Second little short story I wrote. Let me know what you think.
LD and the Clear drinking Turkey
Every year about this time I hear some story of a hunter that gets truly whipped by an old gobbler. I love these stories as I, among the absolutely odd group of driven turkey hunters, truly admire a turkey that can and does lay a whooping on an experienced old turkey hunter.
These stories always remind me of a true turkey whipping extraordinaire of another sort.
Years ago I moved to the mountains of NE Georgia. I was around 10 years old or so and thought I pretty much was as country and tough as they come.
By about fight number six at my new elementary school I had learned a thing or two about these Georgia mountain boys. Number 1. They always swing first 2. There isn't a yellow bone in their body and 3. bruises and cuts made them proud.
It took me awhile but after scrapping with a corn fed Ga boy named LD jr a couple of times I was accepted into the motley gang of back woods youngins. I felt at home and at peace finally.
LD Jr became one of my best friends and was the real deal when it came to Appalachian living. He lived in a cabin/shed of sorts, together with his Dad LD sr, his mother, a brother and a sister. I was told never ever to look at his sister funny or to be mean to her or she would whoop me worse than any boy could. I believed it as well. Their water was from a well, their heat from a fire, their meat from a smoke house.. you get the picture, liquor from the still.
It was normal to see LD getting dropped off at our school house out of the banged up bed of his Dads pickup truck. His dogs some Treeing Walkers and Redbones always rode with him in the back. I reckon LD preffered to ride back there with them but I never asked. My Dad ran the local sawmill so I was usually the first to show up at the school house which left LD and I with about an hour and a half before the bell rang. Sometimes we would amble down to the local pool hall where the keeper would allow us to shoot a game or two before school started. At any rate as time went on LD Jr and I got to be pretty good buddies. I was certainly loving living the true backwoods life with him and his family whenever possible.
On my first overnight trip to LD Jrs house I learned that LD Sr loved to make shine and more than that he loved to drink a lot of that clear stuff. He would usually stop drinking about the same time he would get all giggly like.. Unlike most of the men around these parts LD Sr was a happy drunk, or at least most of the time. Like most on the drunk he was accident prone and was always a hoot right up until he would mash his thumb or something along those lines. When something like this happened to LD Sr while on the clear such as banging his head or mashing his thumb he would turn on a dime and his happy soul would turn devilish in a eyes blink.
The first time I saw him completely flip was one morning on a overnight bush hooking trip where he banged the meat off his big toe after he dropped a big cast iron skillet. I think he was making us some kilt lettuce and bacon craklins with eggs, can't recall but I do remember that mans cooking it was top knotch! Being it was pretty early in the morning and the fact that we had been up most of the night listening to LD Sr and his buddies by the fire he was still under the clears spell and had the smell to him if you know what I mean. Well no sooner than than that skillet had hit his toe than he already scruffed up LD jr and tossed him like a corn husk doll. I was soon to follow. We both tumbled to a stop and went running for the river bank.
Most of the time we spent together was nothing but pure fun. We coon hunted, fought roosters, coon hunted some more, deer hunted, squirrel hunted, set bush hooks, raised cattle and hogs, ringed noses, slaughtered and smoked everything. It was great. In all that time LD Sr never did hit or slap either of us but he would occasionally scruff us up pretty bad. He was always real sorry for it about two days later after a clear liquor drunk. He always wanted to buy us something to make up for it. I won't lie we were both pretty tough and figured out the routine pretty quick. We got some cool cowboy hats , bullets, belt buckles, pocket knifes and even some Redbone pups and other stuff by acting like we was still a little shy around him.
Well one day during the spring my buddy LD Jr didn't show up for school. Our folks were a lot alike in that you went to school no matter what unless you were dead and gone so I got to worrying about him a little bit. Come day two he still hadn't shown and I knew something was bad wrong.
Then on day three LD Srs truck pulls up and out jumps LD Jr looking as weak as I had ever seen him. He just kinda walked passed me up to the school yard steps without speaking and sat down. His head was held low.
I remember thinking Ohh man his Daddy has done put a bad whippin on him this time. I sat there for a little bit then got up, went over to him on the stairs and asked where he had been.
I will never forget the scene that unfolded when he looked up at me.. Both eyes were blood shot, like real blood shot and deep red where normally the whites should be. Both eyes were also near swollen shut and blacked out around the edges. He had a huge scratch down his forehead with Blue Kote poured all over it and some saddle stitching holding it together. His nose was all crusty and scabbed over. His cheeks and forearms were all welted up like from a leather strop. I couldn't believe my eyes. He looked near death. I felt so danged bad for him. My heart really hurt and I was mad as all hades at his pops.
I just sat there in horror thinking whatever he had done must have been pretty bad to take on a whooping like that. I finally worked up my courage, swallowed hard and asked my best friend what had happened.
I kid you not with a big hummmppph and a long sigh he told me this:
My dumb old Dad couldn't hit the broadside of a barn. He called up this big old Tom Turkey over on the back side of Bear Mountain Saturday morning. Well he took a shot at him and crippled him. He was a running off right good with feathers flying everywhere about the same time Daddy yelled for me to run him down. So I gott up and take off down the side of the mountain and I tackled that wobbly old Gobbler real good like. He went on to say it was the worst tumbling, scratching, fist fighting, eye gouging fight he had ever been in and that he was terrified of letting go of whatever he had a hold to and freeing it up. He said it already seemed like six men were beating him with sticks and rocks from all sides and that he was afraid that if he turned loose another 7 men might join in. He finally managed to let go and the Turkey ran off down the mountain.
LD stopped talking for abit while I sat in disbelief looking at the battle scars the old Gobbler had laid on him. He then looked at me real serious like with his swollen bloodied, scratched and bruised face and in a low , quiet very serious tone said ..buddy, if someone ever tells you to run down and jump on a crippled Turkey.. I wouldn't be doing that if I were you.
True story.
