Thanksgiving

It’s that time of year again. Thanksgiving time - the time where I start talking smack. This year I am going to shoot my own dinner!

Let me give a little background. My house was built before the rest of the neighborhood. This has resulted in a few anomalies. One is that the house number is out of order – we are 205 right next to 238. This is always fun when trying to get packages delivered. Another is that our house is deemed ‘county’ where all our neighbors are ‘city’. This means that we have the express privilege of shooting things on our own property.

Hence the smack talk.

When you add in that we inherited my father-in-law’s sniper rifle, things get fun. I decided last year that I wanted to shoot my own turkey for thanksgiving. I’ve been told that wild turkeys have the best flavor, too. I can’t wait.

Okay, now’s the time for all you Peta/vegetarians to stuff it. I am a firm believer that God gave us those pointy teeth to eat meat. I don’t believe in senseless or inhumane killing, but I did see The Lion King. I do think there’s a circle of life and it ain’t like the guidance circle the schoolkids are having these days. I don’t think the lion and the zebra should sit down together and talk about their differences – unless, of course, the zebra is suicidal.

On the other hand, I am like most people – I have a soft spot for cute fuzzy things. Mammals are harder to kill. (I could never take down Bambi!) And things that are closer to the me-ness that is me get more respect. Sorry, just the way it is. Admit it, you happily poison weeds. I bet you squash bugs, even outside your house. Even the kinds that don’t bite or sting. Some of you will even extend the killing to include snakes . . . They are not like you, and don’t deserve as much respect as, say, the Gray Wolf that we will tirelessly work to save.

My line is at birds. The turkey is – literally – fair game. There are flocks of wild turkeys here in “the bend” where I live. They roam the streets. They are in the neighbors’ yards. But they won’t come into mine.

I lay out in my back yard, rifle poised on its bi-pod, ready to aim. I am a good shot – after all that research for Vengeance, I’m good with a hand gun, too. But there is a real sense of satisfaction in finding a good use for the sniper rifle.

Unfortunately, the turkeys don’t come. I check with the local laws. Apparently it is legal to feed the animals on county properties. It is legal to shoot them, too. It just ain’t legal to bait the turkeys then shoot them. The law isn’t really specific about how long a time lapse I need between the baiting and the shooting . . . . hmmmmm.

Once I found this out, there just wasn’t enough time to feed the birds and establish my yard as a food source. I also can’t stake out in my yard and place a well aimed shot down the street to get a bird off the neighbor’s lawn. (Ultimately, I must agree that this is a good law.) And the turkeys never came closer than three houses away. Apparently, they were smarter than that. In fact the only county lands I have ever seen them on are a few vacant lawns that have big ‘no trespassing’ signs posted. Are they turkey sanctuaries?

In the end, this year I was forced to give some grudging respect to the birds. I mean, they went everywhere in my neighborhood except near my house! I was also forced to buy my Thanksgiving meats at Publix like everyone else.

But next year . . . next year there will be random free corn scattered across my lawn in early November. Next year I will build a real blind to hide in. Next year . . . well, let me just say this:
Game on, turkeys!