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From: jcrowder@groupw.cns.vt.edu (Jeff Crowder)
Newsgroups: rec.hunting
Subject: Re: Wounded Animals
Message-ID: <1991May30.080632.14342@doug.cae.wisc.edu>
Date: 30 May 91 13:06:32 GMT
References: <1991May27.171413.29413@doug.cae.wisc.edu> <1991May28.101833.3357@doug.cae.wisc.edu>
Organization: Va Tech Communications Resources
Lines: 30
Approved: hunting@osnome.che.wisc.edu
Originator: hunting@osnome.che.wisc.edu


The following is absolutely true, totally unexagerrated, and completely
unsubstantiated...

An ole hay making buddy of mine left the barn late one evening in his
'67 Ford station wagon.  He'd no sooner turned onto the main road (dirt
nontheless) and picked up to cruising speed when a confounded old
gobbler low winged across his path and collided with his chrome.  He
pulled over and walked back to the ditch where the battered bird lay in
an apparent state of mortification.  There were no phones anywheres
close about to call the game warden and my friend figured that if he
left the bird long where it was some scavenging critter would make off
with it.  So he snatched it up by its legs and carried it back to his
car where he stuffed it in an old feed sack.  He pitched the package in
the back of his card and sped off.  

He made it to the truck stop on route 11 before he began to hear a
strange, high pitched "urrkk urrkk??" kind of sound.  Querelous at
first, my buddy quickly changed his state of mind to highly concerned
when the feedsack began hopping and bouncing all over the back of his
wagon in a furious rail.  He barely was able to bring the old Ford to a
stop off the road and dive out before the surprised and enraged gobbler
ripped out of the sack.  Escape was my friend's only thought as he
slammed the car door behind him.  He quickly realized this was a mistake
as the trapped turkey began to rip his upholstery in a frenzy.  Out of
love for his old buggy, my buddy summoned the wherewithall to open the
car door.  The old bird immediatly bolted for the opening and flapping
his wings indignantly took to flight.  My friend stuck his lower jaw in
his hip pocket while he watched the turkey soar off into the darkening
summer evening.

- Jeff Crowder
- jcrowder@groupw.cns.vt.edu