and although I might have argued it at the time--God saw fit to let me live another day. I must have too many bills to pay or perhaps he wants me to train up my grandchildren in the proper methods of survival when the Mexicans decide to initiate the Atzlan plan or something.

In the meantime, Mr. Turkey realized that it was me coming up the ridge after him, and after some dialogue with some of the Jakes that survived my endeavors last year, he realized that the absolute best place for him was on the OTHER ridge that I had just came from.

Don’t let those pea-brained turkeys fool you. They are smarter than you think. They discussed flying back and forth from ridge to ridge because they assumed that I would be stupid enough to follow...like I did yesterday. They know that they are only safe if they can get me to kill myself with a heart attack. Then and only then...will they be safe and not have to look over their shoulders everytime they come out of the roost.

Until then...know that I am out there sneaking and slipping ever so quietly. The next and last thing that a big tom will remember is the fireball from the muzzle-flash of my 3.5 inch 2 oz load of number 4's flying through his tiny little brain. As his spirit moves down the tunnel with the light at the end of it,he's gonna think, Hmmm...maybe I wasn’t as smart as ole Bob was after all.

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This was posted to me on a blog by my dad. Man he's a character ain't he. This is where I got most of my gene pool from. Now yall know why I'm so messed up. lol

It cracked me up though, figured some of yall might get a kick out of it.