Hunting turkeys


Mario and Jon have gone turkey hunting a few times over the last month. They have come back empty-handed every time. Jon has, too, when he goes it alone. In fact, I think it’s been at least five years since Jon or my dad have gotten a turkey (the last time I remember is when I was laying out in the front yard and dad pulled up with a turkey he shot -I held it up by its turkey legs in my bikini – classy).

So, when Mario and I walked by the library on Tuesday night (Ri went out to dinner with her girlfriends after softball practice) and caught a glimpse of a turkey, we got excited. Mario screamed “Look at the big boy!” He strutted his fine self all around the cage (the turkey, that is).

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Mario begged me to call Jon and tell him. “Dad can’t shoot this turkey, though because he’s a pet.” At least he’s got some sense (every other time we talk about turkeys he wants to get out and hunt ’em). The woman owner was sweet as can be with the kids. She had ducks, chicks, rabbits and the Tom turkey. Mario petted all of them but couldn’t quite leave that turkey.

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When we headed home, I looked back at the turkey and glanced at Mario. “See, you couldn’t shoot one of those babes, could you?” He looked up at me for a second, grinned, and ran down the street laughing.

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