Firsts and Lasts

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May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. Romans 15:13

Spring 2014

There was still a half hour before daylight started to break when we arrived at our parking spot. David’s sister met us there with her hunting partner. The two of them had hunted the place a few days earlier, and we talked through our initial plans before parting ways. You could almost see your breath in the cool pre-dawn air as we conversed. “We’re going this way, we heard one down here the other day.” She said referring to an area a few hundred yards to the east of where we stood. Both David and I nodded in agreement and gave them a “Good luck!” as we headed towards the south end of the pasture that was situated just across the fence to the west of our parking spot. 

As we walked the road that followed the edge of the field on the outside of the pasture fence, a steady breeze began to overtake the previously calm spring morning air. I had acquired a general knowledge of the place over the few days that David and I had spent hunting the property the year before and had a place in mind that I wanted to listen from just off the southeast corner of the pasture. By the time we reached our listening spot, the wind had reached a sustained speed of what was likely north of fifteen miles per hour. 

The right wind, one that lulls to calm periodically, can aid in covering much of the leaf rustling and twig breaking that is inevitable during movement through timber types running heavy to hardwood. A hunter can use this type of wind to cover his noise as he makes his move, cover ground while the wind is blowing, and stop during the quiet of the lulls. This approach can allow a hunter to move through the area and have the noise from his footsteps blurred in with the many other noises being created by the gusty wind. This tactic is used a great deal during afternoon hunts. Utilizing the wind that is usually present during the midday to early afternoon period of many spring days can enable a hunter to ease into an area being used heavily by turkeys while minimizing the chances of audible detection. A sustained high wind at gobbling time absent of the necessary periodic lulls, is no good for anybody- hunters or turkeys. Not only does the wind cause everything in the woods to move increasing the nervousness of the turkeys who are already naturally suspicious of almost everything, but it also considerably increases the difficulty of the hunter’s ability to hear. Our wind leaned more towards the latter description. 

As gobbling time arrived the windblown calls from distant crows were answered only by the turkey that the other group had gone after. As I leaned my shotgun against a nearby tree to ease the wait, the look on David’s face began to turn from anxious excitement to one of more desperate frustration. As if to break the tension of the moment, a solid fifteen minutes late to clock-in, a turkey gobbled. 

Down the fence to the west of our position, the pine plantation penetrated across the fence and out into the pasture to the north. Comprised of pine timber mainly of chip-n-saw and small log size, the plantation ran away from the pasture to the west first heading uphill for fifty yards or so before rolling off back downhill, and transitioned over to hardwood as the topography fell off into the creek bottom a hundred fifty yards or so from the top of the ridge. An estimation of the turkey’s position, though skewed slightly by the high winds, put him straight down the road from where we stood, likely roosted very close to the timber change on the edge of the creek bottom.

We advanced close to a hundred twenty yards, or so, and stopped to listen again. I figured we should be very near where we needed to set up by now. At some point during our walk another turkey started gobbling back north of us across the county road that served as the northern border to the pasture near where we stood. The new gobbling turkey was probably a quarter of a mile from David and I, and during lulls in the high winds we could hear him gobble. We stood at our new location for probably close to five minutes, with growing impatience, listening to the turkey across the road with no word out of the one we had initially started toward. I had heard enough, and we quickly made the decision to turn our attention to the other turkey to the north. 

We crossed the fence and headed north through the middle of the pasture. There was plenty of daylight now, far beyond adequate enough to allow for flying down, so I was figuring that turkeys should be on the ground by now- if for no other reason – to get out of the wind! We were a hundred twenty yards, or so, into the pasture and up on top of a hill when, between steps, I thought I heard a different turkey gobble. After an abrupt stop and on cue after taking two or three deep breaths to knock off the heavy breathing, he gobbled again to our immediate left (west) and off in the bottom, very likely the turkey we had started toward originally. He was very certainly on the ground and not over two hundred yards from the edge of the pasture. Immediately changing course, David and I hurried our steps toward the edge of the woods in the direction of the gobbler.

We reached the edge of the woods, and the turkey answered an overhead crow only a second or two after we stopped. The turkey to the north gobbled back, as well. The one we were after sounded to be in about the same spot on the edge of the hardwood bottom which put him very near an old dim woods road that upon departure from the pasture ran due west along the inside of the south pasture fence, topped the hill, and continued down into the bottom on the other side. David assured me that the turkey sounded to be very near that woods road and on the edge of the creek bottom, and I began to search for a good tree. 

I sat David just off the edge of the pasture, in the plantation against a tree with ample cover to our rear to break up our silhouette on the bright pasture backdrop behind, assuming the turkey chose the road to approach our position as we hoped. David’s seat put him just under twenty steps from the edge of the road to his left that ran away from our setup at a diagonal from left to right. At sixty yards, the road topped the hill and began to drop off toward the bottom, passing from view.  

I placed a single hen decoy directly to our left between the road and our hide to help keep the gobbler's attention off us after he topped the hill. This has become common practice for me over the years when I hunt with anyone that I am worried may get the squirms when the turkeys get close. If a turkey picks up a little movement then sometimes a decoy, posing as another unalarmed turkey standing nearby, gives off the perception that the movement that was detected is of no danger which will sometimes cause the turkey to discount what they saw and continue their approach. 

While walking back to the tree I made my first call. Two clucks and a soft yelp was immediately rewarded with a gobble from the turkey we were setup on and the turkey to the north, as well. As I sat down I told David to reposition himself further around to his right on the tree in case the turkey did not come up the road as scripted. My next call was cut off by the gobbler followed by a hen that was just out of sight, between where we sat and the turkey gobbling to the north. I immediately mimicked her. She answered back again, and we entered into a heated conversation that lasted the better part of the next two minutes. Upon conclusion of our banter, I was out of breath and everybody had gobbled several times at all the racket. 

After a minute or so of silence she yelped again and was halfway down the hill taking a heading basically between the turkey we were calling to and the other gobbler. With my next call, the turkey that we were setup on gobbled back this time half the distance he was on his last report. “He’s coming David, point your gun toward the road.” I whispered. “Ok!” He replied as he corrected his point of aim.

The turkey was now just over a hundred yards and behind the crest of the hill from us. The only thing that concerned me now was that hen. He would have to walk right by her coming up the hill to us if we were going to kill him, which would remove what one could argue was a significant amount of the odds from our favor.

Not over a minute later I thought I heard him drum. “Ease that safety off.” I whispered to David. He did so and whispered desperately, “You see him?!?” Saving unnecessary details, I simply answered, “No.” No more than ten seconds later I heard it again, very distinct this time- Pffftoooooooom. “I hear him strutting.” I whispered. “I heard it too!” David said, his whisper now climbing on the registry. No sooner than he said that the turkey gobbled so loud that it felt like it should have moved the leaves at our feet. Extending out with his gobble, I saw his head come out from behind a tree that was standing on the crest of the hill near the side of the woods road. “Alright, I see him David. Be still now!” “Where!?!?” David answered anxiously. “He’s in the road on top of the hill. Be still now!!” I told him urgently. David’s breathing immediately got heavier as did mine, as he got a better grip on the shotgun and froze there. 

The turkey walked the road towards us twelve to fifteen yards closer, stopped behind a big pine tree and went into a half strut. With the tree hiding his eyes from our position, he stretched his neck and surveyed the area for a short time. Satisfied that all was safe, he dropped back into strut and continued toward the hen decoy that he most likely spotted during his once-over. As soon as he crossed the thirty-yard line I said “Alright, David, kill him when you can.” David, like a seasoned veteran, never corrected; he let the turkey walk right into his sights and, at a range of twenty-three steps, squeezed the trigger on his first turkey. 

Gobbler in hand, I turned around to see a mountain of a normally very reserve young man walking up with a smile on his face that threatened to sever the top of his head. “Man that was something else!” He said. In that instant looking at David, you could tell something was present inside of him that had not been there before, because there was. We are only allotted one first time in life and that goes for every single experience The Lord allows us on this earth. Though you may know deep inside of you exactly how special the moment may be you cannot adequately convey those feelings and emotions to someone else. This is all something that this person must learn over time, and, as the years go by, they are sure to look back on their first and realize just how special it was. I have been blessed to be a part of several "firsts" all of which were uniquely special, and I hope that I am allowed to be a part of many more before I hang up my hat for the last time.  Knowing what this moment in time had sparked inside of David, I hope that one day he can be the light to guide another to their first so that he too can experience how rewarding the experience is from the other side of the tree. 

Watching David walk out with his first gobbler over his shoulder, I knew that even though I had just witnessed his first victory in the spring woods, it was certain not to be his last. To us as humans, the life of a wild turkey is very short. Most gobblers are fortunate to see their third birthday on average. Though this day may have been the last spring battle of one’s few; it was very likely the first of another’s many. What an incredible blessing it was to be a part of both.