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Paw Paw's turkey hunt One of the great passtimes in Fulton, Alabama in 1958 was hunting. Bud Brown- Paw Paw- was one of the town's great enthusiasts and he fully intended to make me one also. I was totally in favor of that plan and as a boy often I awoke many mornings to hear the tap, taptaping on my window before day break. One cold November morning I awoke to that familiar sound and I quickly dressed and met Paw Paw just outside in his black 1954 Chevy. The ground gave a crackle as I walked across the yard, for the moisture in the soil had frozen and spewed up making the ground crunchy. The chilling gust of wind was nothing compared to the frigid feel of those plastic seat covers as I slid across them. As we pulled out of the driveway the excitement was palatable for we were off on another adventure. The old dirt road towards Uncle Jack's place at Chilton was deserted. As we made our way slowly into the back woods of Clarke County we rounded the bend and squarelv in the center of the road sat six big, beautiful turkeys. Pulling to an abrupt halt we stepped out of the car holding our fully loaded shotguns. With the cocking of the guns the turkeys took flight. "Shoot, boy, Shoot," shouted Paw Paw. My aim was sure as I took a bead on the lead turkey. Then came deafening sounds of the first boom and close behind that another boom. My bird had fallen across the fence in Mr. Davis' pasture, while Paw Paw's had fallen in the road. I quickly rushed to the fence and climbed between the barbed wire strands. Searching the ground where I had seen the bird fall I caught a glimpse of the fine feathered turkey with the black beard that hung beneath his chin. Rushing to him I grabbed hold of his feet and I struggled to drag him to the fence. Then with great trouble I pulled him under the fence and into the road. Letting his feet go, he fell to the ground as I caught my breath while gazing up the road where Paw Paw's car had set. There was no car to be seen and there was no Paw Paw. Trusting that he would be back soon I picked up the bird's feet and dragged him toward Uncle Jack's house. In a few minutes sure enough the black Sedan rounded the bend and abruptly stopped next to me. Paw Paw swiftly got out and rushing to the rear of the automobile, he opened the trunk. Then grabbing the large bird from my hands he slung it into the trunk and slammed the trunk shut. "Hurry boy, let's get going." Paw Paw hastily got behind the wheel while I climbed inside and slammed the door. The turkey he had shot was no where to be seen, and that with the odd action of my Grandpa made me ask. "Paw Paw where is your turkey?" As he glanced over at me I noticed the sweat that had popped out of his brow. "Son I killed a hen by mistake and hid it in Jack's barn. We can't let the game warden know about the bird or I'll get a fine." Seeing that Paw Paw was decidedly flustered I sat quietly as we hurried toward Uncle Jack's. Pulling up the drive then behind Jack's old barn I noticed the old gentleman as he appeared out the back door. Decidedly taller and leaner than Paw Paw and with boots untied he crossed the yard toward the car as we climbed out. Uncle Jack pulled his suspender onto his shoulder and seeing Paw Paw's haste he asked, "Bud what in tar nation are you up to?" "Jack I done killed a hen turkey and I hid it in your barn." Almost out of breath from excitement Paw Paw continued. "I got to get it home and cleaned before I'm found out." Then nodding in my direction he said with pride. "Brown's boy here shot a big one, it's in the trunk." Then as his chest swelled he added. "He's a crack shot." A smile came over Paw Paw's face and I smiled back at him knowing that he was proud of me. I watched as the two inspected my bird and accepted the praise from the two seasoned hunters. I stood quietly nearby as the two men pulled the wooden barn door open. The early morning sun shone on the black feathers of a fine turkey lying on the barn's floor. Jack moved closer to the bird and going down on one knee picked up the turkey's head, as he did the bright sunshine illuminated from the tiniest black beard underneath the animal's head. "Bud you ain't got no hen here. This bird's a gobbler." Jack held the head back so the beard could be seen by Bud. With a great sigh of relief Paw Paw moved closer to inspect the bird. Moving his glasses further up on his nose as he squinted I saw the crinkles around his eyes as he began to smile. After a few laughs and some of Aunt Lillie's biscuits we climbed back into the black Sedan to head for home. Paw Paw chewed on a big plug of tobacco and we laughed about the hunt and the missing turkey's beard as the Chevy chugged on down the road. Suddenly he turned and spit a mouthful of tobacco juice right at the window without realizing the window wasn't down. The brown juice smeared down the glass and I was on the verge of laughing when he turned to me with the most serious look. "Son if you ever tell anybody I did that I'll whoop you good." Then the slightest grin came over his face and I knew it was alright to laugh.
Linda Garrison Brown's Fulton Tales are based on stories from her husband, Randall Brown, who grew up in Fulton. The Browns live in Northport.
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