"In the South, turkey hunting is different. It’s not just another season, but an unwritten religion in some areas. Every March, the spring woods are flooded in waves by a legion of hunters cut from a different cloth - a breed born into an obsession in which no obstacle phases. 

People know a real turkey hunter when they see one. No introduction is needed, nor are they warranted. For those few weeks out of the year, their state of mind shifts seemingly overnight. They carry themselves differently. They become difficult to get in touch with, and eventually speak only when spoken to.

Their eyes grow bloodshot by the day, yet the restlessness behind them grows by the hour. Some are admired, some are hated, and neither of them care. Jobs are lost. Relationships fade. Health becomes an afterthought. In the South, it’s an understanding. They know it’s crazy. But to them, to us, it’s worth it."