A high percentage of trappers are also turkey hunters. I’m guilty. Last June, my friend Ron Jolly invited about a dozen veteran (okay, old) turkey hunters to a weekend get-together. Purpose: get reacquainted, eat good food, swap lies.
And we did. Crawfish boil/fish fry/beer-and-lies-around-the-campfire — the whole redneck catastrophe. But we had serious discussions, too, with this consensus: things are
