It’s a no brainer to give some ink to the spring turkey seasons that are now underway. Being able to hunt in the spring is a welcome event and provides relief in that bow hunting ended some four months ago and doesn’t start for another four months or so. I look forward to turkey hunting even though I have done it for so many years which is why I’m a little bewildered that I drew the fourth hunting season for the second year in a row. Bewildered is a nicer word than I would like to use.

Since I’m not hunting for a few weeks yet, I have to go with the next best thing: the memory of my very first successful turkey hunt. It was a long time ago, but all first successful hunts hold a special meaning. It doesn’t matter if it was your first squirrel, deer, duck or turkey, you remember them all. Seriously, I can take you to the exact spot where I bagged my first squirrel. I can even remember that I was eating an apple at the time. It seems like it happened a hundred years ago. It’s remarkable that I can recall those details from that long ago but forget to pick up the mail on a consistent basis.

So back to reliving my first successful turkey hunt. I was scrambling for a place to hunt that actually held birds because it was in a time and place where birds were scarce even compared to today’s numbers which are down from historical highs. The night before my season started, I received a cold tip that a tom was seen strutting near Beldenville two days prior. That was the only bird sighting on any land where I had permission to hunt. The next morning, I slipped in along a tree line and picked what I thought was a good place to meet up with the tom.

I sat in the dark and wondered if it was going to be my year (it was 1996). I already had a disastrous hunt under my belt. That was also a time when tags weren’t available on an annual basis. 

I was sitting with my back against a tree, waiting for any sign of life when a thunderous gobble came down through the small stand of pine trees. HOLY SMOKES! The two-day old tip was gold. The tom flew down and landed some 75 yards away and broke into a strut. For the next half hour he held that pose and moved a whopping 5 inches closer to me. It was maddening and it got worse, or so I thought, when a shot rang out and the tom was airborne. I hadn’t seen or heard another hunter, so I wasn’t sure where the shot came from, but I didn’t have time to think about that because the tom was flying directly at me. Now remember, this was only my second hunt and what I knew about turkey hunting was limited. Luckily, I knew a lot about shooting ducks so when that tom was directly overhead, I gave him a short lead and then I fired. Instantly the tom’s wings folded and he plummeted towards the earth. When the 28-pound bird hit the ground, I was startled by the sound of the thud. The tom was boots up before he stopped rolling.   
So that’s how my first successful turkey hunt started and ended. I’m not sure how many birds I’ve bagged over the years, but I do know that this one was the best. All other birds will always be a close second.

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