I have since found myself flying through the chapters that follow these college years; however, I have yet to find anything that can cure a Friday night hangover quite like the gobble of an old Noxubee longbeard.
"I would check him in the mornings, many times in which he would fly down gobble perpetually and disappear in to the distance on adjoining property. The days he stayed close we would talk for hours, neither one of us willing to give up ground to the other."
"With every call I made, while able to see the two birds making their way through the open bottom, I witnessed what is not all that dogmatically common in the unwritten rules of turkey behavior in the spring woods of Mississippi..."
"We have to remember, as hunters, that these birds don't abide with the concept of time in their minds. I promise that in the months of spring, there is not a thing in the world that a male wild turkey has better to do than exactly what you're trying to persuade him to."