After utilizing my great-grandfather's shotgun to harvest my first turkey, my celebration in the field was cut short when a thunderstorm blew aggressively across the Midwest. I wish I could properly articulate how I felt crossing through the woods, listening for their distant calls, and hearing the sound of their wings. Turkey hunting has now consumed a huge piece of my heart, and my mind is already scrambled. I'm planning ahead how I’ll spend my next spring chasing after them. For now, I’m left to count down the days until I get back out there.
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