cellini's Diaryland Diary

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Like Thanksgiving in April

Dammit. My agent was supposed to call me this morning to discuss my questions about some things in the book contract and to talk about representation for this possible TV show with the Discovery channel. It is 11:30 and I haven't heard from her yet. What the fuck?

I want this damn contract signed and done. She has taken way too fucking long to review it. Like, a week and a half at least. Its only like 4 pages so what gives? I want everything completely official so I can move ahead with other things. Also every week she waits pushes back the pay day by another week and I'm trying to survive here.

Yesterday I left work a bit early to try to get a 7urkey, since it is spring g0bbler season and my freezer is almost empty. The problem was that I'd forgotten to put either a shotgun or rifle in my trunk that morning. In this state it is legal to hunt 7urkeys with any firearm and I usually prefer a .22 to a shotgun in order to keep from having to pick shot pellets out of our food. However, I did have my .22 target pistol in a case in my trunk. So I thought what the hell, I'll hunt 7urkey with a handgun.

This is not exactly crazy, since that is part of why I own this weapon in the first place. I got it to put on my hip while I'm hunting deer, so that I can take smaller game for food if it presents its self without turning the rabbit or 7urkey into mush with the thirty ought six. I've gone after squirrel and that sort of thing with it but never taken it on a 7urkey hunt per se.

So I get out to my in-laws' place and I've got this stainless steel, long-barreled target pistol. I set up out back and start calling. Sure enough, within maybe 10 or 15 minutes I had a great big older tom step out of the woods about 50 yards away. I prefer to shoot younger, less impressive 7urkeys because they aren't tough and are easy to cook with. But with only one to choose from, I decided to go for it. With the barrel resting on my jacket that I'd bunched up and put on top of a log, I lined up the sights on the turkey's lower neck and squeezed the trigger. The 7urkey flew up into the air and did about half a somersault before recovering his cool and strutting off into the woods as if nothing had happened. I considered taking a second shot as he walked away, but I don't have the confidence to attempt a shot on a moving target with a handgun. With a rifle or shotgun, I might have done it.

After waiting 10 minutes, I stood up and walked over to the site of the hit. I found a few feathers from its neck that had been clipped by the bullet. I *had* in fact put the bullet through the silhouette of the 7urkey's neck, but I was just a bit to the left and missed the actual flesh and bone. Fortunately, there was not a trace of any blood so it isn't out there wounded. Just an educated 7urkey with 3 less feathers than he had the day before.

I wanted to cook a 7urkey this weekend. Bah. But I've got another chance today and if I don't get one this afternoon then I might wake up early to try tomorrow. I put a scoped .22 rifle and a 12 gauge pump in my trunk this morning to have more tools to choose from. But I've been thinking since then that I came close enough with the handgun to merit trying again. It is an interesting challenge, not that I hunt for challenge per se. I'm mostly just after something to eat. Also, if I successfully take a 7urkey with a .22 target pistol then I can write an article about doing that. This would be quite novel and I don't think I've ever seen any other outdoor writer cover the topic.

By the way, I'm spelling 7urkey with a 7 in place of the 't' because I don't want people googling that topic to find this diary.

Now its noon and my agent still hasn't called. I'll call her myself after lunch. Its not like I'm whining about 'when are you going to get me some work.' I have a 20 thousand dollar deal ready to sign here, and a TV project that would probably add up to over a hundred thousand if it actually happened and they gave it a green light for one season. The least she could do is pick up the phone when she says she's going to.

Dammit.

12:18 p.m. - 2010-04-16

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