We were looking for hogs, somewhere in West Texas, in a Pinzgauer, eyes peeled and guns hot. Off to the left, slight movement, not pigs but turkey, three or four of them, a couple of hens and a tom. Out! sight on the birds.
Quick, they're starting to fly. Crack, someone's got a shot off. Feathers drift in the near distance and we move forward to see if the bird was down. It was.
|stand on a stool or something, LSP|
Shot with a Winchester 70 30-06, of all things. Good work. Back at the ranch house we breasted the bird and that was that, it went into the freezer. Until last night.
The Turk found itself in a dutch oven, potatoes went into another oven and a Glock somehow made its way onto the mahogany. Did the Turk taste good?
Sure it did, and the firearm proved itself a stable home defender. You better believe no one crept in under the perimeter. And that was that.