He was coming in hot, gobbling his fool head off. In his lusty rush, he didn’t even notice as I snaked the barrel of the Remington 870 out the window of the blind and took a careful aim. At about ten yards from the blind, he stretched his neck to gobble one last time, and I covered his head with the muzzle and squeezed the trigger.
Here’s where things get a little odd… at least to me.
The gun went off, just as it always does. The blast caused me to blink, as it always does. And when my vision cleared, as it always does, the bird should have been laying there flopping its last… as they always do.
Except, as you may have gathered by now things didn’t go the way they always do. In fact, from the time I pulled the trigger, nothing went exactly as it always does.



