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Championship and prevented me from hunting.
Sunday evening, I waited for the phone call from Eric. Finally, he called and told me of being surrounded by turkeys on Saturday morning, but was not able to pick out a gobbler. Our patience was being tested — his and mine, as I felt I had been there alongside him each trip! He has an ability to bring you right into his story as he describes the sunrise and the distant woodpecker sounding so much like a distant gobble.
The following week was occupied by a long canoe trip and-a last minute plan to drive to Wachapreague to fish for flounder. Whew, what a week!
Nevertheless, as we fished in the ocean off Wachapreague Saturday morning at daylight, my mind drifted to the woods near Eric’s home where I hoped he would get a crack at that wise old gobbler that had kept so quiet.
Sunday evening, as I waited for my friend to call, I hoped that he had at least seen a gobbler. Because he had worked so hard at it, he really deserved one.
Finally Eric called, “Mr. McMeans, you’re not going to believe this, because I still don’t!”
“What?” I asked.
Eric then told me, “I got him. He weighed 21 pounds, has a 12-inch beard and 1‘/4-inch spurs — a real old gobbler.”
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