Dang this drop-foot that snagged (again) some small tree branch hidden under a vernier of last fall’s fallen leaves.
A curse to be sure under any circumstances, much less on a morning set aside for turkey hunting. The last thing a gobbler needed was to hear an “oooff” and the subsequent thump of my collapsed body on the forest floor. Such is the lot in my life where age has overtaken the heart’s desires. Now when I walk a trail and make straight a path into a woods, I must rely on a hiking staff, sometimes two.
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