Here's when I went hunting with my Dad for the first time. We drove up into the mountains a bit, found a good camping spot, set up camp and went out into the trees in the woods for five days. Never saw a turkey. So, we packed up the car and started heading down the mountain road. Lo and behold, up ahead in the road, two turkeys crossing over. That's when my Dad did something out of a cops movie or something. He swung that car around, grabbed his gun, stepped out, aimed at the turkeys, and shot. One of the turkeys dropped right there in the middle-of-the-road. As we walked over to the turkey, it was apparent it wasn't quite dead. So, my Dad shot it through the small head. We went on home with turkey in hand. When we got home and pulled off the feathers, I noted to my Dad I didn't see any other bullet holes than the one in the head of the turkey. "Well, Son, I didn't want to ruin any meat, so I shot it through the same hole." You're the King, Dad!