I Hate Turkeys
See, it’s easy to say online for me. Even though there’s an infinite amount of space on the web and this blog has a chance to last longer than any printed article I have ever written, I still feel more comfortable making this statement here.
This is the time where I’m now supposed to say, “I don’t really hate turkeys. Actually, I love turkeys…” but I’m not going to cheapen this entry by lying to you. I do. I sincerely despise these birds for everything they represent. Their evasive abilities, their keen eyesight, their bravado…their lack of intelligence when trying to peck at a window at their own reflection, their lack of intellect when trying to spur a turkey decoy to death, and their frequent inability to get out of the way of passing cars on country gravel roads.
I hate them because they outsmart me repeatedly and because they cause me to lose sleep from opening until closing day. But I’m going to have a hard time writing this in NEBRASKAland. I want to write it, I do, but anytime the word “hate” is used it most often is linked to something negative. Understandably so, but I can’t think of another word that describes what I think about when I think about turkeys.
I know I’m not alone. I know that multiple turkey hunters who either think this or say it on a frequent basis, but I’m still having a hard time trying to get this message across to readers of the magazine without coming off like some 21st Century, “if it flies it dies” hunter. For me, it’s different than that. I know there’s a respect there, but I can’t stop thinking about how many times I’ve been dooped by a turkey while afield.
But when writers write about conservation, including hunting and fishing, “hate” is the wrong word to use. I get that. Which makes this writing assignment even tougher for me because I also want this piece to be true. But I hope I can figure it out soon. Carroll wants to see a draft in a couple of weeks on the turkey hunting essay that I am currently trying to write. We’ll see how it works out.
For it’s 10:15 on a Monday night and I’m trying to work on this essay right now, but I can’t get out of my own way with the writing.
So much for sleeping tonight.
I would have to say the opposite. I love turkeys. I love everything about the hunt from picking my spot to setup, to searching for that half full bottle of water that I left in the back seat a week prior because I’m so thirsty from baking in the DB all day. A day of Spring turkey hunting in NE is completely full of variables. One day it will be 60 degrees and sunny, the next day your standard freak NE blizzard will come rolling in from the west. One day a single hen decoy will be just enough to get their attention, the next day it will spook every bird that comes down off the roost. One day you can feel like a call champion and every bird in the woods fires back, the next day you can’t get any response. To me these variables are what makes spring turkey hunting here in NE one of the most exciting times of the year.
Good Luck on your essay. Change the word “hate” to “love” and you will have no trouble writing it perfectly.
You hate turkey’s like I hate geese. The only good goose is one on my dinner plate
I hate turkeys too, though not for the reasons you list. I have a turkey, shot by my beloved last spring season – that would be May 2010 – still sitting in my deep freeze, mocking me every time I open the door. “Why can’t we eat it when it’s fresh?” I ask yearly, but the great hunter says “Oh, no. We need to save it.” So now we’ve “saved” it for another year, another year of wrestling around a 15 pound block of freezer-burnt meat, now encrusted with a coat of ice, molded into the wire shelf it sat on for 9 months. Turkey season is around the corner; surely it’s about time to eat the last one, but I won’t hold my breath.