Sometimes things go bad. Your boat sinks, you forgot to remember the beer, you end up in the woods with large hairy rednecks who think your mouth is "purdy". Bad times.
But occasionally and with a bit of luck, the gods smile upon a lowly fisherman and guide him to the high life.
As I was making our way back to the dock side of the lake, I came to a fork in the road. I have heard that when this happens it is a good idea to take the fork, as it might come in handy later, but in this case after a short mental deliberation I decided to leave the fork and make a left, taking us away from the water and the wind that abused it.
After a short dirt road jaunt and park, we were greeted by a smiling face and lead into the garage for a beer.
Movement caught my eye out the small garage window overlooking the side of the house. Aaron points his beer and says, "Hey Pat, there is a turkey in your yard!" Pat took a swig of Budweiser, and wiped his chin. "Yep."
We moved to the yard where, sure as shit, a young thanksgiving dinner on legs greeted us with little interest, obviously accustomed to the company of humans. And it even did tricks! (see video below)
Unbelievable. I have spent many, many hours in the past roaming the countryside with various types of weaponry in hand looking for these specific brands of wildlife, often returning with nothing more than a handful of dirt in my pocket and a bad case of monkey butt, and here they are side by side in the middle of a Monday afternoon hanging out in Pat Spain's Memorial Wildlife Park and Beer Garden. Amazing.
5 beers and a couple glasses of wine later, we moved inside for and a snack of ribs, brauts, cantaloupe, and yogurt covered strawberries (hey fat guys need their vitamins too) accompanied by show tunes on the radio. There is just something awesome about drinking Merlot and chowing glorified hot-dogs while Frankenstein's half-retard monster sings "puttin on the ritz" in the background. Makes me smile just thinking about it.
As the evening closed in around us, with full bellies and minds we wished Pat and his lovely wife a good night and made for the open road, more fulfilled than a couple bass on the fly could ever hope to achieve. And just think, if it wasn't so damn windy we would have never had the pleasure. Makes you think.
The Great Pat Himself.
"They never make ground-bird bird feeders."
Wind is a jerk.
-Alex who doesn't sail or fly kites.