The end of every season feels that way to me. From harvesting a bird, having chances at a couple more (they were smarter than me), some beautiful mornings and an 18-hour drive with my dad to Nebraska, where I was able to fill two of my Nebraska turkey tags, this season was full of triumphs and failures, new experiences and a whole lot of fun.
I began my turkey hunting career four years ago. At the time, I was skeptical of my chances to harvest a bird. My Dad tagged out in Kentucky, Tennessee and Alabama that year after taking a break from turkey hunting for a while, but like any kid and parent duo, if he could do it, I thought I could do it better. So, I borrowed one of Dad’s old turkey hunting vests and decided to join him on a hunt.
It was nothing like I expected. Being in college at Auburn at the time, we planned the hunt near the end of the season when exams finished because we were hunting four hours away in north Alabama. If you are a turkey hunter, you know end-of-season turkey hunting in the South is hot and humid. My first turkey season was exhausting, hot and full of frustration especially when I missed my chance at my first bird.
It ended up being worth it because the next season, Dad and I were lucky enough to double up and I harvested my first turkey.
This year’s turkey season included a memorable trip to Nebraska, but some of my favorite moments happened much closer to home. I didn’t get to hunt as much as I wanted to, but I was blessed to harvest another bird beside my Dad.
The morning of our hunt started out quiet in the woods. The week before, the turkeys had been hammering on the roost, but this morning we heard maybe three gobbles from what we suspected were the same two birds. After a while of not hearing anything else we headed their direction.
Being in rugged north Alabama, we had to hike up a hill where we sat, waited and called. For about an hour, we heard nothing. It was a chilly morning, which I took for granted at that point in the season. It was one of those hunts where you are waiting for the sun to hit you and warm you up. I had just gotten partially into the sun when Dad looked over at me with wide eyes.
“Did you hear that?” he said. “I think it came from above us on the road to the right.”
I replied, “Let’s get a little closer,” figuring a tom was probably henned up above us.
We were turning a corner when he motioned for me to get down right as we walked up on two hens in the road. Surprisingly, we hadn't bumped them too bad so we waited them out until they eventually walked into the woods.
Many have said that the ability to sit still and be patient defines a good turkey hunter. During my time as a turkey hunter, I’ve learned that statement is very true.
After practicing more patience and hearing nothing, we decided to walk the tree line to the edge of the hill at the end of the road to see if we could hear or see anything. I crow-called, and then I heard a faint gobble, probably 200 yards away. I looked at Dad to see if he heard it too or if I had gotten to the point of imagining things.
"I didn't hear anything" he said.
"Well call again, I think I heard something" I said. He called again and sure enough he heard it that time.
Given it was the only bird we had heard in a while, we decided to go after him.
We walked across the field into the woods to the area of the gobble and called again. We heard a double gobble and then a separate gobble higher up. With Dad on the slate-call and me set up on a tree above him, we sat and waited. We had a slight disagreement about where to sit because I thought the tree I picked was far superior to his. He said I would regret it. Spoiler, I did.
Dad was calling and they were responding. He called. They gobbled back. He called again. They gobbled back again. This dance went on until four birds came in with beards swinging. They were across from us and then walked into a ditch below us, probably 40 yards away, before ending up right below Dad. It was in that moment that I regretted my set up tree choice. They walked past him into some brush, and we couldn’t see them for a few of minutes.
I thought to myself, “Did I really just lose my shot over being stubborn about what tree to set up at?”
We hadn't heard anything for maybe three minutes, but it had felt like three hours. Dad called again, and all of a sudden we heard multiple gobbles. I slowly turned and saw, through a sliver of brush, that they had made their way out into the field. I belly-crawled out of the woods to the edge (my tree was closer so I chalked it up to me being right about my set up spot). I had my new TriStar 20-gauge that Lt. William (Bill) Freeman from ADCNR’s R3 section had recommended, and I felt pretty confident I could get a shot.
Two gobblers were in front and two were in the back. I waited until one finally stepped into a clearing between my cover of brush and pulled the trigger.
He was my first bird of the season and one of my biggest birds yet. It was such an awesome morning, and time well spent with my Dad. Our hunts are moments I will never forget. There is something about getting the chance to see four gobblers during a hunt and having someone to celebrate with when you get one that mess it even better.
Turkey hunting is something I love doing with my Dad, and I hope I get the chance to pass on experiences like these in the future. One of the best ways to keep the tradition alive is by participating in the Annual Turkey Brood Survey, which is taking place throughout the month of June. Tracking the number of turkeys you see throughout the season and after, help keep hunts like this possible for turkey hunters now and in the future. Your participation in this survey provides ADCNR’s biologists with the information they need to better understand and manage Alabama’s turkey population. It’s just one piece of the puzzle that helps support a sustainable turkey population and ensures Alabama’s turkey hunting tradition is available for future generations to enjoy. You can learn more about the Annual Turkey Brood Survey at https://www.outdooralabama.com/WildTurkeyBroodSurvey
