Summary

The narrative recounts the author's humorous and unsuccessful attempt at turkey hunting with friends to obtain a vegetarian-friendly Thanksgiving dinner.

Abstract

The author describes an absurd Thanksgiving adventure where they join friends Abigail and Eric on a turkey hunt, driven by Abigail's commitment to only eat meat she has hunted herself after watching a documentary on poultry production conditions. Despite lacking proper hunting gear and experience, the author, armed only with a single fiberglass arrow, embarks on the hunt with enthusiasm. The story unfolds with the group's comedic misadventures in the woods, highlighting the author's inexperience and the absurdity of their situation. The hunt ends in failure, and the group returns to enjoy a vegetarian Thanksgiving dinner, with the author humorously reflecting on their role as the 'doofus' with an arrow.

Opinions

The author seems to hold a humorous and self-deprecating view of their own hunting skills, referring to themselves as a 'doofus' with an arrow.
Abigail's decision to hunt her own meat rather than become a vegetarian suggests a critique of industrial meat production and a preference for a more hands-on, ethical approach to obtaining meat.
The author's description of the 9mm pistol as typically used for home defense or in action movies implies a lack of suitability for hunting small game, possibly mocking the choice of weapon for the hunt.
The narrative conveys a sense of camaraderie and adventure, despite the lack of success in the hunting expedition.
The author appears to be inexperienced and unprepared for hunting, as indicated by their practice throws with the arrow and the realization of its impracticality as a weapon.

Snow White, the Huntsman, and a Doofus Holding an Arrow.

A Thanksgiving Tale of Turkey Trekking Tomfoolery

The mighty huntsman. Photo by Woody Kelly on Unsplash

My first Thanksgiving as an unintentional vegetarian

It’s the day before Thanksgiving, and I’m stalking through the woods, grasping a fiberglass hunting arrow in my fist.

Not for the first time, I ask silently,

What in the name of all the planets — including Pluto whom I still formally recognize its planetary status — am I doing here?

I turn and look at Abigail, whose fever pitch eyes have not lost their enthusiasm for hiking in circles for the past three hours.

I turn to Eric, whose firm grasp of his 70-lb compound hunting bow reminds me of a male Katniss Everdeen.

Abigail notices my face and puts her gun back in the tactical black holster on her hip.

Bountiful birds

She retells the story that convinced me to join this ill-advised turkey hunting expedition.

I saw two dozen turkeys here yesterday morning. If we want to have turkey for Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow we have to kill one ourselves.

A few months earlier, Abigail saw a documentary on the cruel conditions poultry undergo in meat production facilities. It didn’t convince her to become a vegetarian. Instead, she only committed to eating the meat she hunted from the forest.

Inspired by her conviction and longing for a nice hike in the woods, I joined her and Eric.

The weapons

She told me with confidence,

I’ll take care of everything.

I arrived at her farm in my outdoor clothing, and Abigail brought the instruments of turkey demise out from the farmhouse.

Abigail had a 9mm pistol for herself. ¹

Eric has a legitimate hunting bow. It was Realtree camouflage and made out of some fancy carbon fiber composite.

What did I get?

Mark, you can have this arrow.

As I hold the solitary arrow, I ask myself,

If I see a Turkey what am I supposed to with my arrow? Throw it like a spear? Run up to the turkey like I’m Usain Bolt and stab it in the heart before it flies away?

I take a couple of practice throws with my arrow, and it flies about 15 feet. The world’s lightest javelin is entirely useless.

The quest

I like Abigail and adventure, so the three of us March off on our noble quest to provide supper. We hike and hike and hike, searching for our elusive prey.

If this were a sappy Hallmark movie, you would expect our merry band of adventurers to overcome adversity and get the bird amidst a breathtaking sunset.

That didn’t happen.

Instead, I spent the day as a doofus walking through the woods holding a useless hunting arrow. We return in defeat to the farm for dinner, heaping side items onto our plates.

Abigail, can you pass the mashed potatoes? I’m hungry.

Footnotes:

¹A 9mm pistol is not the kind of gun you use for hunting small game. They are typically sold for home defense or looking bad*** in action movies.

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