It was the early sixties. I was around seven. It was before you went to the store and bought your butterball turkey. It is was Thanksgiving morning and we were going hunting. We went to Bert Roddenberry's farm, beautiful Wakulla bottom land where years later Joe Hutto would do his study of living with a flock of turkey. He told of the time with the turkey in the book Illumination in the flatwoods and later a PBS movie, My time with the turkey.
Daddy had his Parker double barrel 12 gauge with the ornately engraved barrels. It was given to him by a friend in Kentucky while he was student preaching.
We walked along the Creek bottoms listening and looking for signs. I knew not exactly what, deer or turkey, maybe black bear.
We came to a rise and daddy motioned me to be still. I do remember the time he let me shoot the gun, him holding it behind me, for the recoil would have knocked me flat.
I don’t recall if this was the time but we took aim at a turkey and to our delight hit it. We gathered it up and after showing Mr. Bert, took it home to dress it out. Daddy saved the legs for desk ornaments and the beard.
Upon dressing it mamma baked it and that Thanksgiving day we enjoyed the dinner we bought home.
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