So, as you've seen from the recent pictures I've sent, Chad has become quite the Robin Hood; shooting arrows into the backs of other arrows and whatnot. You also may know by now that he intends to be a hunter. He wants to shoot deer in our back yard and feed his family. The arrangement goes something like this:
-Chad will shoot a deer and take care of the butcher arrangements (I imagine he will hire someone for this)
-I will cook, and try not to think about that sweet bambi face. I have made it quite clear that I want to see nothing until it is wrapped in paper or plastic. This is one of very few "princess complexes" that I possess
Well, this past week he got his chance at a practice shot. He came home for lunch, had a quick cat nap, woke up, kissed me goodbye, walked out the door, walked back in the door, and whispered sweetly in my ear, "There is a turkey pecking at the bumper of my truck." I got up, looked, and sure enough, there it was, pecking away. I think it saw its reflection in the chrome and was getting a little hostile at his identity theft. A moment later Chad saw another one at the end of our cul-de-sac.
My first thought was, "Wow, what are wild turkeys doing in our front yard?!" My second thought, (which was spoken out loud) was , "KILL IT!" I mean, I wanted me some turkey. So, being the wonderful husband Chad is, he started making a decision between his pistol and the bow and arrow. The pistol? In city limits? With our neighbors very close across the street from us? Yeah, he went with the bow.
So, he stepped out into the street so as to have a better shot at the thing. Aim, fire... all I saw were wings flapping, feathers going everywhere, and then Chad shaking his head. I stepped out of the house. After surmising the meaning of my quizzical gaze, he said, "the arrow bounced off the turkey."
I still have no idea how this is possible. Bounced off? I mean, I am not calling Chad a liar by any means, but if that's so, then that's probably not a turkey we want to be eating. Unless I slow cook it for five days straight.
The thing wasn't injured. It just went clucking angrily into the woods (an interesting note; this is the first time I've ever heard turkey sounds, and it definitely sounded more clucky than gobble-y). Chad tried to shoot again but it flapped out of harm's way as he fired. Ah well.
Actually, it's probably for the best that we did not have an early Thanksgiving dinner. I mean, what on earth would we have done with the thing once it was shot? Does a turkey need to be "de-peed?" I also am not willing to pluck feathers. The dog, however; was more than delighted to chase a few stray feathers around the yard. There were plenty of those to go around.