A Triumphant Day

When I woke up this past Friday morning I had a belly full of wild turkey and plenty of good memories to carry me through the day. We had celebrated the success of James’s turkey hunt with a loosely organized baking operation in my trailer and James and myself, along with our good friend Laci, had managed to cook his bird, make it taste pretty damn good, and have fun all the while. So, when Friday morning rolled along I can’t say I was up first thing but the night had inspired me and I knew that before I could head off for our first spring bear weekend I had to make one more attempt at getting into the woods. I had to come face to face with my adversary once again.

It was nearly 9:30 when I began to grab my gear and ready the truck. Since opening day I had managed to put myself in the woods many times and with the help of a co-worker, I was now armed with a shock call, an old turkey vest, and a box call. I suppose it wasn’t readily apparent to me how exactly to put these pieces together but the more time I spent in the woods the more I began to understand the turkey’s patterns. Now, I was primed to put these tools to good use and put myself in a position to be successful.

As of that point most of my hunts had been several hours, they included leaving early in the morning, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, and sneaking into the forest under the cover of darkness. Today was not like those days. I woke up late, fooled around at the house for a while, and drove to my spot in full daylight. When I left my truck to begin it was already 10:18.

I started off by moving quickly into the trees, attempting to get to the high ground, and view the now familiar country from above. From my week’s experience I knew that the high ground would provide me with a distinct advantage. I knew most of the turkeys I had encountered up until this time had been on the lowland slopes and while there was not a whole lot that I was certain of, trying to sneak uphill on turkey I had learned, was not advisable.

Reaching a hilltop above the lower meadows I gave a wail on the shock call and waited. There was no response. Without hesitation I slipped to higher ground, looking for a drainage that would simultaneously provide me with a natural funnel for sound and plenty of area to scan. On my next blow of the call I heard a faint gobble. It was far off but whether it was up or down I could not tell. I pushed slightly farther and gave another wail; gobbling in the distance. The sound was becoming more familiar to me and while it still got my heart pumping faster every time, I now based my decisions off of strategy and less off of pure adrenaline.  However, despite this, I could not figure out what direction the gobbling was coming from and with a 50-50 shot, I began to work my way downhill. As it turned out, that would be a decision to look back on and smile.

After hoofing it down a steep drainage and over onto an adjacent ridge I decided to sit down against a tree and call with the box call. I still wasn’t sure where the birds were but being a little nervous, I knew that blowing another shock call would only serve to hurt me at this juncture. So I yelped with the box call, “Yelp…yelp…yelp...yelp, yelp, yelp, yelp”, and wouldn’t you know it, a gobble rang out across the forest. It was beautiful noise; I had made the right decision.

After several minutes I decided to yelp again and within a second or two I could hear the gobbling again, loud and clear. At this point my best guess was that the turkey was downhill from me, around 150 yards. I positioned myself a little better, took my safety off, covered face, and began to wait. It was based on my previous experiences that I decided to be patient. I had worked hard to get after turkeys and while I had come so close, closing the distance and getting a shot was still just beyond my reach. So I waited, I sat there, breathing slowly, making sure that there would be no rushing in or lack of patience.

The minutes seemed to pass by and the silence that accompanies the forest was now alive with the sounds that define it. Birds were chirping away on branches, crows were screaming in the distance, and the wind was blowing through new spring tree growth. Then, without warning, the silence was broken.  A turkey gobbled loud and with enthusiasm and had without a doubt cut the distance between myself and him by more than half. I figured at this point he couldn’t be more than 50-60 yards away and knowing I had the uphill advantage I weakly yelped once more and the response was immediate. I could hear his call flow uphill like a freight train and with him moving up on my left I shifted my position and swung my gun over. The anticipation now had my heart racing and each breath was thick with tension. I could feel my moment was coming.

The next thing I saw was not one, but two males, crest the lip in front it me, full strut, both searching in every direction for the source of the noise I had been making. Obscured by several grasses and a couple of sagebrush shrubs I could only see the color of their heads, swaying back and forth, ever vigilant. Another gobble rang through the air, this time so close I could feel the vibration in my body. Their movement was steady and there was no indication that I had been exposed. I couldn’t believe it. My moment was here and I was not about to hesitate.

As the two of them came into full view I didn’t sit there and pick which turkey I wanted to shoot, I simply wanted to take the shot I felt most confident in and with one turkey in front of the other, my mind was made up. I took aim, lined up my barrel with my end bead sight and the second I could see the whole of that turkey’s neck I pulled the trigger. Instantly, the sound I am all too familiar with shook the forest and I had officially taken my second shot at a turkey. This time, I had hit my mark.

As the smoke was wisped away by the prevailing wind I could see the turkey in the back fly off down the next drainage and the one in front, the one I had focused my attention on, was on the ground, moving in a way that lets you know, you did it, you got him. I had just shot my first turkey! I was ecstatic! The next minute was full of pure joy. I have always made fun of those guys that yell and holler when they kill something, taking it to be over dramatic and borderline idiotic and insensitive, but in that moment I found myself triumphantly yelling to the sky, looking at the beautiful bird I had just taken.

The colors were magnificent. The wings were gigantic. The tail was beautiful. What an impressive bird. I had worked many days chasing these guys, studying the country they lived in, listening for their daily calls, and learning how to maneuver within the forest undetected. In the end, it all paid off. I had left my car at 10:18 and I now had a bird in hand, less than 40 minutes after I had started, go figure.

My first call was to James, knowing that if anyone could understand what I had just done and the emotions that were running though me he would. My second call was to my mom, who joked with me that she had gone from not wanting her son to own a gun to taking great pleasure in the fact that he had just killed a wild turkey. It was amazing!

 I took a moment to reflect before heading off the mountain and then walked out of the woods with a smile on my face from ear to ear. I looked to the sky and what a day it was. The sun was out, the skies were open, and the weight of a turkey on my back was enough to make all my other worries seem light years away. I had done it. I had put myself in the woods and given myself the opportunity. It was a feeling of pure exuberance. It was a morning I’ll never forget it.