Young Lads First turkey

My son finally reached a stage where I felt he was ready to take a turkey on his own. He was eleven that year and had hunted by my side since he was five. He had been part of at least five wild turkey harvests and had five years of calling or “turkey talking” as we say it under his belt.
I was extremely proud of him with how perceptive he had been in the field and he had made an enormous effort to listen to and understand my guidance.
His patience was definitely something he had to work on but hell; I’m not the most patient fellow around either. He was ready.

I had purchased a camouflaged pop up blind the winter prior with expectations of using it for the turkey hunt. This particular year it would prove to come in handy.
I spoke with Jake and asked him if he felt ready to take his shot. His eyes lit up with anticipation and he assured me that indeed he was ready.
I began preparing him mentally for the actual time when the turkey was in range and it was time to take the shot. A lot of grown men choke at this point and I knew it could be a very nerve racking experience, especially to an eleven year old.
We discussed proper breathing techniques when the heart is pumping for all it is worth. We talked about slow movement and proper timing when the turkey was in front of him. We also spoke about safe, ethical and effective ranges in which to take the shot and where exactly on the turkey he should lay his bead.

We were staying at our camper trailer the evening before and awoke before the alarm sounded.
The air was brisk and damp but a wonderful kind of calmness greeted us as we opened the door of the trailer and scurried toward our truck. It would be a nice day.
As we headed down the highway toward our chosen hunting area, I quizzed Jake with an array of questions pertaining to shot time. “where ya’ gonna’ aim?” I asked “bottom of the head and top of neck” he replied.
“How ya’ gonna’ breath?” “Two deep breaths and one half short one before the shot” he said.
He had been listening to my teachings and I found it exceptionally rewarding to witness him heed my advice.

When we had reached our destination I slowly brought the truck to a stop and we quietly opened the doors and stepped out. We retrieved our gear from the box of the truck and began our walk down the trail.
This was the same trail that led to our duck hunting spot.
The trail was very wet with rather large ATV ruts. It had become over grown in the past year or so and the trees seemed impede onto the path more than usual. As we slithered toward the trail’s end, it was all we could do to avoid sliding into one of the bike ruts and getting a soaker.
This particular trail went through a mixed bush consisting of hardwood and cedar.
When we finally made it through all of the obstacles the trail had to offer we toted our gear up the bush line to a spot with clear viewing.
We then sprung open our little pop up blind and positioned our seats within.
I had made a gun rest for Jake that was telescopic to adjust to a comfortable level for him and we drove it into the dirt inside our blind.
When we had finished with our place of hiding, we walked out about fifteen yards or so and placed our hen
Decoy as strategically as possible and returned to take our seats.



Once situated inside, we readied our gear and gun and began the wait for the first morning cackles.
Sometimes just being out in the field is as nice as the hunt.
We were positioned on the edge of the bush, overlooking a kind of field marsh that in turn bordered the bay.
The turkeys were frequenting this area every morning to strut and show their stuff and were roosted a hundred yards or so over to our left in the hardwoods.
Jake and I sat there whisper chatting for a while taking in the all of the marvellous surroundings that this morning offered us. The sun was bright orange and it’s reflection in the water was astounding as it slowly rose above the horizon.
A beaver swam and playfully directly in front of us, slapping his tail every now and then on the water, creating some colossal thuds and splattering. Fish jumped repeatedly and a flock of trumpeter swans gracefully meandered in front of us, not at all disturbed by our presence. Wood ducks and Northern snip whistled and fluttered through the air, dipping and plummeting erratically around the cove. The air was tranquil and the chirps of the birds echoed almost as if they were saying good morning.
“Isn’t this nice man”, I whispered. “It’s awesome” he said gazing around at the panoramic view.
Suddenly we were snapped from our trancelike state by a piercing gobble that reverberated to us through the hardwood to our left
I didn’t say a word to Jake as his actions told me that he had clearly heard it as well.
Another gobble and another, until they too were interrupted by the cackle of some roosted hens nearby.
I could see Jake’s grip on the Browning Auto five tighten with elation and he looked at me as if to say “bring em’ on, I’m ready dad”
I snuffed out the cigarette I had lit earlier on the dirt floor of our blind and seized the box call that rested at my feet.
I began blending in with the already exited hens to make the gobbler take notice of our position.
Gobble after gobble struck back to us and we soon realized that there were at least three males in the bunch.
As time went on, the turkeys became closer and the gobbling became louder.
The toms were screeching back and forth to one another and finally we saw the first head of a hen come into view through the marsh grass.
“There they are Jake”, I whispered as the small flock of hens ambled into sight.
“I see em’ dad” he replied as he ogled the congregation of hens.
Not far behind, the tom trailed, strutting and gobbling for all he was worth. He was desperately trying to get the attention of his female counterparts and didn’t pay much attention to our call or decoy for that matter.
They strolled directly in front of us but unfortunately were about twenty yards or so out of range.
“I softly whispered to Jake that they were too far out and he replied with a very disappointed “I know dad”.
As we studied the turkeys and watched them saunter out of sight, we then focused our attention on the next two Toms that were tailing the group.
They also would scream back and forth to each other, completely giving away their whereabouts and we patiently waited for them to expose themselves to our view.
Finally a white head appeared through the foliage, bobbing and jerking as he cagily stepped toward our decoy.
I presented him with some soft clucks and purrs at this point to entice him closer for Jakes shot.
I could feel my blood being thrust into my neck as my heart pounded and could almost hear Jakes as the tom grew nearer.
“Get ready man” I whispered. He was so overwhelmed he didn’t reply
The sensation at this point was so intense that everything around us seemed quiet.
When the turkey had finally progressed to about twenty yards or so, I said “Ok, take him”
A soft “I can’t” whispered back to me and my heart sank. “Take him” is said now in a louder and more irritated whisper. “The grass is in my way” Jake said back to me. I knew then what he was talking about.
We had laid some wild grass on our blind to further blend it to our surroundings and it was in his line of view.
As the tom moved off to the right a few feet it cleared jakes view.
“Ok, now take him”
With a deep breath, my son bore down on the gun and squeezed the trigger as he was trained.
The shot thundered from our little blind, hitting its mark, sending the turkey toppling over in a cloud of feathers. Its wings flapped for a few seconds and then became still.
“Ya got him dude!” I yelled as Jake leaped through the small window of our blind.
His yells and laughter filled the woods as we hugged and high fived’ time after time.
“I’m so proud of you” I said as we stood there for a few seconds smiling, “you did everything right”
As we walked over to Jake’s prize I pulled the turkey seal from my wallet and notched out the time and date.
I handed it to him and he carefully folded it around the bird’s leg. I threw the bird up over my shoulder and we started back up the trail to the truck, revisiting and discussing what had just taken place the whole way.
When we arrived home, pictures were taken and Jake was the man of the hour.
This has been one of my most memorable hunts to date because that morning, I witness my little lad begin to become a man.