Black Powder and Whiskey?

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Back-in-the-day, when I was working for J.R at Phoenix Process Service (the man who christened me Guffaw!) we met for staff meetings every Friday afternoon @ 5:00.
This always seemed like a weird time for a staff meeting to me, but, then again, I wasn't the boss.
And we'd be issued papers for service on the weekend (or in my case, subjects needing location for service) and discuss office issues, recent court decisions and other stuff.
Many times, as six o'clock approached, J.R. would announce something along the lines of, "Oh, crap!  Gotta run!  Time for my Wild Turkey meeting!"   And, he'd be gone.
I just assumed that he was heading for the bar, and was a drunk!  Poor bastard.
("never assume" - Don Brown, my criminal law professor)
After a few months, as he'd always been kind and supportive of me, I approached him, and gently suggested he might need some assistance (thinking I might get a bloody nose or fired for my efforts).
He laughed heartily, and explained that the local National Wild Turkey Federation had get-togethers to discuss conservation of turkeys, and subsequent hunting to cull populations.
This fool would travel up to the Mogollon Rim (4000-7000 ft.) North of Phoenix, in the snow, in the cold, to shoot at turkeys in the frickin' snow!  With a black powder rifle!
My only experience with black powder was Dave the genius mechanic making a pistol from kit.  Interesting to shoot, but, I wouldn't rely on it for reliable self defense when newer technology was available.  I don't get the appeal of freezing my a$$ off in the snow @ 7000 feet to try to shoot a wily bird that I wouldn't care to eat, anyway (not a turkey fan, wild or otherwise).
But, it was his choice.
Glad he isn't a drunk.

h/t Dave, J.R.