This is the second of a two-part humor story about hunting turkeys.

Washington State did not have a turkey hunting season in the 1960s, the time frame for this story. Still Rich and I found an ample amount of turkeys in Moses Lake. Today we backtrack a bit and then continue the tale of the search for turkeys.

"There's got to be some kind of turkey for us to bag," I said.

"I'll give you a dollar for every turkey you identify between now and Thanksgiving," Dad said confidently.

Our language consisted of turkey hunting lingo and turkey facts for the rest of the month of September, the month of October and the first three weeks of November. And we bagged turkeys, too.

First we went to the library and studied the who, what, when, where and why of turkeys. We learned that Benjamin Franklin suggested the turkey be the American symbol instead of the eagle. It took Rich and me three days to recover from the speculation of this thought.

We already knew Turkey was a country, but we also learned about other turkeys during our studies. In order to make the hunt for turkeys more authentic, we decided to dress like real turkey hunters.

Neither Rich nor I actually owned camo outfits, so we bought magic markers; brown, green, black and yellow in color. I have to admit it was my idea to color our white T-shirts with the markers, but it was Rich's idea to use the markers on our faces, "like the real turkey hunters."

Our first stop was the Lake Bowl where we attracted an unusual amount of curious looks as we rented shoes and were assigned an alley in our camo outfits.

"Just lookin' for turkeys," I told the lady sitting nearby with her mouth open.

We were in the middle of the first line when a young lady happened by holding a fussing child.

"How old is your son?" I asked.

"He'll be 13-months old next Wednesday," she replied.

"He's a Jake. Means a buck for me," I said to Rich.

Rich then scored a third strike in a row.

"Ha! Look a turkey," he said.

Three people glanced our way with an annoyed look.

"Must be turkeys," Rich said and claimed those three, plus the bowling turkey to make four bucks worth of turkeys.

We finished bowling and drove to the turkey shoot sponsored by a local sporting goods store.

The rules were simple; break five clay pigeons in a row and win a turkey.

Many of our classmates were there as we got out of the car still dressed in full camo gear.

"Look at those turkeys," Jerry Lester said to Ron Sumner.

"I guess that's one dollar for you and one for me," Rich said as we checked in with the officials of the shoot.

Rich and I each received a turkey for our shooting efforts that afternoon. In fact, I think all shooters left with a turkey, that's just the type of shoot it was; everyone wins.

Rich and I collected $11 turkey money from dad that evening "To go into a collective pot for taking dates to dinner and a movie," we reasoned.

It took three weeks of scrubbing to take off the magic marker colors, but Rich and I wore the colors as a badge of dedicated turkey hunters. To this day, neither Rich nor I have shot a wild turkey, but we know a turkey when we see one.

Have a happy Thanksgiving.

Epilogue

The wild turkey population did not expand right away when the birds were first transplanted in Washington State. Today, however, the bird is considered a nuisance by some landowners, with flocks of 50 to 100 a common sight in the northeastern part of the state.

Hunters are currently allowed to tag up to seven birds a year. Some of the birds are required to be beardless, hens, as a method of controlling the population.

Although I have never notched seven tags in a year, four of the large birds have been eaten at my table during a winter. They are delicious.

This is one of a collection of humor stories scheduled to be published next year.

-Dennis