My hands gripped the barrel of my semiautomatic shotgun tightly, as I
sat back against a beech tree, waiting for my prey. Dusk was steadily
approaching, the light fading into a dull, autumnal grey over upstate
New York. As the fatigue of an eight-hour hunt in temperatures hovering
just above freezing set in, it was clear that this would be my last
chance of the day to shoot a wild turkey.
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