After waking up at 5:00 am this morning to the sound of thunder, I climbed my weary bones out of the sack and headed straight for the coffee. With lightning flashing outside and the patter of rain on the roof I sipped my hot beverage and contemplated going back to bed or hitting the wet woods for a springtime gobbler. I chose the latter and began loading my gear. I went back inside for one last load and this one proved to be exciting. You see, I was taking my 7 year-old son, Beck for his first turkey hunt. He wasn’t going to be an active hunting participant but wanted to “watch first”, as he put it, before he brought his gun
Beck has been looking forward to this day since I brought the subject up a couple of weeks ago. Everyday he gave me a countdown to the hunt and bombarded me with questions. Are we going to get up in the dark? Are we going to shoot a bunch of turkeys? Can I shoot a turkey with two pistols? Is it scary? Are there any wolves?
With questions answered and the day upon us, we left the house in a light drizzle to meet up with his Uncle John.
The light rain turned into a downpour 10 minutes from home and I was praying that we wouldn’t have to call the hunt. The Turkey God’s must have heard my prayers for when we were a mile from the farm the rain stopped.
We met Uncle John outside his house and Beck launched into another round of questions, this time Uncle John was the one who answered and I just listened and smiled.
With Beck in tow and still asking questions we started across the field toward a spot that Uncle John had scouted. 10 minutes later we are at the spot and I set up a lone hen decoy 15 yards out. We all snuggle up against a few trees inside a privet hedge and wait.
It didn’t take long for the air to fill with the sound of gobbling and Beck was amazed at how loud they were. Looking to my left I could see him shaking in anticipation much like a dog on point. I whispered for him to relax and try to be still and much to my amazement he didn’t move from there on out. He was like a mummy and it was me who ended moving around, trying to get rid of the root sticking in my thigh.
John started up on the box call and each note was answered with several gobbles from excited toms. John would cluck, the toms would gobble and this became the routine for the next 30 minutes. They were getting very close but from mine and John’s position we could not see them. Beck was the one who subtlety informed us the birds were in sight and coming from our right. Neither John nor I had a shot so we waited and hoped they would move within our firing lane.
After a tense 10 minutes the birds, all six of them, started our way. I let the first 3 pass since they were further out but the 4th tom strayed too close. I slowly raised the gun, sighted down and pulled the trigger. The tom dropped stone dead. We sat there for a second to analyze the situation and something very odd happened. The other 5 toms immediately turned around and swarmed the downed bird. They weren’t spooked by the shot but seemed excited that one of their own was down. They began pecking, scratching and jumping on the dead tom like they were in a fight for their life. I immediately told John that he should take a shot at one of the other birds. He didn’t have a good sight line so he had to stand up and move to his left a foot or so. I thought for sure this would spook the birds but I was wrong. The largest bird in the flock stopped attacking his dead brother and stood straight up with a full neck. John took his shot and the bird dropped hard. Oddly enough, the birds still didn’t scatter. “Amazing!” I say to myself. “I shoot a bird and the rest of the flock isn’t spooked and now my buddy takes another bird from the same group and they still stick around.”
By this time Beck is on his feet saying “Oh my gosh, we got 2 turkeys, can you believe it dad?” John and I both start chuckling about the way things have turned out and tell Beck its time to get the birds.
As we emerge from the hedge, the other birds in the group have not hightailed-it to the next field but are now attacking the 2nd dead tom. We start laughing and commenting how crazy this is. We get within 15 yards and the toms finally decide to hit the road. Slow and methodically the birds turn and head away from us and Beck decides to give chance. He gets within 10 yards or so and the birds finally seem scared and take flight.
We pick up the birds and head to the house all the while discussing this most interesting hunt. Beck is thrilled with all the action and the 2 big toms. He goes into another round of questioning and says he wants to bring his gun next time and shoot a “monster turkey”.
As of this writing I have not spoken with John about the size of his bird but mine was 20.5 lbs with a 10” beard and 1 ½” spurs. John’s bird was definitely bigger and I would have to guess it came in around 25 lbs.
I have to say this hunt will go down as one of the most memorable hunts of my life. What I thought was going to be a bad day to hunt turned out to be perfect. I was able to enjoy a wonderful morning with my son and see the joy and excitement this hunt brought to him. There is nothing quite like seeing the smiling face and glowing eyes of a new, young hunter experiencing a turkey hunt like this.
John, Beck, Me (l-r)
Me, Beck (l-r)
Beck has been looking forward to this day since I brought the subject up a couple of weeks ago. Everyday he gave me a countdown to the hunt and bombarded me with questions. Are we going to get up in the dark? Are we going to shoot a bunch of turkeys? Can I shoot a turkey with two pistols? Is it scary? Are there any wolves?
With questions answered and the day upon us, we left the house in a light drizzle to meet up with his Uncle John.
The light rain turned into a downpour 10 minutes from home and I was praying that we wouldn’t have to call the hunt. The Turkey God’s must have heard my prayers for when we were a mile from the farm the rain stopped.
We met Uncle John outside his house and Beck launched into another round of questions, this time Uncle John was the one who answered and I just listened and smiled.
With Beck in tow and still asking questions we started across the field toward a spot that Uncle John had scouted. 10 minutes later we are at the spot and I set up a lone hen decoy 15 yards out. We all snuggle up against a few trees inside a privet hedge and wait.
It didn’t take long for the air to fill with the sound of gobbling and Beck was amazed at how loud they were. Looking to my left I could see him shaking in anticipation much like a dog on point. I whispered for him to relax and try to be still and much to my amazement he didn’t move from there on out. He was like a mummy and it was me who ended moving around, trying to get rid of the root sticking in my thigh.
John started up on the box call and each note was answered with several gobbles from excited toms. John would cluck, the toms would gobble and this became the routine for the next 30 minutes. They were getting very close but from mine and John’s position we could not see them. Beck was the one who subtlety informed us the birds were in sight and coming from our right. Neither John nor I had a shot so we waited and hoped they would move within our firing lane.
After a tense 10 minutes the birds, all six of them, started our way. I let the first 3 pass since they were further out but the 4th tom strayed too close. I slowly raised the gun, sighted down and pulled the trigger. The tom dropped stone dead. We sat there for a second to analyze the situation and something very odd happened. The other 5 toms immediately turned around and swarmed the downed bird. They weren’t spooked by the shot but seemed excited that one of their own was down. They began pecking, scratching and jumping on the dead tom like they were in a fight for their life. I immediately told John that he should take a shot at one of the other birds. He didn’t have a good sight line so he had to stand up and move to his left a foot or so. I thought for sure this would spook the birds but I was wrong. The largest bird in the flock stopped attacking his dead brother and stood straight up with a full neck. John took his shot and the bird dropped hard. Oddly enough, the birds still didn’t scatter. “Amazing!” I say to myself. “I shoot a bird and the rest of the flock isn’t spooked and now my buddy takes another bird from the same group and they still stick around.”
By this time Beck is on his feet saying “Oh my gosh, we got 2 turkeys, can you believe it dad?” John and I both start chuckling about the way things have turned out and tell Beck its time to get the birds.
As we emerge from the hedge, the other birds in the group have not hightailed-it to the next field but are now attacking the 2nd dead tom. We start laughing and commenting how crazy this is. We get within 15 yards and the toms finally decide to hit the road. Slow and methodically the birds turn and head away from us and Beck decides to give chance. He gets within 10 yards or so and the birds finally seem scared and take flight.
We pick up the birds and head to the house all the while discussing this most interesting hunt. Beck is thrilled with all the action and the 2 big toms. He goes into another round of questioning and says he wants to bring his gun next time and shoot a “monster turkey”.
As of this writing I have not spoken with John about the size of his bird but mine was 20.5 lbs with a 10” beard and 1 ½” spurs. John’s bird was definitely bigger and I would have to guess it came in around 25 lbs.
I have to say this hunt will go down as one of the most memorable hunts of my life. What I thought was going to be a bad day to hunt turned out to be perfect. I was able to enjoy a wonderful morning with my son and see the joy and excitement this hunt brought to him. There is nothing quite like seeing the smiling face and glowing eyes of a new, young hunter experiencing a turkey hunt like this.
John, Beck, Me (l-r)
Me, Beck (l-r)
