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Plucking Pheasants

Updated: Sep 23

Long days in the marsh deserve happy endings. And after the gear has been stowed, waders hung, and birds cleaned, the hunters of Boca-Chobee Flats typically gather to recount the day and watch the sky for the evening movement of birds.

Early in the season, moments like this are often the first time some of us have gathered together on site, and this reason alone is usually enough to fire-up conversation, recollections, and storytelling. Add to the mix a post-hunt libation and the tongues might begin to wag a little more than usual.

Now I’m not at liberty to name names. It wouldn’t be polite. But the spousal unit of a certain club member is known to be a bit loquacious, and her wit and tongue is quick enough most of the men seldom go toe-to-toe either due to chivalry or fear. Which is why the seemly harmless but strategic deployment of an adult beverage can be a great equalizer. Also, let it be known the person in question will get tipsy with only aerosol application of anything alcoholic, so quantity of consumption is not really even a consideration.

On one early season post-hunt gathering, lore and other stories of old brought the boys around to a tale about an old friend, a tongue twister, and the challenge of repeating this eloquently crafted chronicle.

As the Colonel set the stories’ historical context, he carefully recalled the collocation of words. Some of us dabbled with the recital, but immediately encountered the obvious problem made worse when the tongue and brain intersect with words assembled for the singular purpose of making one look foolish, alcohol notwithstanding. The aforementioned spouse, nevertheless, cast caution and impairment to the wind and accepted the challenge. It is here where this story will end with a simple acknowledgement – she gave it a good try, an effort and challenge to be recalled again when the time is right, and everyone needs a laugh.

I'm a mother pheasant plucker. I pluck mother pheasants. I'm the most pleasant mother pheasant plucker that's ever-plucked mother pheasants. –Author unknown

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