At any rate, I am far from being a selective trophy hunter; only going after the biggest. So getting these smaller provisions under my belt is a good stepping stone in my hunting career. I saw the beard on it. I thought it over for another few seconds. I raised my gun and unsafetied it.
The turkey was 25, maybe 30 yards away. It was walking away from me up an incline. My trusty sidekick Jeff would be waiting eagerly on top of the ridge to remedy any missed shot. There would be no need. Despite the smaller target, meaning a more exact shot of course, the turkey slumped to the ground after the thunderous crack of the shotgun. Its wing fluttered one last time.
When it was all said and done, Jeff and I took the breast meat. My other buddy Larry took the legs and thighs to cook up in a stew or turkey pies. Small or not, nothing really went to waste. Jeff also kept the tail feathers - they are useful at school for painting...
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