Last Fall's Turkey

Last fall's turkey hunt did not begin well for me. The evening prior to the season, when scouting with my son, Bob, I took a terrible fall on the wet leaves. I fell forward, crashing onto a pile of rocks. I hurt my right thigh so badly that I feared I had broken it. I hobbled back to Bob's truck and told him what had happened. "You'd better hunt by yourself tomorrow," I said.

However, at dawn I managed to limp a short distance into the woods and heard a couple of birds yelping. I also heard other calling that I assumed was being made by another hunter. I donned my orange hat to get out of t...