Our turkey

I can still remember hunting with my dad and grandfather in the back swamps of Vasey Ontario.
I have a lot of fond memories of these adventures and thankfully my own son enjoys hunting and fishing with me as well.
When I felt it was time that my son Jake was old enough to sit still, I decided to include him on a wild turkey hunt.
Prior to this, I introduced him to a box call and he began to practice.He actually became quite good and so, I thought I might let him not only attend the opening morning hunt, but rather do some calling for me to boot.He was only eight when he started his calling techniques but like most things, practice made perfect and a turkey caller was born.
The night before opening turkey season, Jake and I laid out our gear together and devised somewhat of a battle plan.
We came up with a few quiet hand signals to avoid any unnecessary noise in the bush. For an example, if I wanted my son to yelp, cluck, purr or cackle, I would give him a series of finger signs that would indicate which call to apply.
We ended our evening with visions of a “super size” Tom running towards our place of hiding.
I awoke minutes before the alarm was set to sound and turned it off.
I quietly tip toed down the hallway into Jake’s room to wake him. After a few shakes and some very sharp whispers, his eyes popped open and he sprang from his bed like a slingshot.
Once again down the stairs we went.
After dressing in our camouflage, we made a thermos of hot coffee and a small thermos of hot chocolate. With gun and gear in hand we walked out the door and into the crisp April air. There was a slight breeze and I remember being thankful that we had dressed in layers and would be quite comfortable sitting for any given period of time. There is nothing worse than getting into an extremely promising hunting spot and not being able to enjoy it due to the elements.
It was still fairly dark when we reached our destination... This particular spot was on the edge of a hardwood bush and bordered a small meadow. There were small scrub trees through out the clearing and I felt that these could be used to our advantage.
We had roosted the turkeys the night before. They were sleeping about twenty yards into the hardwoods from the edge of the little meadow. I had been watching the turkeys patterns for a couple of weeks and found that they would frequent the meadow every morning to feed and mate and every afternoon to dust in the small sand bowls the meadow had to offer.
We set up our decoy and took our seats in the little make shift blind we had fabricated a few days prior. We used a bit of camouflaged netting combined with some cedar branches and a few small pine trees.
The situation of our blind was perfect that morning and I could feel Jake’s excitement as we nestled in. I may have been a little excited myself.
Jake and I softly whispered back and forth for a while and I tried to show him where I felt the Turkeys would be coming in from.
The breeze was warm and we decided to take off a layer under our camo to be as comfy as possible.
We sipped on our hot beverages for another few minutes and then finally the time came to take my trigger lock off and chamber a few shells.
I had chosen Magnum number five Turkey load due to it’s accuracy at a distance and its tight pattern.
The proof would be in the pudding.
As the sun rose up over the trees, the early morning mist floated through the hardwoods in a medieval kind of manor.
The birds began chirping and the chatter of a grey squirrel echoed throughout the timber.
The faint honking of some geese could be heard in the distance and the mist started to dissipate as the morning sun grew warmer.
Suddenly, a faint yelp from a hen rose through the woods and my son began to grin.
I gave Jake a nod and a quick finger sign and he picked up the call.
He started in with a few quiet yelps that led into a louder more subtle cackle, mimicking a hen as she fly’s down from her roost
Seconds later a deep and shrill gobble echoed back to us through the cedars and into the meadow.
Jake’s face lit up like a light bulb as he scrambled for the box call that rested on the floor of our blind.
“Sounds like a monster” he whispered as his little hand shook with excitement
I could see his efforts to calm himself, as his face changed back from exhilarated to an almost stone cold state. “Did ya hear him Dad?” he whispered again trying to seem as if he were calm.
“I think he’s commin’”


I nodded my head and couldn’t fight back the grin that grew on my face.
“Just keep still and listen to what I say” I replied. I realized then that indeed Jake was correct; the Tom was on its way.
As I gave Jake some of our pre-planned finger signs he beautifully presented the tom with some clucks, yelps and cackles. All of the hours spent squeaking out calls around the house and his mom telling him to “stuff it” had paid off. He was doing a great job.
“Watch for a small white head bobbing in the bush” I said with my eyes fixed on the gobbling direction.
Sure enough minutes later we spotted a small white head moving about the brush of some thick and twisted cedars. He would disappear and reappear in the blink of an eye and we both had our eyes glued on him. He would let out a tremendous gobble every so often to let any near by hens know he was there for business. He was a fair sized tom and his neck would stretch out long and narrow each time he decided to bellow out a gobble.
With our calls quieted down to clucks and soft purrs at this point, the tom shrieked out time after time and grew nearer.
When the bird was within range, we remained completely motionless. I waited until his feathers were fluffed and he was in full strut turned opposite to us. I slowly raised my trusty Browning up and over the edge of our blind. I put the bead onto the lower part of the gobbler’s head so as the shot would penetrate both the head and neck...
With a short squeeze of the trigger, the mighty Tom toppled over and gave a few violent flaps of his wings.
Success was ours.
My partner and I had harvested our first turkey together. I ejected the remaining shells from my shotgun as the faint smell of gun powder lingered in the air. The boy and I arose from our place of hiding. We shook hands, gave each other a high five and made our way over to our gobbler. Jake commented on a job well done and I returned the compliment back to him. He had been as much a part of this harvest as I and deserved credit as well.
As we knelt down beside our bird, I unzipped my hunting pack and retrieved the turkey harvest seal .I handed it to Jake and showed him how to apply it to the bird’s leg. We punched out the dates and times on the seal and then sat back to enjoy the moment.
The sunshine was pouring down on us at this point and we said a little thank you to god for giving us the bird. I’m sure all of the critters in the forest could here our laughter and chatter that morning and what a special morning it was. We decided that we should be getting back, so, with bird in hand; we started our journey back to the house. Once home, Jake held up our turkey with great pride to show his Mom and sister.
Yet another memorable hunt had taken place that morning, and I knew then, that there would be many more to follow.