Read more
Zusatztext 68822406 Informationen zum Autor Bill Heavey is an editor-at-large for Field & Stream and the author of three previous books: You're Not Lost if You Can Still See the Truck ; If you Didn't Bring Jerky, What Did I Just Eat? ; and It's Only Slow Food Until You Try to Eat It . His work has appeared in numerous publications, including Men's Journal , Outside , Washington Post , New York Times Magazine , and Los Angeles Times . He lives in Maryland. Klappentext From a celebrated writer on the outdoors, hilarious stories about the joys and pitfalls of hunting, fishing, family, and adventure Vorwort Targeted outreach to outdoor media online reviews and features online promotion (www.billheavey.com) Leseprobe We descended into the deep ravine and climbed up the other side. It was getting late. We were walking along a flat, brushy hilltop, looking for birds, when Budz grabbed my arm. The toms, 20 yards ahead of us and just coming into view, had no idea we were there. “Shoot!” Budz said. Then he pleaded, “Please shoot those turkeys!” I shouldered the gun and realized I had two red heads lined up perfectly in my sights. The world slowed. Even I knew this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. But whoever had commandeered my body decided that it was a good time to practice flinching. My shot hit the ground 10 yards in front and 10 yards to the left of the birds. Hevi-Shot, incidentally, is devastating on dirt, at least in South Dakota. The turkeys spread their wings languidly and glided down the long hill we’d just scaled, back into the thick woods. Budz said nothing and walked off a few yards to be by himself. He was facing away from me. His head and torso were bobbing rhythmically, like a man banging his head against an imaginary wall. It reminded me of the TV footage you see of people at the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem. A strange thought coursed through my brain. Maybe they’ll put up a Wailing Wall in South Dakota in my honor . The bobsled run was over for the day. I had just medaled in the Loser Olympics. I felt for Budz. He had done nothing for the past 15 hours but try to spoon-feed me chip shots at wild turkeys. My only part in all this was to aim a stick at the birds and then move my right index finger. That, obviously, had proved too complex a task. Zusammenfassung From a celebrated writer on the outdoors, hilarious stories about the joys and pitfalls of hunting, fishing, family, and adventure...
