"Qee-e e p" and rustle among the leaves. Mockingbirds
singing in the distance. Small flocks of Doves
darting overhead flying out to the fields from
their roosts. A pair of Carolina Wrens, both with
their bills filled with pine needles, came to my log
heap and finding me in possession scolded vigorously
awhile, then retreated. Once I thought I heard
the sharp quit of a Turkey but it was doubtless
the result of imagination. Finally the report of
Hartsfield's gun broke in on the still air with
a crashing roar which echoed through the trees.
A few minutes later he fired again. I then
started for the house flushing & killing a Meadow
Lark on the way. The ground in the oat field
was literally covered with Turkey tracks.
  After an hour or so Hartsfield appeared looking
very crestfallen. He had found the Turkey roost
in some cypresses by the river just as the  birds
were leaving it. He saw seven fly down and
alight in the bush. Following them he flushed
one within [?] yds. getting an easy cross shot but
missing or rather only breaking one of its legs.
A little later he got a long shot at another that
flew from a tree.
  About noon we went together to the river, I on
horseback. Hartsfield called many times in vain.
Twice a Turkey gobble-obble-obbled in the distance
but it would not come. The bush alive with
Towhees & Thrushes. Much ground palmetto here.
Logs along the river crowded with turtles.
  Drove back to town late in p.m. after skinning
my Turkey. Saw nothing of interest on the way.