Sometimes there really can be too much of a good thing... An Eighteenth Century hunter sat positioned in a carefully chosen spot based on a well traveled game path. He sat there for hours, waiting, trying not to shift the wallet slung over his shoulder holding all of his supplies. He would hunt for weeks in order to provide the food his family would need. Then the bushes began to rustle up ahead. The hunter called out to the turkeys using his wing bone call and they began to head his way and then... he heard another flock coming in from behind.
Sometimes there really can be too much of a good thing...
An Eighteenth Century hunter sat positioned in a carefully chosen spot based on a well traveled game path. He sat there for hours, waiting, trying not to shift the wallet slung over his shoulder holding all of his supplies. He would hunt for weeks in order to provide the food his family would need. Then the bushes began to rustle up ahead. The hunter called out to the turkeys using his wing bone call and they began to head his way and then...
he heard another flock coming in from behind.