4 THE WILD TURKEY AND ITS HUNTING 



there were numbers of wild turkeys, and I can 

 well remember my brother Frank's skill in calling 

 them. Every spring as the gobbling season ap- 

 proached my brothers and myself would construct 

 various turkey calls and lose no opportunity 

 for practising calling the birds. I can recall, 

 too, when but a mere lad, coming down from 

 my room in the early morning to the open 

 porch, and finding assembled the family and 

 servants, including the little darkies and the 

 dogs, all in a state of great excitement. I has- 

 tened to learn the cause of this and was shown 

 with admiration a big gobbler, and as I looked 

 at the noble bird, with its long beard and glossy 

 plumage, lying on the porch, I felt it was a 

 beautiful trophy of the chase. 



"Who killed it?" I asked. "Old Massa, he 

 kill 'im," came from the mouths of half a 

 dozen excited little darkies. A few days later 

 my brothers brought in other turkeys. This 

 made me long for the time when I would be 

 old enough to hunt this bird, and these happy 

 incidents inspired me with ambition to acquire 

 proficiency in turkey hunting, and to learn 



