As my Alabama turkey season has come to a close, I have had two of my worst seasons of hunting in back to back years. Yes, it was a tough season, but I couldn't help but smile on the way home from my last outing with a memory. I hope y'all enjoy it, and it helps you recall what connected you to the spring woods.
It was a crisp Alabama morning, the kind where the fog sits in the holler a little longer, and dad and I had just met Buddy at our turnoff. The only reason we were hunting with Buddy that morning is because he had a .410 I could borrow. I had been turkey hunting before (never seen one) but I was still too small to shoot the family 20ga. So it would be my first time ever have the chance to bag one.
We then cut out down the trail with no lights, because Buddy insisted. After zig zagging through what seemed 15 logging roads, we then reached a point and stopped. As the whipper-wills sang, he sounded off not 250 yards below us and to the left. Buddy knew right where he was and insisted we setup even with him so he could easily access us.
Buddy led my dad and myself in a single file line and told me and him to find a tree. Dad and I sat down,and as he was helping me ready my gun, Buddy slipped further below us about 40 yards to call. I don't remember the call sequence he threw at him but he gobbled his head off. This was the closest I have ever been to one gobbling on the roost, and I don't think there is another rush like hearing a gobbler rattling in big timber.
After about 15 minutes of that, the woods went quiet. I then remember asking dad what the weird noise I was hearing was, and he said "he's drumming and spitting. Don't move". Then he appeared, the snow white head cruising through the grey light. This was probably 35 paces, which was out of the range of my .410. And as soon as he appeared, he was gone.
He went two ridges over with hens so we moved with them. Buddy put dad and me at the base of the next ridge and him on the ridge across. He again hit the call and the gobbler fired back.
He about came running to the top of the ridge dad and me were under, but he had his ladies with him this time. The hens hated something about how dad and me looked on the tree together so they came to check us out. The gobbler stayed on top of the hill with the sun coming up behind him. Each time he gobbled you could see the steam escape his mouth. This went on for an hour or so until his ladies decided to take him away.
This is one of my best turkey hunting memories. I would call it more of a reason that I do it than anything. It didn't involve a kill, but it did involve family, friends, and the show of a lifetime.
