Billy and the Turkey
Shoot
A Thanksgiving Story
By Danny Tillman
The Great Turkey
The master turkey shooter laid down the Sharps and yelled, "TOSS THE TURKEY !" A 20-pound turkey came air-borne-and -flapping over the top of the dirt hill and flew rapidly toward the board fence at first……then spying the humans below, it veered off to its left……did a 180…and began heading for the pines and the palmettos in the opposite direction…directly away from the master shooter. The turkey was getting smaller to the sight by the second, as the turkey shooter turned and looked at Billy, "NOW SON!" Billy threw the .22… then the ammunition… at the shooter. The expert rifleman caught the gun, and the shells…loaded…placed the box on the table…aimed and fired…The turkey kept going. But its flight path jumped suddenly to the left-and-up…as the bullet from Uncle Rufus' rifle whizzed under the bird's right wing. The shooter mumbled matter-of-factly, "Shootin' a mite to th' right-an'-low."
He lowered the rifle, held his finger up, "Slight breeze from the ocean," and loaded the single-shot .22 with another long-rifle cartridge…aimed at the flying turkey which was now just a speck in the sky…and fired.
The five onlookers weren't sure if they were imagining it or not, but they thought they saw the speck begin to drop toward the ground… Flying objects such as birds and airplanes, when flying directly away from an observer, seem to lose altitude anyway as they approach the horizon, hence they could only guess. But the mysterious shooter pulled back the bolt, which sent the spent shell flying out, reached for the box of live rounds, and carried it and the rifle and handed it back to Uncle Rufus, "Don't worry 'bout the turkey, folks. That last shot hit home. My coon houn's'll track it down where it fell and the helpers'll bring it back in no time. Nice shootin' iron you got their, son."
"Thanks," said Uncle Rufus, and they could hear the baying of the dogs as they began running off after the turkey. "Since my helpers are off chasing the dogs, y'all mind helping me clear my guns and table out of here? I b'lieve th'marshal wonts to call in the next shoot yourselfer or the next have someone do it for youer," laughed Billy, and they all laughed. The men folks grabbed the guns and table. With the ladies walking beside them, they headed for the far end of the fence as the firing line marshal was yelling, "Shoot Yourselfer! Advance to the X!"