My quest for a Wild Turkey began five years ago when I was introduced to turkey hunting by my husband Richard.  I went hunting with him several times when we began dating, I’ll never forget the first time I heard a turkey gobble in the wild.  We were out the night before opening weekend trying to roost a turkey for the next morning.  We tried our owl hooter with no response, and then Richard pulled out his secret weapon.  We have found that a coyote howler is the best way to get a gobbler to respond when nothing else is working.  The gobbler rang out before the echo stopped.  I looked at Richard with big wide eyes, and he just grinned.

The first couple of years I just leaned against him and enjoyed the conversation between hunter and turkey.  I loved being there early enough to hear the world wake up.  It fascinated me how good Richard was at convincing the old wise gobblers he was a hen looking for a boyfriend.  I’ll never forget how surprised I was at the ability these birds have to bust you.  After bow hunting whitetail I thought nothing could be harder to fool, I was very wrong.  Turkey hunting has to be one of the biggest challenges a hunter can face.  After watching Richard take a few birds I decided I would try it when the next season rolled around.  Richard helped me stock up on turkey supplies so when season came back around me and my Remington 12-gauge 870 Express with 3-inch number four Active Melt Penetraters were ready!

On my first turkey hunt Richard called in one of the biggest gobblers either one of us had ever seen.  We were setting in a logging road bed on the side of a mountain, Richard was on my right.  The gobbler had gobbled early a long way off so we had used the run and gun technique and got very close to the bird.  He stopped gobbling as we settled into our spot.  We got comfortable and Richard began calling again.  Soon I heard the slightest crunching of leaves in the distance. Over the course of what seemed like forever the gobbler closed the distance.  The only problem was when I saw him he was coming in directly to my right side.  I whispered to Richard where the old tom was, but he couldn’t understand.  I tried several times to explain to Richard I didn’t have a shot and it was coming right toward him.  It must have been behind something from his view point.  The bird was within twenty-yards now and very suspicious.  I knew he was a wise old bird, because he had came in completely silent after he flew down.  I began to panic as the bird closed the twenty-yard mark.  We hadn’t had time to throw out a decoy so he was becoming wise to our game.  Richard still couldn’t see the gobbler so I slowly pointed.  I am sure any turkey hunter out there can tell me what happened next.  Putt..Putt..Putt.. Yeah Richard finally got to see him, but it was because he was sprinting away from us.  I was sure Richard would go crazy but he just started laughing.

Needless to say after several lessons learned, I finally harvest a turkey.  No it wasn’t a trophy gobbler but it was a big fat Jake that was awesome table fare.  He was out in a green field beside the house when we noticed him all alone we knew he would be easy to call.  We were positioned on a hill overlooking the field and reeled him in like he was on a string.  The funny part was I could see him when he stepped in the woods at thirty yards and Richard whispered to let him come on in.  He came to within twenty-five yards and went behind a tree; he was gone from my field of view.  A few minutes later Richard began whispering “shoot him, shoot him.”  When I told him I couldn’t see him it was his turn to freak out, but he did it without moving at all.  At seven yards Richard knew it was now or never.  The bird was staring right at him so he winked at it.  When he did the Jake putted and threw its head around the tree for a better look.  All I could see was his head and that’s all I needed.  After the shot he began to roll down the mountain so I ran after him, I was jumping trying to land on him to stop him.  Well, I landed on him and my feet flew out from under me.  When we finally landed at the bottom of the hill the turkey was on top of my face.  Richard swears it was the funniest thing he has ever witnessed.

Of course the Jake didn’t have a ten-inch beard nor did he have 2” spurs, but he was mine and he was a trophy turkey to me.  I thought I would never find a more exciting sport than bow hunting whitetail but I believe turkey hunting is close.  I didn’t take a turkey this past season.  I didn’t get to hunt a lot and when I did I learned my turkey calling skills are not quite as good as Richard’s.  I gave it all I had the days I got to hunt, but all I could find was a gobbler already henned up and I couldn’t call sweet enough to change his mind.  After I get a lot more practice under my belt I want to try and take one with my bow that will be the ultimate challenge.