Mack banked hard right, let out a howl and barrel rolled down the ravine in pursuit of our Thanksgiving turkey. The bird was fifty yards ahead if he was a foot. With heavy snow on the ground I swore there were a pair of four-buckle-overshoes covering the bird’s feet and stretched to its thighs.
Letting out a whistle, like hailing a cab on Madison avenue, I stared down the gulley to connect with my husband. Yep… There he was… Bottom of the ditch… Buried in a pile of white powder after completing what compares to a “yard-sale” by those who flail on ski slopes.
Poor Mack. His male ego shattered. Again.
With the bird gone it would now be my duty to select a Butterball Premium from the local market. Not the wild bird my husband and I pursued. But there was a tradition to fulfill notwithstanding.
Next on our adventurous list? A holiday trip to Ballard’s Resort. A surprise for the kids, and the closest thing to a “sure-thing” if you want fresh-wild-walleye on the table for Christmas Eve! ... See MoreSee Less