Let me break it off for you: Frank and I have been getting wind F-ed all morning – nothing is talking – nothing wants to die. We jump in the truck and cruise over to a new honeyhole – completely untouched as of day 2 of the season. On the drive over we pig out on some grilled turkey bombs wrapped in cream cheese, bacon, and jalapenos. No Busch Light or High Life yet – can’t celebrate until the ninjey clock strikes high noon.
We run and gun the new spot like it is our job – BECAUSE IT IS! Can’t get a bird to strike to save our ninja lives. Clock says 11:15am and we have one creek bed left to check – Frankie turns to me and says ( true story – ninjas never lie ) “I just said a ninja prayer Rob – it is going to happen in this spot”
Ninja Gods must have missed the prayer – we call for 10 minutes – and nothing answers. Tails tucked, we start the walk of shame to the truck – BOOM – bird hits right in the creek bed we just left.
Half hour til’ noon and the fat lady still hasn’t sung. Bird runs like O.J. into the bottom – starts his last strutting activity at about 150yds – wants his lady friend to come to him – a real man’s man to say the least. Clock is ticking – my watch reads 11:45am – he wants it but doesn’t want to work for it.
IT IS NOW OR NEVER – I judge him at 50yds – the GOLDEN TICKET is released.
Ticket PUNCHED – he does a Triple Lindey into the creek and doesn’t move – the water runs red in
How old is he? As old as he’s going to get Ol’ Boy. We had to know for sure – rangefinders don’t lie – 64yds.
Ground Round - Out
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