As I rolled over in bed, I wiped the crusties from my eyes in an attempt to help my eyes open for the day. It was just after 3 in the morning. I laid awake all night, dreaming of what my first harvest would be like. Filled with emotions, I was excited to interact with nature yet fearful that I would mess something up. So many scenarios ran through my mind. I was hunting with several experienced people, yet I had no experience. I was intimidated, yet eager to learn. It will be okay I thought. I can do this, I’m with people who will help guide me through. I fought through the fog of no sleep to gather all of the gear I had borrowed from friends. The dense fog made it nearly impossible to see where we were as we drove to our planned hunting location. I fought my eyelids the entire way.
We set up in three different, yet close locations. My close friend and I sat in a blind with one of the guys. We sat quietly at first, listening to the forest awake. The drum of a grouse bounced off of the hardwood trees. The condensation from the fog dripped off the tent. I reveled in the stillness of the morning, absorbing the energy of the forest rising around me. One of the guys let out a soft hen call. I held my breath, awaiting the gobble of a tom. Nothing. As the rain drops began to fall harder on the blind, so did my spirits. No harvest for me this time I thought. A couple hours later, we decided to give in. We had heard nothing except rain. The turkeys weren’t talking. They were roosted up, staying dry. We were all exhausted, down from the weather, and ready for a nap. As we packed up however, the sun started peeking out from behind the clouds. I had one last idea in mind; my grandfather’s place. I had seen a few turkeys there while riding four wheelers through the fields with my cousins while I was younger. I had no real knowledge of what was there, yet we had nothing to lose right?
I called my grandpa, praying he would let us hunt. He was excited about the idea. He had hunted when he was younger, yet hadn’t in several years. We drove to the back of the field, close to the treeline. We had all taken much of our camo off. We decided to call from the treeline to see even there was even a response. Ryan let out a hen call. My heart seemed to leap into my throat as I heard several long gobbles in response. Camo began flying every direction as we scurried to cover ourselves. We needed to get in the woods and undercover, quick. I put my head down as I followed Ryan into the woods. I didn’t want to be the one to step on a stick and be loud. Every foot I placed with intention as lightly as possible. We soon found a good spot to sit with several shooting lanes. Ryan and I sat side by side against two large oak trees. Our friends found trees just behind us, hoping to catch the action. A more excited hen call was made, causing a response that made my heart beat faster.
Another excited yelp was made. My ears were now pounding with the beat of my heart, yet I felt an odd calmness surround me. One more call. I could hear them running. The leaves were rustling, they were jumping the downed trees, running towards us. Running. Suddenly I caught a flash of movement, then another, then I saw one. Then I saw them. The light filtered through the tree leaves and illuminated the fan of several tom turkeys as they puffed up and spread their fans, attempting to impress the hen waiting. I stopped breathing. “Have you ever heard one gobble up close?” Ryan asked. I shook my head slowly in response. They were less than 15 yards away. He called one last time. The toms deflated like a popped balloon, their heads and necks stretched forward. I was just registering the emotions I felt when they let out their loud gobbles, almost in unison, when suddenly the ground seemed to shake. I heard loud thuds as they puffed themselves back up, spreading their fans for the sunlight to illuminate once again.
“Okay, we are going to shoot on three. Safety off, aim for the head.” Ryan reminded me. I took a deep breath as I clicked my safety off. I looked down the barrel of my shotgun, lined up the beads and found my target. “Ready?” I gave a slight head nod, trying not to lose sight of my target. I couldn’t speak. My pointer finger clammy against the trigger. I steadied my breath as Ryan began to count. “Okay, one, two….. Three.” A gentle squeeze of the trigger and there was a sudden stillness around me. I heard nothing other than the click of my safety going back on.
I could only faintly hear the hoots and hollers of my friends as we stood to go inspect our harvest. Three turkeys down. With my limited hunting experience, I never thought about the fact that the shotgun pattern may hit another turkey. I shot two in one shot! Luckily in NY, you are given two turkey tags for the season. My first kill, tagged out, one shot, two birds. I took another deep breath as I studied my harvest. I laid a hand on one and felt the need to silently thank them for their sacrifice. From that moment on... addicted.
