It has always been a tradition to go hunting on Thanksgiving. Lots of families across Montana pack up and head to the hills in the morning and pray they can make it back in time for dinner, with fresh meat.
My Thanksgiving started off just like that. We woke up to a small amount of fresh snow. Made our way out to the mountain in search of fresh track. After a good hike and a gorgeous view of some amazing country, I worked up a solid appetite for the “main event.”
Overheard at the dinner table, “don’t get anything in front of me you don’t want chewed on.” After a sad attempt at going back for thirds and then being forced to eat pie, I had a hard time keeping my eyes awake for the evening hunt.
I somehow managed to slap my face enough to fight off the nap and slowly get my boots back on. While sitting on the porch of my in laws ranch, I noticed a flock of turkey feeding in the pasture. I casually finished tying my boots. Grabbed my .22 and filled my turkey tag on turkey day. I tagged him and then jumped in the truck to try and squeeze in some elk hunting before dark. A well rounded Thanksgiving.
I may not have shot the bird with a musket while wearing a buckle on my felt hat, but I think the pilgrims would have been proud. Nothing is more satisfying and ironic than bagging a turkey on turkey day.
Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours this Thanksgiving