"OK, sit down and listen to me," the old man said.

Two teenage boys and a younger girl sat on logs and rocks around the campfire.

"Tomorrow you're going to hunt turkeys for the first time and it's not going to be easy. Don't you roll your eyes at me, Alvin. I know you and Bob have killed deer but turkeys are much more careful. You can't just sneak up on a gobbler. You've got to do everything perfectly in order to bring him to you. You've got to be perfectly camouflaged and in perfect position."

"I guess our calls have to be perfectly perfect, huh, Grandpa?"

"That's exactly right, Bob. You've got to be … hey! Are you mocking me, young man?"

Bob rolled off his seat but not quickly enough to avoid the pine cone that hit him between the shoulder blades. He got up and dusted himself off, smiling.

"Sorry, Grandpa. I know we're going to have to be per … um, I mean, we're ready."

The old man chuckled. "I know you are. You boys hunt together and I'll take Sarah, here. With a little luck, Sarah will get her first turkey with her new 20 gauge and you boys will bring two in with your bows."

First light found the boys setting up at a likely spot. Before long, a small group of turkeys appeared across a meadow. Alvin gave a soft yelp. All four birds lowered their heads and gobbled.

"They're all males, Bob!" Alvin whispered.

"All right! Keep 'em coming."

He tried, but the birds moved away, following a ridgeline.

"Nuts!" whispered Alvin. "What did I do wrong?"

"Don't know, but do you think we could run out ahead of those birds and ambush them?"

"I don't know. Grandpa says … " Alvin looked closely at his brother, laughed softly, then grabbed his gear and began to run, parallel to the ridgeline. Bob followed closely.

Twenty minutes later, Alvin stopped, breathing hard. "If they stay on the ridgeline, they should show up here soon. I'll be quiet this time and maybe they'll walk up close."

"Sounds like a plan," Bob said.

The boys arranged themselves along the turkeys' probable route, hiding behind a fallen oak tree. Half an hour later Bob woke when a branch hit his arm. "OUCH!" His yell elicited a loud, if distant gobble.

"Can't you wake up without screaming?" Alvin asked.

"Can't you throw something smaller than a car? That hurt!"

"Shhh. They're coming right to us. Guess they like your yelling better than my turkey calls."

"What are we going to do?" Bob asked.

"When they are close enough we'll both draw, and shoot when I count to three. I'll take the first one; you take one of the others."

"OK, but remember, Alvin, everything's got to be perfect."

"Shut up."

And so it happened. Four careless gobblers wandered into bow range of two excited young men. Arrows were launched according to plan but only one hit its mark, and even then, not exactly.

"I missed," said Bob dejectedly.

"I got mine," yelled Alvin, "right through the head."

Sure enough, his turkey thrashed around with an arrow protruding from both sides of its head.

Bob was just congratulating his brother when the turkey leaped to its feet and began running away, arrow and all. There was little to do but give chase. An arrow sticking sideways through its head proved inconvenient for the gobbler and the boys were able to keep up, if not actually grab hold.

"How come he's not dead?" Bob wheezed, as he slashed through the brush.

"Guess the arrow missed his brain," Alvin theorized at full speed.

"You shot a broadhead, right? How could it have missed his brain?"

"Cause his brain's the size of a pea." Alvin answered. "Don't forget that broadhead is still sticking out. Don't hurt yourself when we catch it."

It was nearly evening when the old man and his granddaughter walked into camp. The two boys sat smiling at the fire.

"How'd you do, Grandpa?"

Sarah spoke up first. "We were doing fine. Grandpa brought a big gobbler in and I was just getting ready to shoot when Grandpa sneezed and it flew off!"

"Sneezed! You sneezed?"

The old man hung his head. "Sometimes old bodies play tricks on you," he said. "I can see you've got a bird hanging. What happened?"

"Oh, nothing much," Alvin said. "We set it up like you showed us, a turkey came in and I shot him."

"Why aren't you letting Bob talk? And why do you both look like you've been dragged through a berry patch? And what is that thing sticking out of your turkey's head? C'mon, Sarah, let's get some dinner … and then I want the truth."

"We did it just like you said, Grandpa, and then we adjusted," Bob said, laughing. "It was perfect."

Pat Wray can be reached at patwray@comcast.net.