is tell about hunting turkeys." The voice of Don came over the phone. He had returned my call to hear all about the turkey I had just shot. I was such an amateur that I did not even own a shotgun. I had borrowed one from him. I had left the message with his wife earlier that day and now he had returned the call. I was certain that he had heard these kind of stories before and that he would be concerned about spending too much time on a long distance phone call. He was oblivious to the fact that it was long distance and he was paying for the call. He wanted to hear the whole story.

The whole story started long before I met Don. Our tenant, Howard, is a person who lives to work. He is at work by sunup in the summer time, and before dawn in the winter time. He works until the tasks that need to be done are done. It is becoming more and more difficult to find a person who has that kind of relationship to work. From my vantage point there are two exceptions to his devotion to his work. The first is his church work, and the second is turkey hunting. If you notice carefully each spring and fall you can observe a week when he is not as punctual with the chores in the morning. Or perhaps there are several evenings when he sneaks away before sunset. He is busy scouting out the site where he will do his turkey hunting when the season arrives.

His is a veteran turkey hunter. He even subscribes to a Turkey Hunter magazine. I have learned that any time I open the subject of turkeys or turkey hunting in casual conversation I must give careful forethought. If it is necessary for me to do something else important within the next 30 to 45 minutes I avoid bringing the subject up. It can happen more than once in the course of several weeks. There is no end to the amount of turkey information that can be discussed. There is always something new to learn about turkeys. And there is an inexhaustible supply of turkey hunting stories.

I finally decided that in the spring of 92 it was time for me to go turkey hunting. I engaged Howard regularly in story telling, I gleaned all of the helpful hints that I could stand to glean. I borrowed his turkey call box and applied for a landholders license in January. The landholders license came in the mail in late February. Now the only obstacle was a weapon. I had nothing with which to hunt a turkey. I had met Don and discovered his interest in turkeys the previous year. When I indicated that I was going to try turkey hunting in the spring he asked what I was going to do for a weapon. I indicated that I was not certain. He volunteered that he would loan me his 16 gauge shotgun. I willingly accepted the offer, however, I said nothing about it to Lin. She was adamant that we should not have a gun of any kind in the house or on the property. Turkey hunting was one of those things which I knew I had to do. I also knew that there was no way she would understand that I needed to do it. And for that reason she would not give it her blessing. So there was no reason to discuss it further. There would never be a meeting of the minds; a family agreement about what I was doing. So I picked the shotgun up one afternoon and spirited it away to the bee house. She isn't fond of honeybees and so she seldom, if ever, frequents the place where I keep my apiary equipment.

There are some principal rules which govern turkey hunting. I had noted these from my conversations with Howard. The first is to get yourself in place and well hidden well before the sun rises. The second is make no movement. The turkey is apparently not much concerned about scent. But her/his eyesight is acute, and she/he can see minute movements at long distances. If you are in a turkey's line of sight, and you lift your gun to fire the turkey will be gone before you ever have time to take aim. Closely related to this is the fact that the turkey is able to sense danger from something as simple as a face, and perhaps even more specifically, the eyes of a face. Experienced turkey hunters wear a veil. This is usually hanging from the bill of their cap, and is colored in camouflage colors. The color of the garb is known to be another important. Camouflage colors are known to be the best. A hunter naive enough to wear any semblance of red in his outfit would be the laughing stock of turkey hunters everywhere. It is well established in turkey hunting lore that turkeys will run when they see red. I have always wondered if there was research done on this subject. But it was obvious from conversations about the subject that it would have been poor taste to query the issue. Since receiving my first turkey hunter's license I have been placed on a mailing list. Each year I receive a 50 page catalogue of turkey hunting garb and paraphernalia. Now to dress for the occasion. The previous spring I had been using my imagination to anticipate what turkey hunters went through. I observed that the first two seasons of the year take place in the last 20 days of April. I watched to see what I would have to go through to get into position by 4:30 or 5:00 am in the morning. I wasn't happy with what I discovered. The month of April was wet and clammy. I knew that the hills would be like grease when trying to get over them to the hollow behind my house. It was warm enough during the day for mosquitoes to have started to breed and to sit motionless in one position for any length of time would be extremely difficult. In addition to that the temperatures dropped to 35 or 40 degrees F overnight. That meant that I would have to go out in what seemed to be the middle of the night with a shotgun in one hand, negotiate my way up a 200 to 300 foot climb on wet Loess soil which seems more like Vaseline than soil. And since the ambient temperature at that time of the morning would be no more than 10 to 12 degrees above freezing, I would need to be dressed in insulated underwear. I could choose to ignore the temperature. But I have discovered, as I have grown older, that sitting motionless for any length of time in chilly weather usually leaves me with an uncomfortable chill long after I have come in out of the exposure. I had no desire to subject myself to that kind of exposure. Having stored all of these observations away in my head I applied for a license which would begin the 1st of May. I may not be out with the first of the hunters and get the first turkeys, but I will have the advantage of being a little more comfortable. I borrowed Don's 16 gauge shotgun and 6 shells. I had hoped to mimic Howard and make some reconnaissance trips to observe where the prime turkey hunting spot would be. We ended up with house guests for the last week of April. We enjoyed their company, but they were not outdoor enthusiasts, and we did not once get over the hill. I also chose not to call attention to myself by getting up to hike over the hills at 4:30 in the morning. The evening of day our company left I carefully rehearsed the steps I would need to take to go turkey hunting. I went to the laundry room and laid out my insulated ski pants and vest. I checked the parka to see if the pockets would hold the shotgun shells. I made sure that I could find both of my insulated leather gloves. I went to the bedroom and laid out my thinsulate underwear, my sweatsuit, and heavy orlon socks. I set my alarm for 4:30 am.

When my alarm went off in the morning Lin complained "What are you doing, its only 4:30?" I broke the news to her. "I'm going turkey hunting." She mumbled something and fell back into a deep sleep. My comment was obviously so far fetched that it could not be taken seriously at this time of the morning. Besides, she knew that I didn't own a shotgun. I felt ridiculous dressing as if I were going out into sub-zero winter weather. Not only ridiculous, awkward with the amount of excess clothing I was wearing. As went out I met Julang, our Red Heeler dog, who was waiting for me. I quickly locked her in the laundry room as I left. She would have wanted to accompany me and would have spoiled my chances of finding a turkey. Then I quickly went to the beehouse where I had stored the shotgun. I loaded it, locked the safety and began to make my way up the hill. About halfway up the hill I began to wonder if I had worn too many clothes. I was beginning to overheat.

I crested the hill, and made my way down to the hollow the other side of the ridge. The ridges of the hills run north and south. The hollow is a series of meadows between two ridges of loess, broken into small pastures from one to two times the size of a football field. The encroachment of trees bounded this series of pastures. The gully, which has developed as a result of the constant erosion that has been in process since the hills were formed, runs through the meadows like a gaping wound running the length of the hollow from north to south.

I turned left, going north through the first meadow. When I got to the 2nd clearing I chose a spot on a terrace overlooking the meadow and found a large cedar tree to use as camouflage. I snuggled back into the limbs so that I would be out of sight. I wiggled this way and that. It was 5:10 am. I slowly settled into a position which I judged I could maintain for the next hour and one-half. I positioned my shotgun on my right side so that I would be able to lift it to shoot a turkey if I should by chance see one. I placed the call box on my left side so that I would be able to get to it if I heard a tom turkey and wanted to try my hand at calling him. No sooner had I settled in than the mosquitoes began to arrive. Even though this was the first of May, the mosquitoes filled the air. For a moment I began to wonder if I would be able to hear the turkeys for the mosquitoes.

I sat dutifully for an hour and 45 minutes. During some of that time I heard a tom turkey calling for his hens. I tried my hand at the box call, supposing that I was giving him an answering call. There was no response. Either my call was not sexy enough, or he was too far away and could not hear me. Perhaps both were true.

I left at 7:00 am and returned home to get ready for work. During the day I decided that the tom must have come down the same trail I used over the hill and down to the hollow. If that was true my next move would be to set up my post at the first meadow north of the place where the trail meets the hollow.

The next morning I followed my hunch. I found a cedar tree on the edge of the terrace in the first meadow north of the spot where the trail over the hill meets the hollow. Once again I sat silently, immersed as if in a swimming pool full of mosquitoes. Once again the tom began his calling. My observation had been correct. The tom had come down the very path I had used 45 minutes earlier. Unlike me, when he reached the hollow he turned right and went south to the adjoining meadow. I peered through the limbs of the cedar and was able to observe his journey in progress. As he entered the first meadow a hen flew across the gully and joined him. He continued to make his way south and entered the next meadow. He continued to gobble as he went. One by one he gathered his hens. By the time he reached our south property line, three meadows later, he had collected 5 hens. I had made several attempts call the tom on the call box. He made no response at all. But I realized that I did not need to call him. I was able to make my way south from meadow to meadow all the time remaining out of sight of the turkeys. In the final meadow, I hid myself behind a large terrace and inched along on my stomach until I reached a scrawny cedar tree. There I took my post and waited for the tom to make his way, while grazing, into my sights. He wasn't coming close enough. I backed down the terrace and crawled to a spot approximately 50 feet further down the terrace. I took the safety off from the shotgun. I edged up over the top of the terrace, getting into position for a shot.. He was a bit closer. I waited another 5 minutes for him to walk into my range.

Finally I judged that he was within range and I fired. All of the turkeys rose from the pasture and flew away to the south. There was no indication that I had come close to him. Not even a feather floating anywhere. Baffled, I returned home, changed clothes and hurried off to work. I had a chance to talk with Howard later on that day and told him what I had done. He asked, "How far were you from the turkey?" I guessed that I was 50 feet. He indicated that I was too far away.

The season I had a license for was ten days long. So I had plenty of time to get my turkey. On the third day I went over the hill and turned south at the hollow. After I had gone about 100 feet into the meadow I went to the edge of the gully. I found a cedar tree and planted myself. This morning the tom would walk right in front of me. Surely I would get him. I waited in vain for an hour and 45 minutes. There was no sight or sound of a tom turkey. In the last 15 minutes it had begun to mist . Realizing that I had been beaten yet again I gathered myself up to go home, change clothes and go to work. Before I left I made a parting glance to the southern-most meadow where I had seen them feeding the morning before. To my amazement I discovered that some turkeys had returned to that meadow. There were not as many as I had seen the morning before. When I shot at them the morning before they flew off to the south. They must have spent the day migrating southward, only to return to our south meadow this morning to feed.

Once again I wound my way behind terraces, through cedar thickets, and raspberry patches. When I reached the south meadow I took up a position behind the scraggly cedar tree. The turkeys were more intent on feeding this morning. The were moving toward me. I looked out to my right and saw only the tom and one hen. Their numbers had dwindled. My attention was riveted to the hen and the tom as the gradually drifted my way while they fed. Without warning I saw a hen to my left in my peripheral vision. I was surprised to discover that there had been a second hen that I hadn't seen. She had gone around an arm of the gully which was extending its way upward into the meadow as she continued to feed and make her way to the gully. I feared the worst: that she had seen me, would give a warning cluck, and they would all flee immediately. However, she was walking away from me toward the gully, and apparently I had not moved, so I had not alerted her to my presence. She continued feeding, reached the gully, and vanished from sight. It appeared as if the other two birds were drifting in the same direction as they fed. I glanced back to my right only to see the tom and the other hen disappear from my sight among the tangle of cedar branches. The tom was in the lead when they disappeared from sight. I shifted my attention back to the left where I was certain they would be passing momentarily. I estimated that they were on their way to the gully just as the previous hen had been. They would have to go around the arm of the gully just as the other hen had done. That would bring them within shooting range. I brought the barrel of the shotgun to the spot where the tom would surely have to walk...I waited. The time lapse seemed like an hour, but it was probably less than a minute. A turkey appeared on the path, I squeezed the trigger, there was a loud report, the but of the shotgun buried itself into my shoulder for an instant. The barrel bounced upward. A turkey fell.

I said to myself, "I've got my turkey." and then a flood of self doubt came over me. What if there were more hens that I hadn't seen behind the branches of that cedar tree. What if I just shot a hen. I scrambled over the crest of the terrace and down to the turkey. A look at the tail and the beard confirmed that I had killed the tom. It was now 7:05 am. I was going to be late for work. But I was willing to be late this morning. I weighted the bird when I got back to the house. On the bathroom scales he weighted 23 pounds. I now had a 100% record as a turkey hunter. That was more than even Howard could boast. This year I failed to get my application for a license in on time. I enjoy being able to say that I have gotten my turkey 100% of the time I've gone hunting. In fact I enjoy it so much I may never go turkey hunting again.

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