At best, my turkey hunts in the past have been what I call practice for that hunt where I actually retrieve a bird after taking aim and shooting it. For more than four years now I’ve searched private and public acreage alike with an unending focus on those fickle wandering birds in attempt after attempt to bag an unsuspecting turkey with the chosen gun or bow in hand. Granted there is a huge difference in gun and bow hunting, in how you hunt as well as the distance of the shot you can take, not to mention the excitement of their fatal response to calls in the spring, but either way I’m there come turkey season.

Missouri has a myriad of timbered forest and grasslands not to mention crop land and mountainous regions from which to hunt wild Eastern turkey. Those who travel through the beautiful native features to hunt these species of game birds know well the challenges of turkey hunting in the Sho-Me state. The opportunity to hunt private and public land alike can result in filling both spring and fall tag limits.

My bow is not an AT&T model that will ‘reach out and touch’ a long yardage bird who is not meant to come my way or is alerted to my position, however in the challenge to get a bird after the previous season ended, I decided to use my camera to get a better shot so to speak. In daily observation of turkey habits I find them in the same areas frequented through the open season three to four times a week, foraging between the bent grasses and wandering in and out of wooded areas. The morning and evening hours are not always the same, but I guess that’s one reason they can be so hard to hunt. It is not likely that turkey respect the private and public land boundaries that they are hunted from and I suspect that they have an uncanny ability to perceive if you actually have permission to pursue them into that farmer’s private meadow. I have stalked turkey on foot with a bow and in my vehicle for photo opportunities and they always run just far enough away to keep me at a distance and them out of danger.

Not getting the bird close enough for an archery shot or getting busted by a wise long beard is frustrating to the point of making me feel like a greenhorn with a story to tell, but no bird to show. Somehow, my memory always takes me back to the day I actually shot my first turkey with a shotgun, but there is no consolation in this event only motivation to hunt turkey. It was about three days into Missouri’s fall turkey season. A few years back in southwest Missouri in the vicinity of Pomme De Terre Lake a few miles from the Lindley Creek arm. It was mid-morning in the rural countryside as I watched from the back yard while my quarry took its time moving my way from the front yard. I waited patiently with my husband's trusty old heirloom 16 gauge shotgun, as I watched three toms leave the protection of the wood’s edge to join a hen who happily ignored them and continued eating in the bug infested clover in my yard. I was safely hidden from sight some 55 yards away behind a huge oak with a massive trunk that provided cover. I waited for almost thirty minutes, barely withstanding the anticipation of the soon to be mine gobbler who was circling ever closer into the kill zone. I had watched these three turkeys several days now returning to feed in my front yard and I knew that they would be likely to spend some time there before moving on. When the bird of choice was in range of about 35 yards I took aim as they stopped mid-strut and looked at me, taking a bead on his motionless head I fired and knocked him to the ground. "Yes!" I yelled confidently. Once I started toward the downed bird though he got up and ran toward the woods, so I opened the barrel and reached for another shell, but my empty shell casing wouldn’t eject; it was stuck beneath the firing pin! I’m telling you I worked and worked to get that spent shell out and could not. Antagonizing me further all three toms returned later that morning to eat in the clover again. Not only did I have to have help getting the gun emptied so I could use it again, but my husband was more amused than I thought he should be at my misfortune.

Every year when spring comes and again in the fall I continue my search and after all this time I’m still unable to shake the need to get back out there and wait for that turkey. This fall I wandered through several acres of conservation land in Northern Lafayette County that borders the Blackwater River looking for sign and choosing just the right spot for my next archery hunt for turkey. There were individuals and groups of turkey to be found out in the open on any given day except for breezy days when they stayed in the timber pecking through the brush.

As I headed out on a windy October day beneath the falling leaves and walked into the timber to my favorite little hillside niche, I couldn’t help but notice that the trees were beginning to look a little bare. I quickly set up and began to watch from the blind just above the crest of the ravine I’d chosen to overlook. After about an hour of regrettable stillness, due to an oversight of forgetting my mouth call, several turkeys descended the opposing hill and slowly made their way toward me through the leaves. Their toes crunched upon the brittle leaves and even when the brush was too thick to see them I could hear them scratching and walking their way closer to my position above them. Looking through the branches I strained to see a black and tan blur of feathers until I could see a large tom with a beard that almost touched the ground. The other birds in that group never came that close, but I could tell from a distance that they were almost as large as the one beneath me. After about an hour of watching them walk back and forth through the thick brush below the hill they all wandered away without ever coming into bow range. I don’t know of anything more frustrating than wanting what you can’t have, except an almost, but not quite attempt that has left you with a bad case of turkey fever.