CAMP RIPLEY – Great things happen every day in this country, sometimes in not-so-obvious places.
In a blind on this expansive military training center on a recent early morning, Samantha "Sam" Hunter issued hen turkey yelps to what she hoped was a love-struck gobbler perched in a near-distant tree.
This was early, before the morning's full light gathered atop the deep snow that encircled the blind. But not before Hunter, 35, and Randy Falknor, 61, and his adult son, Will — an observer on this day — set a couple of decoys in front of their blind.
And not before Randy, in his motorized wheelchair, was positioned so he could accurately align his shotgun at the tom turkey, should it strut within range.
"That turkey knows we're here now,'' Hunter said, quieting her call. "Let's see if he comes.''
Elsewhere on Camp Ripley, similar dramas were unfolding, as about 32 veterans, many with scars from their years of military service, and each accompanied by volunteer guides, huddled in the chilled pre-dawn, waiting for trigger-squeezing opportunities.
Consummately wary as they are, few turkeys would fall to shotgun volleys that morning. But to the hunters, if not the guides, that outcome would be largely inconsequential. The victory for these veterans, some dating to service in World War II, was in the opportunity.
"With the limitations some of these veterans have, Camp Ripley allows them to get into the field in a safe, controlled environment,'' said Dennis Erie, an employee of the St. Cloud VA Health Care System and chief organizer of the event at the 53,000-acre military training facility near Little Falls in central Minnesota.