Tom was to my left and I was bending over with my head in the cover. I'd left my feet planted away so I would have clearance to shoot by just straightening up from the waist. The one I wanted was only 15 yards away now........then one of the nannys spit.....and spit again. This alerted the whole herd, and the one I wanted perked up to see what the problem was.
My 'Billy' started strutting to the right to see what the fuss was about, and just as 'he' was about to present a perfect broadside shot, the herd started to skeedattle.....as did my 'Billy'.
'He' started galloping as he entered the wide open terrain quartering away. All I remember was swing drawing, and the next thing I remember was watching my arrow intercept 'him' just about perfect.
My prize only made it about 30 more yards or so, and collapsed by a tree in plain view.
So, I hunted hard, enjoyed camp, and I got to pack a goat off the mountain.
What more could a man ask?...even though my 'Billy' turned out to be a big Nanny.