When the turkey drovers were settled at their campsite for the night, Lewis Simpson would lead them in an evening of music, storytelling, and fun. He passed on one of those stories to us.
Turkey drives took place in the nineteenth century in the Midwest, the South, and even New England. Basically, cattle drives and turkey drives were the same. They were intended to get the livestock to market, and the journey was sometimes long and difficult. Louis always felt that turkey drives were more difficult than cattle drives. The cattle might become spooked and scatter in all directions, but they always stayed at ground level with the drovers, so they could be reached and rounded up. That was not the case with turkeys.
According to Louis, the turkeys were harder to control. They might be spooked by anything. Howling or barking dogs, rifle shots, paper blowing in the wind, or unseen things like engines or people talking often made the turkeys take flight. They might end up on the tops of buildings or in trees, out of reach of the drovers. At that point, the turkeys were in charge. It was often impossible for the drovers to coax them down to continue on their way. Most of the time, the drovers simply set up camp where the turkeys had chosen to roost or take refuge from whatever frightened them.
The turkeys usually lived off the land, enjoying a diet of grasshoppers, nuts, plants, and the like. Drovers sometimes brought along a wagon filled with shelled corn, just in case the land did not provide food.
One late afternoon, a turkey drive approached a small town in south central Kentucky. Louis Simpson's old bluetick hound was taking a nap when he was disturbed by the drovers herding the turkeys down the road. He sat up and gave a couple of sharp, loud barks before deciding that this matter did not really require his attention. He lay back to continue his nap, but the turkeys flew into the highest tree seeking safety.
A boy who lived in town had heard that the turkey drive was coming through. He had never shot a turkey, and he decided it would be a good time to try out his new twenty-two rifle. This could be his lucky day. His luck held as he sneaked the rifle out of the house and hid in the bushes along the road. His luck continued to run as he heard the dog bark and the turkeys fly to safety in the treetops. It deserted him completely, however, when he failed to notice one of the drovers climbing up a tree to try to scare the turkeys down.
The boy raised his rifle and sighted only the turkey. It was a big one that would win him a lot of admiration among his friends if he could shoot it. Behind the tree, the drover climbed swiftly and silently, out of the boy's line of vision. Two things happened at the same time. The young drover leaned around the tree and reached for the turkey. The young boy on the ground pulled the trigger and sent a bullet into the drover's head. The horrified boy watched as the drover's body fell to the ground with a thud. The turkey they'd both been after fled to another tree and was later caught and sold at market.
The shooter, who was a minor, was not jailed as an adult. He was sent away to a reform school up north, and the victim was sent to the cemetery. That was not the end of it, though. On the anniversary of that tragic incident, people heard the sound of wings in the trees. They heard a single shot and the thud of a body hitting the ground. They always looked, but nothing was there. The scene was destined to be replayed over and over for many years until finally the sounds got fainter and fainter and disappeared altogether.
Fool's Errand
The hunters in our community told this story. With little to do for entertainment when they were camped for the night on a hunting trip, they would resort to practical jokes to have some laughs. When they gathered at our home or the home of neighbors, they would recount their escapades. Most were innocent fun, but this one joke, which always stayed in our minds, had a terrible ending.
A fool's errand is sometimes also called a snipe hunt or a wild-goose chase. In early times in Kentucky and the southern United States, it was a type of practical joke that involved experienced people making fun of inexperienced people by setting them up with an impossible or imaginary task. Campers and hunters often practiced this kind of prank. The victim of the joke had to do silly or preposterous things to complete the task, but of course doing so was hopeless. The fool's errand came in two varieties: trying to find something that does not exist, or trying to accomplish an impossible task.
Many years ago, a group of hunters had pitched camp deep in the woods. After eating their dinner, cooked over an open fire, they were bored and looking for entertainment.
In the group was a young man named Ronald Wilson, who was on his first hunt. His presence made the opportunity for a fool's errand too good to pass up.
The group had considered a snipe hunt, but they discarded that idea because Ronald knew there really was such a thing as a snipe—it was a real bird that was very hard to catch. The group wanted something unreal and a whole lot scarier than a snipe. Finally, they came up with the idea of an imaginary monster called a Swamp Booger. Now that dinner was over, they were ready to put their plan into action.