Whitesburg KY

One strange morning at Cabela’s

Struttin’ Time:

I am glad I am on the backside of life, because as stupid as this world is getting it can’t last much longer, in my opinion. We have been told since youth that life is stranger than fiction, and the following is the proof:

This story is true; not even the names have been changed to protect anyone. I got a sale paper last week from Cabela’s in Lexington, informing me they where having a class on wild turkey decoys. Since I had been sent a “MAD Smoky Baby” white hen decoy to try this season, I thought it would be helpful to get some advice from a turkey decoy professional. I made sure I had cleared my list of things to do so I would not miss the class.

When Mimi and I arrived I asked one of the Cabela’s clerks (she looked to be about 20 years old) where they was setting up for the class. She looked at me with a blank look and said, “Sorry, I don’t know.”

Although the store had several decoys sitting next to the door as we entered, I could tell right away the class was going to be held elsewhere. I finally made my way to where the calls and other turkey hunting supplies are located. Oh yes, there was a man from the Primos turkey call company sitting behind a table. Bingo, right? Wrong. I asked him where the class was going to be held and he didn’t have a clue. He was trying to sell calls. (Remember my number one rule, never use calls bought off the shelf. Get your self a call maker.) But we can excuse him, because he was just there for the day.

Finally, after asking three more clerks, none of whom had a clue as to what I was talking about, I ran into a man younger than the years I have hunted (I know because I asked). “Are you the one who wants the decoy class,” he asked. Another fellow spoke up before me and said, “Yep. It is already 10 minutes late in starting. the class was suppose to start at 10.” The young man answered, “Well we should get started. I asked, “Where is the pro staffer?” He answered, “We never get pro staffers here, just in Louisville. The other hunter looked at me, me at him, and we shook our heads.

Next I asked the about the white decoy. I was the stupid one at that minute, even though I had forgotten more about turkey hunting than he had ever learned. The clerk told me he had never heard of that decoy, and he pointed to several on the shelf asking if it looked like any of those. I asked, “Are any of those white?” The other hunter turned and left, shaking his head.

The burning question I wanted to ask — “How long have you turkey hunted?” then boiled out. He looked at me, proud to be a turkey hunter, and said, “Two years, sir.”

I walked to the end of the shell display, bought myself another box of shells and left. They sent a rookie who had hunted twice to show a hunter with 20 “Grand Slams” how to use decoys the young man didn’t even know about.

Life really is stranger than fiction.

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