A raft of turkeys have been scratching for food in the fields of late. Nearly every day they bounce across the prairie-like landscape with their peculiar strut, their light colored heads bobbing up and down as the sun reflects off their dark feathered bodies. As many as a dozen have been gleaning mother nature's bounty.
Sandy and I got on the RZR and cruised the shaded perimeter of the wood line and circled the peaceful face of the pond. Then we took the cool, shadowy, tree canopied woods road down toward Standing Boy Creek. It's nearly dry now, a mere trickle, shouldered on either side by golden sandbars and gnarled roots that protrude from the banks.
It's all a prelude to a great weekend. Josh arrives later tonight. Over the next couple of days he and I will thread through the cross-stitch of trails amid the 1200 acres that surround us.
Sometimes this spot on God's earth seems too good to be true…