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    Guns In America: Tools, Toys and Symbols
    Guns In America: Tools, Toys and Symbols
    Guns In America: Tools, Toys and Symbols
    Ebook37 pages33 minutes

    Guns In America: Tools, Toys and Symbols

    By O. T. Sylvester

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    About this ebook

    A traditional hunting trip in rural America becomes the setting for both a story about spring turkey hunting as well as an examination of the unique place which guns have in American culture.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBookBaby
    Release dateJul 1, 2014
    ISBN9781483531212
    Guns In America: Tools, Toys and Symbols

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      Book preview

      Guns In America - O. T. Sylvester

      9781483531212

      Chapter One

      It was the first morning of the spring turkey hunting season. The four men had risen early, prepared themselves, and left the old farmhouse in darkness not yet softened by a rising sun. They walked slowly along the edge of the field of winter wheat in a northerly direction.

      Carrying their shotguns, they made their way through the darkness carefully and quietly. They were not young men. Unhurried in their movements, they were sure, slow and deliberate – seasoned by their years. There was no talking. Soft footfalls and the rustle of rough clothing marked the only sound of their passing. Rain was predicted, and they had dressed for it.

      At the end of the field, two of the men veered off to the west toward a treeline which was not yet visible. Arriving at the treeline, they separated and gradually became a part of the dark shapeless woods.

      The remaining two men continued north across an abutting hayfield until they neared the river. It was a small river, but sufficient in size to constitute an impenetrable barrier. They turned west and followed the river and its brushline toward the dark treeline. Like their companions, they separated slowly and became a part of the darkness in a choreographed movement of many years practice.

      Each of the men made their way to their respective positions in the dark woods. One climbed into an old deer stand. Another crept into an opening in a large brushpile. The remaining two men had settled in at the foot of old oak trees of long acquaintance in different parts of the wood. Each knew where the other men were posted. Although dressed in camouflage gear and almost invisible against the woodland backdrop, there would be no mistakes in the morning hunt. They had developed practices about which there were no arguments or deviations. Before moving from their respective positions, they would don a cap the color of hunter orange. Then a soft whistle in a code of long usage. A responding whistle, if any, would guide them in their movements.

      A peal of distant thunder triggered the gobble of a turkey perched in the high sycamore trees which leaned from the bluff over the river. Each man heard the gobble, and each man relaxed into himself at the familiar sound knowing that the world was as it had always been, that it was real, the day was coming, and the spring turkey hunting ritual had begun.

      The rain came gently and slowly. At first, it came and went in brief showers. The men held fast. They were prepared for the rain. The thunder came closer. It grew louder and more ominous, accompanied by flashes of bright, white lightning. Still the men held fast.

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