In New York, bullet dodging season starts this week; the state’s turkey season opens this Friday, May 1.

With it comes a fresh batch of “safety” tips for hunters and everyone trying not to get shot, outlined in the New York Department of Environmental Conservation’s Hunting and Trapping Newsletter.

A few standouts:

·         “Hunters and non-hunters should not wear red, white, or blue clothing, hats, or packs, to avoid being mistaken for a turkey.”

·         “Hikers, bird watchers, and other non-hunters should wear fluorescent orange.”

·         “Never stalk turkey sounds. It could be another hunter.”

·         “Be sure of your target, what is in front of it, and what is beyond it.”

·         “Do not shoot at movement or sound.”

·         “Always assume any call or sounds you hear are from another hunter. Don’t shoot until you clearly see the whole turkey and can identify the sex of the bird.”

The guidance offered is a far cry from common-sense precautions and should more so serve as a reminder: that everything that looks and sounds like a turkey might just be a guy; that turkey hunting isn’t much more than a guessing game.

The advice to use caution reads as a disclaimer, especially for hikers, bird watchers, and nature’s other non-violent visitors: these woods aren’t safe for you.

What practical advice could anyone possibly take from this? Don’t wear red, white, or blue or you might be shot; don’t move or you might be shot; and don’t make a sound, for you—yes, you—might be shot.

As far as the hunters go, the list of precautions reads like a peek behind Oz’s curtain. Their sadistic hobby has become so anthropomorphic, so reliant on imitation and guessing, that they can’t reliably discern their target from another slob mimicking one.

Since 2024, New Yorkers have been captivated by Astoria, a wild turkey who wanders Manhattan streets, dodging traffic and endearing pedestrians. She, of course, didn’t have a target on her back. She was celebrated and viewed as something in need of protection.

New Yorkers revere Astoria, lending her space, save for helping her cross busy streets.

Yet, this week, thousands of Astorias will be seen as something entirely different: a target, accompanied by a rulebook on how to avoid becoming one yourself.

It is, apparently, just another week in the woods.