Scouting

 

Scouting

Each step produces a snapping sound,

Of breaking twigs upon the ground,

Add to that the crunching noise,

Of dried leaves and little boys,

This symphony is not complete,

Without the percussion of their little feet,

Stomping through the woods on a spring day,

Picking up sticks and without delay,

Launching them as far as their little arms will throw,

Over fallen branches and trees they go,

With a bed of pine needles cushioning an occasional fall,

The young boys practice their best turkey call,

Chartreuse-colored moss is growing here and there,

Then their uncle stops them and makes them aware,

Wild turkey is spotted in the clearing up ahead,

Distinctively strutting with their wattle of red,

The boys are elated to see these bearded creatures,

With wide fanned tails and other comical features,

The gobblers are spooked and make their retreat,

But the siting has made their afternoon complete,

An adventure in the woods has been a successful quest,

To find a tom turkey with his protruding chest,

Strutting around in search of a mate,

A scouting trip designed for a future date,

When their uncle will return all alone,

And shoot a turkey of his very own.

Tammy Harvey

10/22/2022