My FIRST Turkey Hunt
The alarm sounded at 3:30am on the morning of my first
turkey hunt. I hadn’t slept much anyway
because of the excitement of this new adventure. I arrived at my son’s house at 3:50, and he
was already packed up and waiting in his car for me. I was dressed in layers of clothing and a
pair of rainboots with a hat and a hood pulled up over it. It was April 26, 2023, and on this date 4
years prior my son had killed his first turkey.
It was a special date because it would have been my husband’s 65th Birthday
today. It was an hour and a half drive
to our destination. The traffic was surprisingly
heavier than I expected for an early morning trip. I didn’t nod off at all, although my son suggested
I lay the seat back and sleep. The
anticipation was keeping my adrenaline flowing, and I was unusually awake and
alert. We got off the interstate at some
point and traveled narrow and winding back roads.
At last, we arrived and pulled off onto the edge of the road
next to a long pole gate blocking a wide gravel entrance. It was pitch black. I literally could not see my son in front of
me. He chose not to use any flashlight,
but he had been down this path many times and knew exactly where he was
going. A few yards in, he stopped and
said he needed to load his gun in case we encountered a bear. I wasn’t sure if he was joking or not, but I
said that I thought I might need to wait in the car. He reassured me not to be afraid, so we journeyed
on. The only sound at this point was the
footsteps ahead of me. He walked confidently
and rapidly into the night. I, like a baby
duck following his mama, did my best to keep up. After my eyes had adjusted to the darkness, I
could see a slight shadow of his existence ahead of me. We walked much further than I had anticipated
before he took a slight right into the grassy field. There were two chairs and some decoys lying
on the ground, but the blind was not there where he had left it. He immediately decided it had blown away and
proceeded to look around the area for it.
I just froze in the spot next to the chairs. Luckily, it was within a minute that he came
back carrying the tent-like structure over his head. He carefully positioned it over the chairs,
and we proceeded to settle in. He took one of the decoys out about 100 ft and
placed it in the clearing. The whippoorwills
began to break the silence.
He had prepared me on the drive by telling me about the
order in which the forest would wake up.
It was fascinating to experience this phenomenon. The whippoorwills were first, and their sound
was mesmerizing. This was the only sound for a while. Shortly, the owl calls began to join in. Their “who cooks for you” hooting echoed in
the night. This duo of sounds was
followed by sounds of traffic on the road around 6 am. Next, songbirds were awake and began singing
their morning songs. The horizon started
to lighten up with the impending sunrise.
A few dogs could be heard barking in the distance. The morning doves began cooing the familiar
sound that is so soothing and delightful.
This symphony was glorious but not over yet, the rat-a-tat-tat of woodpeckers
joined in the ensemble along with the caw of a few crows. This experience was worth the trip even if we
never heard a turkey. But the first
gobble came at about 6:15 am. In fact,
there were two of them gobbling from two different directions. My son was patient and methodical as he
proceeded to use a striker call to mimic the mock fly down. He would initiate a call then wait a good
five minutes before calling again. The
response gobble would follow, and we were encouraged that we had a turkey or
turkeys on the ground in the distance. One
was down in the swampy area, and one was beyond the cutover. The idea was to coax him to us. Time passed. He seemed to be getting closer, but he would
need to traverse an overgrown area that it seemed he would not cross. My son
used both a box call and his striker call.
It was fascinating.
At 8:30, we decided to leave the blind and walk down to the
swampy area to see if we could find the turkey. When we left the blind, we saw deer tracks in
the mud just in front of us. As we walked,
my son would stop periodically and give a short call and wait. No response.
We got down to the standing water, but no turkey. Along this path were beautiful patches of purple
wildflowers, and we stumbled upon numerous piles of scat which my son said were
coyote feces. The dew was heavy on the vegetation. It glistened in the sunshine and illuminated
all the wet spider webs that were built in the grass. The blackberry vines were heavy with white
blooms. We walked back to the blind and decided to move it to a location on the
other side of the cutover. I carried the
small chair and the three decoys. My son
hoisted the blind over his head, and we traveled down the same road we had
entered in the black of night earlier.
About halfway back to the car, we came to the spot. We set up again in the blind and waited. The process continued. No talking.
No sudden movement. No rustling of
the feet. Just sitting, calling and
waiting for a response. He said we would
give it until 10 am, then head out. It
was a beautiful day, not too hot. I enjoyed
just sitting there taking in the beauty and sounds of nature. My son said that most people think the forest
is quiet, but it actually it is bursting with the sound of different
wildlife.
When we decided to head back to the car, I was not too
disappointed that we never saw a turkey.
After all, we did hear them gobbling.
On the way home, we passed a forest of public land that had just been
burned. We pulled in and he made a few
calls with no luck. Then we visited a
property newly purchased by the state.
It was a beautiful meadow surrounded by forest. The ground was covered in places with
beautiful mosses of all varieties. The
meadow was yellow with wild buttercups and dandelions. It appeared to have been an old soybean field. We walked through this field and just
observed the grandeur of it all. A few
doves were flushed out as my son walked along.
I kept trailing behind taking photos.
We saw several abandoned deer stands, and occasionally we’d stop, and he’d
call, but again no turkey response.
My adventure felt complete
even without the prize of a turkey because I was with my son making
memories. It was an experience I will
never forget. My son, my nature guide,
my protector against bears, my inspiration had privileged me by letting me into
his hunting world. I was honored to have
had the opportunity. At 63 years old, my
intention is to make as many memories as possible doing special things with
special people.
Tammy Harvey
4/27/2023
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