“Gobble-obble-obble-oble.” A peculiar, but riveting sound that those of us who hunt the wild turkey in the spring strain to hear. Often heard from a ridgetop in the spring of the year. Haunts us as we daydream, once back in the real world of work, timeclocks, and responsibilities. That sound, the gobble, hauls us out of bed at 4 a.m. each morning of the turkey season. Real addicts don’t need an alarm clock but wake from fitful sleep. We hear the…
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