Hard Lessons

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• Thompson Center New Englander 12ga.


• Flambeau Hen Decoy


• A-Way Turkey Skinz


• Ol' Tom Time & Motion Turkery Vest


• David Halloran Custom Slate Calls


• Knight & Hale Diaphram Calls


• Medalist Silvermax Silkweight Base Layers


• Medalist Silvermax Cheyenne Pants


• Medalist Silvermax Stalker Jacket


• Medalist Silvermax Face Mask


• Lacrosse Alpha Burly Boots

Way back at the beginning of spring gobbler season, I was full of confidence and couldn't wait for opening day…and for good reason.  To say I'd been "covered up in birds" during my preseason scouting trips would have been an understatement. In fact, I basically decided to not tell anyone about what I’d been seeing for fear that they’d think I was a bald-faced liar. Luckily, my camera doesn’t stretch the truth and since the season is over and there’s not much chance of giving up a secret spot, I might as well share a couple of photos.

[caption id="attachment_5801" align="aligncenter" width="614" caption="The local boys strut their stuff!"][/caption]
[caption id="attachment_5806" align="aligncenter" width="614" caption="More gobblers than I've ever seen at one time!"][/caption]

With the amount of birds in the area, I didn’t think we’d have much trouble catching up with a few of them.

But that was over a month ago, and as veteran turkey hunters in PA will tell you, a lot can change after opening day. Yes, this year was more about “paying your dues” and being reminded “that’s why they call it hunting” than it was about putting birds on the ground. I heard a lot of local hunters grumbling about silent birds and their lack of success. But then again, what is success when it comes to outdoor pursuits? Anymore, I have a hard time feeling anything but contentment after spending a morning in the field with close friends and family. And after a long, hectic winter at home, I tried to enjoy every moment I was able to spend in the woods whether the gobblers were cooperating or not.

[caption id="attachment_5811" align="aligncenter" width="614" caption="Droppings and dusting areas were abundant in the local woodlots."][/caption]

As you might have guessed, my friends and I had several “close calls” and situations that “should have been”. One wary old bird even survived after strutting within 10 yards of my muzzleloader, simply because my partner’s watch alarm went off before I could squeeze the trigger. But after looking back on all of those hunts, there’s one that stands out above them all. And it shouldn’t come as a surprise that it involved a first-time hunter and “the one that got away”.

[caption id="attachment_5813" align="aligncenter" width="614" caption="Buck talks strategies as we set up in the overgrown field."][/caption]

Daybreak found me sitting behind the video camera panning across the silhouettes of my good friend Buck Weaver and his nine-year-old daughter Kaci. Another long-time hunting buddy, Al Hogue, was positioned about 20 yards behind me and was attempting to use his slate call to say good morning to the hen turkeys that were excitedly yelping and cackling in the creek bottom below us. Thundering gobbles too numerous to count echoed in all directions. I couldn’t help but smile and even though I should have known better, I thought to myself, “This is going to be too easy.”

[caption id="attachment_5814" align="aligncenter" width="614" caption="Buck and Kaci set up in our calling location."][/caption]

As the huge flock of birds assembled in the thick brush just out sight, Al cut loose with a series of loud yelps and cuts. A flurry of gobbles resulted, followed by a lone booming gobble that seemed to silence the other birds. It appeared like the boss Tom was between us and the flock, and the jakes wisely kept their distance. We all knew that Kaci would be happy with any legal bird, and experience told us that we’d have a much better chance of getting the younger birds in range before the old Tom. But on this day, it just wasn’t meant to be.

[caption id="attachment_5815" align="aligncenter" width="614" caption="The wily old Tom emerged in the brush."][/caption]

Kaci showed extreme patience and determination while we all waited for the first glimpse of black feathers. After over an hour had passed and both of my legs were asleep, I caught sight of the top of a huge fan about 75 yards away. I knew Buck saw it too, as he and Kaci slowly tried to turn toward the approaching bird. The wary Tom took his time and like they often do, hung up at about 50 yards.

[caption id="attachment_5816" align="aligncenter" width="614" caption="He finally came within range of Kaci's 20-gauge."][/caption]

Since Buck literally had his hands full with Kaci and I wasn’t sure if Al could even see the gobbler, I reached down and scratched a series of soft purrs on my slate call. It was more than the old bird could resist, and he slowly headed our way. But instead of coming straight in, the clever Tom circled to our right. As I followed him in the camera, he stopped squarely behind a big oak tree…at least from my point of view.

[caption id="attachment_5817" align="aligncenter" width="614" caption="A shot was presented, but the gobbler escaped unharmed."][/caption]

Hoping that Kaci would still be able to shoot when the big gobbler emerged from behind the tree, I told her to wait just a little bit longer. In hindsight, it was probably a mistake. When the monster bird appeared again, I whispered, “Shoot!” But Kaci was straining hard to keep her aim at the hard right angle that the gobbler had taken. The gun roared, but the shot was high and to the left. With the tips of his tail feathers blown off, the strutting gobbler took flight and vanished into the treetops.

[caption id="attachment_5818" align="aligncenter" width="614" caption="Buck, Kaci, and Al after a very successful hunt!"][/caption]

A lot of lessons were learned that day. Not just by a young hunter, but also by a father, a cameraman, and a wily old gobbler. You can bet that none of them will soon be forgotten. Sometimes I think back to decisions I’ve made that, at the time, seemed like mistakes. I often wonder if I could turn back the clock, would I act differently? It’s tempting to answer yes if we think about “what might have been” and that the result was somehow a failure. But I think lessons learned in the field, and also in life, have an important purpose that we may not always recognize at the time. And to me, it’s a privilege to have the opportunity to learn them. Thanks to everyone who shared time afield with me this spring. I am truly blessed and appreciate each one of you!