In one of my AP gigs I was given a half-day a week of "enterprise" time to produce a Midwest outdoor column. Of the hundred or so that hit the wire, I remember only a few in detail. One of them is a longish piece on how to find and kill a wild turkey. It was well-received, though I suspect it discouraged many would-be hunters with its long exposition of the expensive gear and Leatherstocking wilderness skills necessary to take a gobbler.
I'm glad I wrote that in pre-internet days. I would be embarrassed if it were commonly available today.
That point occurred to me a few minutes ago when my peripheral vision caught a movement just outside the big south window. A grand-daddy strolled by, glanced at me, strutted around the house to the mulch pile, and, careless of all concern, rooted around in the decaying leaves for whatever turkey goodies might be squiggling there. It's getting so common that I didn't even reach for the camera. More tellingly, New Dog Libby didn't bother to bark.
A similar column today would be short; "Get a sling shot. Sit quietly on your deck. Pretty soon one will walk by. Shoot it."