Mike and Connie were just as welcoming as their instruments as we could have just sat out in their river side pavilion all day.
This close up of one of his hammered dulcimers gives an idea of his humor...
I have made a few turkey calls in my time. One of my fondest memories was in the Blue Rock state forest in Appalachian Ohio in my younger days. The rugged hills were breath taking, miniature mountains. The little unique box call coaxed two birds to gobble on two separate hilltops. I played that little box like a Stradivarius. Two more gobbles and both were on their way. The pleading sweetness coming from that little box even got me excited. They were nearly there having sailed across the valley on their separate journeys to find the loveless hen. Something intercepted the pair as they were coming up my hill, a coyote or bobcat perhaps. Dang it, lol. I wandered that forest for many years with my father.
Mike and Connie were just as welcoming as their instruments as we could have just sat out in their river side pavilion all day.
This close up of one of his hammered dulcimers gives an idea of his humor...