I'll preface by saying this---I'm a very novice turkey hunter. I've only been a handful of times. Never shot at a bird, never seen a gobbler . . . and to be honest, never even heard a gobble while out turkey hunting, though I've heard them when other outdoor pursuits have called me into the woods or the swamp or onto the river. I met up with my cousin, Jay, for opening weekend of turkey season. The other side of his family owns some land near Laurel Hill. The land is largely used for timber. Lines of pines in neat rows, so open in the understory that you could drive a truck though, with a bed of pine straw covering the sandy ground. There's almost no underbrush, aside from the stray hardwood, and the stray dogwood, blooming now with their white petals. It's cleared from regular prescribed burns and raking, I learned, so some money can be made off the straw while the trees grow. They don't call it "the sand hills" for nothing, ...
Fly Fishing, Waterfowling, and Wandering the Old North State and Elsewhere