Since early last summer, I had a pair of toms coming into my yard to raid the bird feeder leftovers and they got really, really tame -- to a point where I could walk right up to them with food.
Hunting season started a little better than a week ago. Now there's only one.
I can only hope the other died quickly.
Guess that's what happens when an old hunter turned softie mourns the loss of a "pal."
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