Gobbler Grease

The ole fat boy strolled out the back door this mid-morn and immediately heard the busy cluck of a flock of wild turkey in the nearby tree line.

Easin' back into the house, the hungry hunter slipped a 7mm-08 cartridge into the breech of the Ruger and eagerly awaited a poultry bounty.

Right as rain, the winged varmits walked and flew from the brush in toothless anticipation of the bright yellow corn at the feeder.

Then the suckas clucked their gossip, while dancing their head bobbin' crooked walk to and fro with no rhyme or reason, until they was out of sight in the distant back woods????

Yep, no shot, no meat?

Unloaded the protein collection device and figgered would blast some feathers another day.

Looked back and the teasin' rascals was sash-shayin' back into view as if to tempt the fate of gun powder driven lead yet again?????

Wright City boys know that free groceries don't come to the table every day so the ranch hand ratcheted a bullet in the carbine one mo' time and drew a careful bead on a cocky tom with a seven inch beard.

Squeeze the trigger, which weren't loaded with no sofa pillers, and scratched one male of the gobbler species.

True to their raisin', once the commotion died down, the whole herd of grasshopper wranglers gathered round the dearly departed and held a (clucking) eulogy.

Although not one to be greedy, the country rifleman opted to harvest one of the more succulent looking hens as compliment to the first "victim".

Ranch hand: 2
Turkeys: 0

Heat the grease!