It was a typical Midwestern end of fall day, thirty degrees in the morning and fifty degrees by mid afternoon, hazy and wet. After having no luck on the farm in western Kentucky that morning we tried a new tactic on the opposite side of the farm that afternoon.

My brother in-law Michael, nephew Dakotah, and I set up on the highest ridge of three ridged gulley covered in hardwoods. I took front position, gun in hand, and my first functional box call I hand crafted nestled beside me in the leaves. Dakotah took middle position wielding a personalized box call made for him by Michael and a wing bone call he made from his first turkey. Michael took the back position armed with his customized diaphragm call by his own design, one of his hand turned glass calls, one of my hand turned calls and a complete arsenal of strikers.

After positioning ourselves in deep cover we began our choir of turkey talk. Mike yelped and cut that diaphragm as it was a part of his anatomy, then a high raspy yelp from Dakotah’s box call, finally the verse would end with me lightly clucking with gentle taps on my box call at my side. We were a force to be reckoned with; throwing purrs and clucks that would definitely pique the curiosity of the nearby turkeys.

Mike and Dakotah would intersperse the calls they had melding the sounds into the forest chatter as I remained dedicated to the occasional subtle cluck and purr. After twenty minutes or so we backed off the calling to assess the situation.  Almost immediately Mike began calling again. I thought to myself we might be over calling a bit when I realized mike was really out doing himself he was making clucks and purrs an yelps all at the same time, then I said to myself “hang on” and slowly looked behind me and sure enough forty birds right on top of Mike.

I scooted around the tree to line myself up with the birds, but in doing so I also lined myself up with Dakotah and Mike was so dug in I couldn’t spot him. I whispered to Dakotah for some light clucks and Mike was purring a song that left those birds in a state of concern as if they were conflicted, torn between staying or going about their business with the rest of their flock or joining ours. Mike and Dakotah had those birds pacing a path in the earth for a good forty minutes, but I never had a clear shot.

When the last hen left my vision my anticipation and anxiety got the better of me and I decided to better position myself to see where the birds were headed and I pulled a turkey hunting mortal sin and stood up. I couldn’t hear Mike saying it but I knew he was whispering “what are you doing” and he was.

I stood up slowly and hit the box real gently to assess their location and just as I  was about crawl to my improved position I heard the rustling of brush behind me, I slowly side stepped around the tree, like military operative sneaking in on the enemy.  As soon as I positioned myself two great big long beards flew up into the trees fighting and scratching for the best perch, that’s when I realized for the past hour we had been completely surrounded by turkeys at least a hundred.

The plot of land across from me was about three feet higher than where I was sitting so standing up turned out to not be such a bad idea and my fellow hunters were no longer in my line of fire. I then knew my time to shoot a bird was almost up it was forty five minutes before dark and the toms had already started jockeying for position.

The bigger of the two long beards won the battle and the smaller of the two fell to the ground, I could hear the popping and clucking of the other turkeys but I could see none. Then it happened just like a scene from a hunting video I meticulously studied over and over before going hunting, a head pops out from behind the brush and immediately goes behind a huge oak. I lifted my gun and aimed at the appropriate height and waited for him to pass the tree. Then his head peeked from behind the tree “BOOM” the kick of the three and half inch shell slams me up against the tree and all I see is fluttering wings and I let out a holler of such content that all the creatures in the woods were now aware of our location.

It turned out to be a good size Jake with a double beard and not even nubs for spurs, but if one asked me he was the most beautiful Jake to ever walk the earth.  It was a good first turkey hunt and just the beginning of many more to come.

Tommy Housman