One day, around lunchtime, Radio got a call of a “10-11” from a resident on Cedar Mountain Road. (Zone 1) A 10-11, by the State Sheriff’s Radio Code, meant a dog complaint. About 80% of the 10-11 complaints were dogs barking. I arrived at an old clap-board house near the county dump.

I exited my vehicle as an elderly man approached. I shook the man’s hand and introduced myself. I really feel comfortable around country folk, black or white. They are just like regular people, polite!

I looked around the yard at the chickens, guinea hens, cats, and other farm animals. The “old man” said that the wild dogs that hang out around the nearby county trash dump are attacking his chickens and other livestock. “Can I shoot um?”, he asked.  I advised him of the State Law which at that time read, “A resident of the State of Georgia had the right to protect their person, property, and livestock from marauding animals.” It did not say that a citizen could kill wild dogs, but a citizen had the “right” to defend their property and livestock from attacks. He threatened that a shotgun was in store for the dogs. I advised him again that he had the right of self-defense.

During this conversation, I noticed the old man kept looking behind me and squirming back and forth. So much so, that I turned around, where I saw the biggest turkey I’ve ever seen. Now, I consider myself as a country boy, but I have never seen a turkey fluffed out that big. I did not realize that a turkey could puff themselves up like a balloon to intimidate and protect “it’s” property or house.

I knew that turkeys could get puffed big when they “strutted” around for the ladies. But man! He had to be the size of a beanbag chair balancing on two sticks.

Suddenly, the old man ran past me and kicked the turkey as hard as he could and yelled, “leave the deputy alone, BOB!”

Bob was so big, he only went about two feet back. He was kicked hard enough to put a human into brain damage, but Bob just kept strutting and trying to get behind me. I was very aware of Bob at this point. As we kept talking, I was now watching Bob myself. Bob kept trying to circle around and attack me from behind. No matter which way I turned, Bob kept circling behind me. The old man must have kicked him at least three times by the time I was ready to leave. I’d best get out of here or ol’ Bob will be kicked to death. I now know that turkey’s make great watch dogs.

I felt sorry for those dump dogs. Not for the shotgun, but for BOB.
(Patrol 1981 till 1985)