This is my first journal entry and I thought it would be so easy since I love to write, share pictures and tell stories. But I found it wasn't so easy this time. What should I write about my first time? I have so many memories to share. Should I write about my big buck, my first buck with a bow I harvested just a week ago? So I decided to write a little about myself, show you all some pictures of my memories over the years, but write a story of the most memorable and exciting memory for me this past year.
I grew up in a household of hunters. My father expressed his love of the outdoors and it spread to my mother, my two brothers and myself. I was even fortunate enough to have both my mother and my father with me when I shot my very first PA buck. And, although I was a girly girl at times, even now out of the field, in my dresses and heels at work, people find it hard to believe that I hunt and fish. But my love for the outdoors as I was growing up superceded my horse shows, basketball and later on my modeling. There is just something about the early morning air undisturbed and so pure. The sounds of the waking forests and the encounters of God’s many creatures.
As a child my father raised and bred Irish Setters and Blue Tick Coon Hounds. I followed my father every chance I could when the firearm came out. Walking miles just to see the setters at work in the field and retrieving my dad’s downed birds. When the blue ticks were kenneled I would run and ask, ”CAN I GO?”. Even knowing I was too young to harvest anything, I just wanted to be in the woods, following dad and hearing the bay of the hounds on a trail of a raccoon. Plus, I cherished the time spent with my father, family and friends. Not too mention a deep yearning for a sport I would grow to love more with each passing year.
The mentored youth program would allow my son to experience life’s many treasures as I did through the eyes of a hunter or hunters in this case, with the added bonus of being able to harvest a big game animal. Plus allowing him a better understanding and the thrill of harvesting such a majestic creature at the young age of 11 years old. Unlike myself, who thought the age of 12 would NEVER arrive!
Preseason scouting produced many sightings of gobblers for the opener of Pennsylvania’s first spring mentor youth season. Unfortunately, my son was unable to close the deal that day. Eight, that’s right....EIGHT gobblers came in all between dawn and 10:30 AM. Then a clean miss. Which if you can't humanely harvest your quarry, a clean miss is the next best thing. My son has helped out in Hunter Education classes numerous times, various trips afield and to the range, as all veteran turkey hunters know....it can never prepare you for you first encounter with a big boss gobbler at 40 yards, full strut, spitting, drumming, and gobbling like thunder. This gobbler was displaying every aspect of his dominance, gobbling to every purr and putt, canting his huge tail fan toward our hen and jake decoys and letting us know he was the BOSS gobbler and there would be no invasion on his harem! So it was a little un-nerving for him. He said he had NO IDEA turkey hunting would get his heart pounding out of his chest like it did. He was hooked!
My son and I have an understanding that education is first, our hobbies are second. But I have also learned that compromise can make life easier and provide good incentive. Especially if all parties involved are growing together favorably. As the cliche states, “It pays to get A’s”. I compromised with Jimmy that if he got his one bad grade up and kept his other grades where they were he could take off one day of school, provided he had no tests, to try one more time, in an attempt to redeem himself.
May 3rd was that day. As dawn broke only one gobble was heard way off in the distance. No worry. Jimmy was in good hands with Don who is an avid turkey hunter and excellent caller. A few cutts and purrs and yelps, produces an eager gobble. Knowing the name of the game is hide and seek sparingly, Don serenades the gobbler with some soft purrs hoping the gobbler will seek location of the lustful hen. One more sequence of soft yelps while turning his head and making the gobbler think she is walking away was all it took to close the distance. Don whispered to Jimmy, “He cut me off. He’s coming. Get ready buddy. Relax, get the gun up and ready. Keep it on your cheek. Remember put the bead on his head and squeeze easy!” Just then there was the visual of not one, but 4 jakes single file, four abreast. Don tells Jimmy “the bird closest is the biggest bird. If you are on him squeeze the trigger. He’s sees the decoys and is getting a little nervous.” Just then the youth model Remington 870 12 gauge, chambered with a 3 inch shell went off. The bird goes down and Don jumps up and is on the bird in seconds. Jimmy successfully harvested his first ever spring gobbler and first PA big game animal. It was a jake with a 6 inch beard. A trophy in anyone’s eye. Jimmy’s picture below says it all.
Later that day, Don and Jimmy went fishing in pursuit of crappies and pounded huge slabs on a grub tail and 1/8 oz. Jighead. Jimmy landed his biggest crappie ever.
His exact words to me were, “Mom this was the greatest day ever!!!” Music to my ears.
This is what memories are made of. It thrilled me to have my son have such a wonderful memory enjoying the outdoors. I have many memories in the field. In fact every time I go in the field is a memory to me. To me it is not about shooting or catching your limit. It is enjoying the sights and sounds. The laughs and times shared with family and friends. Enjoying what God gave us. It is a true gift! Being successful, is just a bonus. I hope to pass this on to my son. To enhance his experiences in life. Looks like he is off to a good start!
Below are just a few of my memories in the field from over the years. I hope all you enjoy your time afield as well.
Until next time! Teresa
No comments:
Post a Comment