Congratulations to my uncle George who, at 8:55 a.m. last Friday from his workstation at the Arkansas Children’s Hospital, logged unto this blog, becoming the 10,000th visitor! He will be receiving a special gift and no, it won’t be an “I Bleed Orange” t-shirt!
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By the time many of you read this on Monday, Allan Stanglin and I will be headed north on I-35 for the Metroplex and the Rangers season opener. The Boston Red Sox come to town and the game features a classic pitching match-up: Curt Schilling for the Red Sox and Kevin Millwood for the Rangers.
Tonight, I was all pumped to get home and watch the season opener on ESPN2 between the White Sox and the Indians. Hearing Jon Miller and Joe Morgan call the Sunday evening game, after a full day of teaching, preaching and interacting with people is immensely therapeutic for me.
But alas, after I got my chores done for Mandy who is hosting the girls Bunco group at our house tomorrow night, I turned on the game to discover...a rain delay!
With the opening of baseball season, I’m sure you’ve been waiting with baited breath for my picks. Here goes: AL East – New York Yankees; AL Central – Chicago White Sox; AL West – Oakland Athletics; AL Wild Card – Boston Red Sox; AL Champion – New York Yankees. NL East – New York Mets; NL Central – St. Louis Cardinals; NL West – San Francisco Giants; NL Wild Card – Atlanta Braves; NL Champion – New York Mets.
A Mets/Yankees World Series? As much as it pains me to predict it, that is my gut instinct. Give the ring back to George and the Yankees.
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I just noticed on my desk calendar that opening day for spring turkey season in Arkansas is April 8th, which just happens to be the anniversary of my first ever successful solo turkey hunt. This particular April 8th was before the start of Daylight Savings Time and the two-year old was harvested by 6:00 a.m.
I remember the hunt as if it were yesterday. It was a Friday morning and the previous day, I had hunted with Cody Mabery. When drove back to his truck, we listened attentively to two gobbling toms on a ridge to the south. Work and school prevented us from hunting any longer but we made plans to meet at that spot the next morning and try to hunt one of the birds at daybreak.
I got to the spot where we were to meet but Cody didn’t show. With dawn beginning to break in the Eastern sky, I decided to drive to the top of the ridge and hunt from the top down. With the late start, I hadn’t even had time to tie the laces on my hunting boots. I eased out of my truck, propped my foot up on the back bumper and began to tie the laces on my hunting boots when a gobbler cut loose. He was about 200 yards downhill and slightly to the west of where I’d parked. I made my way down the hill and set up within about 75 yards of where the turkey was gobbling. He gobbled well. I made some soft tree yelps and he answered them all. I heard the turkey fly down and immediately begin shuffling in the leaves. The gobbling slowed but the unmistakable sound of drumming commenced. He was hot and was ready to breed right off the roost.
The gobbler strutted to within about 30 yards, pirouetting and displaying marvelously. I pulled the trigger at 5:58 a.m.
In the excitement of bagging my first tom solo -- without the help of my dad -- I forgot my box call. I had taken it out of my vest and laid it on the ground beside me. What luck that, one week later while hunting on the same ridge, my dad found the call, the tree I was set up on and the place where the turkey had dropped.
I guess my hope is that the good luck of April 8th on springs gone by will be resurrected this spring, Opening Day 2006!
