Last week I went turkey hunting with my Dad, Brian, Grandpa, Uncle Jack, Paul, Stephen (not mine) and Rich.
The weather was perfect. The veterans noted that this was probably the nicest weather they had ever had in all of the years they had been hunting.
That would be 21 years. My Grandpa has been to every spring and fall hunt. Dedication. He just loves being there. And I find that really heart warming.
I'm only the 2nd girl to be allowed in camp to actually hunt. I feel like a part of the cool kids club. It was fun to go because now I can actually visualize the place when the men talk about it.
I was "voted" allowed to return to camp if I wanted to. We'll see. I like the idea of it being a guys weekend. I have to say though, it was so nice to be out in the middle of the rolling hills looking for turkeys because I never once thought about my list of things to do and worry about back home.
So here's the turkey I shot. Dad heard it clucking in the trees, and of course, I didn't hear anything. I turned around and Dad was like "okay Megan, it's right there, aim and shoot!" After a bit of fumbling with the safety and aiming just right, I shot it. And then I shot it again. Dad went and got it out of the bush and said that it might be full of lead because I was only 20 yards away.
Hahaha, and notice that I'm not actually touching the turkey.
Dad laughed at me for that.
But I was like "that's gross Dad."
Anyway, we took it back to camp and Dad cleaned it up for me because again...that's gross.
We found no bb's (how do you spell that?) in the breasts so I must have shot it in the head!
Go me! Yeah for aiming high!
Anyway it was good trip and I'm glad I got to visit my family.