The sharp crack of a shotgun signals the start of the Raleigh Moose Family Center Turkey Shoot, a festive holiday event with a crucial twist: no actual turkeys are harmed. This long-standing tradition, held three nights a week from late October through Christmas at Moose Lodge 1318 in Wake Forest, North Carolina, offers a blend of community, competition, and charity.
From Frontier Pastime to Modern Charity Event
The very name "turkey shoot" is a historical echo of a different era. As described in a 1953 American Rifleman article, these events are "as American as Boston baked beans." Originally, they did involve live targets. Author James Fenimore Cooper depicted such a scene in his 1823 novel The Pioneers, where a bird was tethered to a stump for marksmen to shoot at from 100 yards.
Today's contests are far more humane. Participants at Lodge 1318 aim at paper targets from a distance of 63 yards (58 metres), using No. 8 shot. The winner of each round is determined by which shooter places a single pellet closest to the target's centre, often requiring a caliper for precise measurement on cold December nights. "The main misconception is, they think we shoot live turkeys out here," clarifies Glen Coplen, a past governor of the lodge. "We do not."
Community, Prizes, and a Fight for Survival
The event, which charges $5 per round, serves as a vital fundraiser. Proceeds support local charities, including a substantial Thanksgiving dinner for senior citizens and an "angel tree" programme providing Christmas gifts for children in need. Winners don't leave empty-handed either, taking home prizes ranging from cash and Butterball turkeys to packs of ribs, hams, and breakfast bundles.
For attendees like Roger Jones, who drove 45 minutes to participate, the shoot is about nostalgia and family. "It's something that I did with my father and brothers ever since we were little," he remarked. Tammie Smith, sporting earrings made from her first winning shotgun shell caps, enjoys sharing her winnings with family or donating them.
An Uncertain Future for a Rural Custom
The greatest threat to this generations-old tradition is not controversy but concrete. Once surrounded by farmland, Lodge 1318 now finds itself encroached upon by urban sprawl. A scarred wooden wall and an earthen berm are all that separate the shooting range from a large housing development.
The lodge proactively leaflets the neighbourhood each season and voluntarily ends shooting at 10 p.m., a full hour before the county noise ordinance requires, as a courtesy to new residents. "We haven't had a complainer call all year, or last year either," notes Coplen. However, the relentless pace of development poses an existential threat. The lodge has so far avoided annexation by a city that would ban firearm discharge, but Coplen is pragmatic about the future. "You know, we might lose it someday," he says, as traffic speeds past on Route 401. "We'd hate to, but it's just a fact of life."
For now, the muzzle flashes still illuminate the winter darkness, preserving a unique slice of American holiday culture where community spirit, not live poultry, is the true target.
