TURKEY HUNT

Alaska has some very fine grouse, (four species), and Ptarmigan, (three species), hunting. But Alaska is not noted for it’s abundance of Wild Turkeys. In fact, the only turkeys I have seen are in grocery stores. A few people will raise a turkey from scratch for their Thanksgiving table.
I was hauling a trailer load of rocks from near where I work. Coming up a hill two and a half miles from where I live I noticed a grouse. No. It was too big for a grouse, must be a Raven. No. Not the right shape to be a Raven. By the time these thoughts have dashed through my mind I blurted out loud:
“A TURKEY!!!!!!”
I slowed down even slower, took my glasses off and couldn’t tell a thing. I am slowly coming to a stop and now have my glasses back on and it still looks like a turkey. I come to a dead stop just a short distance from the bird, rubbed my eyes and it still looked like a turkey. And I have no gun or anything to get it with. (The rocks on the trailer were all too big to throw.)
I hurried home, unhooked the trailer, ran into the house and headed for the gun rack. As I grabbed the .22 rifle and shells I told my wife to jump in the Jeep, we are going turkey hunting. Error number one. It took five minutes to convince her I had not gone crazy.
Error number two. I listened to her sound advice, which was:
“Since it is evident the turkey is somebody’s lost bird possibly you can call it with a can of grain. Also, it is possible it is someone’s pet and you can approach it close enough to catch it with a salmon dip net.”
We didn’t have any grain, but dog food made the same sort of noise in a can.
When we got back to where I saw the turkey it was raining. Undaunted I started walking down the road in the rain armed with a .22 rifle, salmon dip net, and shaking a can of dog food calling out “here turkey, turkey, turkey.”
Error number three. I forgot what day it was. It was payday. At least four persons who I have to work with were on their way to pick up their checks and stopped to ask me what I was doing.
“Would you believe turkey hunting?”
Then to top it all off, the rain had been getting worse and after an hour and a half I returned home with no turkey, and soaking wet. Since then I have had to put up with:
“HEY! Turkey Bird, sampling your Home-Brew again huh.”
“HEY DB,” (my common nickname), “I hear you have a real good batch of beer.”
“HEY DB, tell me a good turkey story.”
“Turkey Bird. Don’t you know there’s no turkeys in Alaska?”
Etc., etc., etc., etc.

That is a true story. 25 years later at a Thanksgiving party some one will still mention something about me hunting turkey’s in Alaska.

Dickie