I got my first jolt 30 years ago. In those early years I was able to hold my growing addiction in check. I limited turkey hunting to just one week each year. Since there were no turkeys at home in New Hampshire back then, I had to travel to hunt them; that made it easier to keep a lid on my desire. I hunted in the plantation country of Georgia, the Alabama flatwoods, the mountains of Arkansas, the Black Hills of South Dakota, the rolling farmland of Missouri, and the oak ridges of Pennsylvania, but when each hunt was over, I returned home to store my turkey-hunting paraphernalia and to try not to think about birds until next year.