ARE YOU READY?

By: Craig S. Mortz

So, you jump in the car…

Drive 650 miles to Shelbyville, Missouri…

Wake up at 4:00 am for the next three days…

Enter as quietly as you can, so you don’t startle the surroundings…

Sit on the ground for hours in the morning darkness…

Scared to breath, for fear of being caught…

What is going on, you ask…Turkey hunting, of course.  But, not just any turkey hunting; this was my son’s FIRST turkey hunt.  Logan, my ten year old and I, had planned to visit a great outfitter friend of mine, Adam Gander of Double ‘G’ Outfitters, for the spring opener of the Missouri turkey hunting season.  After the nine (9) hour drive, we settled in at Adam’s home and obtained our non-resident licenses.  We then straightened out our hunting gear and relaxed, as best as possible for the morning events, before enjoying some home-cooking from Adam’s mom, Nancy.  

 
The Monday morning opener came with a heart-stopping alarm clock buzz at 4:00 am.  Logan and I were greeted by Adam and after a quick bite of breakfast; everyone was off to the hilly, timber regions of Shelbyville for some turkey fun.  Adam had scouted these areas and on the first morning he set us up in the middle of “turkey heaven”.  With the decoys in place, we began hen calling at daybreak.  Less than 30 seconds later, we counted 10 different tom turkeys responding to us.  The stage was set; we were seated in the front row for this adventure to unfold.  We had set down on the edge of a timber line, overlooking a 100 acre food plot that Adam had planted for his whitetail deer operations.  Then all of sudden, out of the timber came the hens, from all directions, all eight (8) of them.  Following close by were three (3) younger male turkeys - jakes.  I had to whisper to Logan that these were not mature birds and not what we were looking for.  I could feel his heart beating right through his MothWing camouflaged clothing in the Spring Mimicry pattern.  Then, there they were, from across the field, two (2) great big toms strutted out from the timber lot. 

 We called…They looked

We called…They strutted

We called some more…They looked some more

We called some more…They strutted some more

 The dance was on.  For the next three (3) hours, this parade went back and forth, back and forth, never coming within range of Logan’s Benelli Super Black Eagle.  The dance finally ended and off they went, never to return.  So it goes, when you’re hunting and Logan knows the routine, having sat with me numerous times in a stand for whitetail deer, only to go home frustrated that “they” won.  Tomorrow will be another day.

Early to bed and Tuesday morning was here.  Adam had picked a different spot to let the birds from the earlier day settle down.  Again, he picked a picture perfect turkey area.  In the dark and sitting in the morning dew, Adam let out a little hen yelp.  What happened next made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. From within 15 yards of where we sat, a big male gobbler “gobbled” right back at us.  The gobble was so loud that it actually startled all of us.  We had sat right under the roost. We waited for daybreak to see what was going to happen.  As the sun came up and cast light upon the field we overlooked, two (2) hens were spotted meandering our way.  With a sudden flap of his wings and a thunderous burst from the tree, the big tom was out in the field in front of us, strutting his stuff.  I don’t know whose heart was pounding harder, Logan’s or mine. 

So, you jump in the car…

Drive 650 miles to Hartland, Michigan…

Wake up at 6:00 am for school the next day…

Enter as quietly as you can, so you don’t startle the surroundings…

Sit at your desk in your fourth grade class…

And begin to tell everyone that will listen, what you have just done…