March makes the men on my side of the family happy. May makes them sad. 6 little letters make all the difference in the world to them and here they are: t,u,r,k,e and y.
Here are some comments the men have made over the past month or so...
Daddy: "Opening day of Meleagris gallopavo season. Shoot em in the head boys!"
Chippie: "chalk chalk chalk chalk"
Brother: "Chalk Talk 2012. Thanks goes out to Brossie Calls"
More Brother: "Bye bye, Turkeys! May you go in peace and tranquility for the next 319 days until I peel your skull cap back.
Yours Truly,
Wilson Felker"
Papa: "For several years, I've had a turkey hunting partner that went with me whenever he could. We worked at it but had never scored when he was with me. But we did the other day! Wouldn't have happened if he hadn't been there."
I know some of you are asking yourselves, "Is this normal?" The answer to that question is no, not at all. But this is a special breed. A breed of men that wait for this all year. A breed of men who get sad when the season rolls out and I guess I'm just happy that they all have a sensitive side.
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