25 years ago almost to the day I had a father's joy of tagging along with my son, Brooks, on his 1st afternoon of turkey hunting. He was 16 at the time. He had gone that morning and came back all jacked up about having turkeys all over him that morning. That afternoon, he and I headed out...for my 1st tag along with video camera in hand and his 1st afternoon of turkey hunting. Neither of us knew what we were doing. We would walk along in the woods, stop and listen for a tom as Brooks gave numerous yelps with a box call I had purchased a few weeks earlier. We eventually set up on a bank next to a blow-down leading down into a huge creek bottom. He at the bottom and me near the top. He set up a decoy not far in front of us and we were turkey hunting. An hour or so later, I was in full nap mode lying beside the blow-down and he was offering novice yelps in a random pattern having no idea if there were any turkeys in the area. Then it happened...a thundering gobble answers back from the creek bottom. I come to life, peer under the blow-down and witness a tom in full strut working it's way toward the decoy, drumming as he slowly came forward. Tension mounted, nerves became frayed and both our hearts were beating out of our chests. A few minutes later, he takes dead aim with an old beat up pump 12 ga and BAM!!! Our 1st ever turkey is flopping 30 yds away. I got the whole thing on video. That was 1995 and thus began his pursuit of the thunder chicken. Nothing he'd rather do than turkey hunt, even to this day. He simply loves it.
I never got into turkey hunting after that. His older brother was always involved in sports and spring time was taken up with baseball. Fast forward 25 years and for the second time this year, Brooks has taken me turkey hunting. 2 years ago I missed my 1st from about 25 yds but it was not the typical strutting show that you would expect so my nerves never came into play. I drove the farm Friday afternoon and Brooks suggested we go turkey hunting Saturday morning. I awoke about 5:00 and made coffee. He came rolling in around 6:00. We had coffee and waited on the night to give way to gray. As daylight broke, we eased down our main interior road in the electric buggy. Brooks stepped out to give an owl call to see if we could locate birds but before he could call an owl beat him to the punch and in an instant, 3 toms answered a couple hundred or more yards away. They were roosted across our neighbors pasture in a hardwood draw. We grabbed our stuff and off we went working our way to a hardwood draw on our property. We set up in the hardwoods within sight of the pasture, maybe 80 yds or so back in the woods. We maintain a firebreak rd that separates our farm from the neighbors. We had 2 decoys out in front of us. Brooks began to purr mixed in a few soft yelps with the toms gobbling back. We then heard hens near the toms which is never a good sound but with 3 toms over there, it was highly likely that one or more of the toms would be outgunned by the dominant bird. Fast forward 20 minutes and all was quite. Then Brooks whispers, "there he is". His view to the firebreak was a little different than mine even though we were only yds apart. He whispered again but still I couldn't locate the bird.
Then it happened. I see the bird in full strut easing down the firebreak about 45 yds away. His drumming was much louder than I expected and he displayed himself in full strut glory as he eased down the fire break. On cue, he locates the decoys and turns toward us. I began to shake a bit as he came closer and closer in all his glory. The shakes gave way to full onset of nerves as he closed the distance to 25 yds, strutting and drumming as he slowly waddled toward us. I did have the where-with-all to make sure i didn't move until he was behind a tree as he approached. Around 25 yds he passes behind a large oak and I get the gun adjusted just right for when he emerged behind the tree. I squeeze, flinch and no gunfire. I regain my composure with my heart beating out of my chest, much more so than I can recall with deer, and then when he's in full strut facing me, I place the bead where his neck meets his chest. I squeeze again and BAM!!! Bird down and flopping! My 1st turkey. Unfortunately, a drainage ditch runs down the middle of the draw and this time of year has water. The bird flops right into the drainage ditch. Brooks is on him within seconds with me in hot pursuit. We retrieve the wet bird and we're both about as excited as a father and grown son can be. He gives me a high 5, big hug and back to the cabin we go with turkey over my shoulder.
My thoughts immediately went back 25 years as I witnessed him take his 1st bird. It was only appropriate that he was with me doing the calling on my 1st bird. Quite a day for the memory book!
With the bird being soaked from it's encounter with the mud hole made for some not perfect pics with its feathers all matted.
