It's not turkey season. Bawhhhhhh! I've got that bird daid to rights...I can drop him like a sack-a-taters and all I have to do is put another 2 ounces of pull on that trigger and PFFT...BAWHOOM! He's RIGHT THERE....perched on the end of my barrel!! And I figger I owe him at least one....mebbe more! (big sigh...lots of remorse...definatly some regret...) I watched as he finally gained some altitude and sailed off for parts unknown..and lowered the hammer and dropped the gun to my side. I stood there contemplating my desire..and no small wrath..and grinned. "Spring Gobbler Season is coming in May... you +++++!" (small pointy things on roses..) For now it was enough to know that I could'a....mebbe should'a. And in my younger outlaw days..would'a! I watched the sunrise that day..the horizon turning from blue-black to shades of salmon-pink..and then the warm yellow as the sun finally crested the horizon. The crick beside me runs cold and makes a shhhhushing sound as the ice forms on the edges. At 8:15a.m. the big male mink waddles by..unaware of my presence. Squirrels scurry about and a flock of resident Canadas fly low enough for me to almost touch. No deer that day..but it didn't matter. It was a good day..the perfect day to start the new year. Audie...the Oldfart...