Member Stories: Killing Big Gobblers After Work
As the hot afternoon sun beat down on my face, a burning bead of sweat rolled its way down my forehead and found its way into my eye. It was a very unseasonably warm mid-May afternoon in Idaho. I had just hustled home from work, jumped into my camo ninja suit, and practically ran up the mountain to my honey hole, where I hoped to bag a late season gobbler. It was hot and dry, and to be honest, I was very much doubting the likelihood of success.