gamestalker
member
I think most any person will have some aspect of their life that describes, as well, as defines their character, a foot print they leave behind, if you will. And although I've been referred to throughout my circle of friends and family as a dedicated and proficient hunter, my true expertise has always been turkey hunting.
The last 5 days I've been turkey hunting with one of my Son's to whom I have been trying with every element of my existence to finish a hunt we started 20 years ago. But due to a serious injury I experienced, his dedication to his career, a deployment to Afghanistan, him getting married, buying his first home, and a number of other very impending elements of life, I have been unable to pass on my legacy to him until 6 days ago.
So we set out on a New Mexico Spring turkey hunt. Other family members joined us several days later to share in the experience, but the actual hunt involved just the two of us. We started with a successful late afternoon trek to find a gobbler on the first day, and then put him to bed for the next morning.
All went exactly as planned, we put the bird to bed, and then we set up on him the next morning before first light and then waited for the 9,500' forest to canopy to get full lit before starting to call. The adrenaline was pumping hard for both of us in anticipation of what was to follow. When the sun had done it's inevitable job, I produced a wing beat, then a barely audible soft purr, (tree call), which was then quickly answered with a seemingly ear shattering gobble. At this point I could literally hear the healthy, yet pounding heart beat of my Son as he was struggling to contain him self. Less than a minute later we heard the wing beat of our bird as he set down less than 30 yards in front of us. I had set him up with his back against a large tree, and then I was directly behind the tree in such manner that I could whisper directions directly into his ear, in hope of keeping him focused and to prevent any mistakes. The decoy's were set up 15 yards in front of him. As soon as the bird landed he saw the decoys and instantly began strutting, gobbling, drumming and heading straight for the decoys. My Son had the shotgun rested against his shoulder with the barrel on a shooting stick, so this allowed him to relax and maintain some composer while the bird did his thing. After a good 10 minutes of watching the gobbler destroy the hen and tom decoys, I then whispered to him to shoot him the next time the big tom stretched his neck and head out on the next gobble. A few seconds later that giant Tom performed that final gobble, which was then followed with a 1-3/4 oz. load of copper plated #4's to the head! At this point my 30 year old son, nor I, could any longer contain our composer, and we began balling with the biggest smiles imaginable. We finally finished what we had started 2 decades ago.
It didn't end there though. When we had returned to the cabin I received a text message from one of my Nephew's that I had mentored in the same fashion some 25 years earlier. "Thank you Uncle Mike" and a picture of a beautiful gobbler displayed on the lap of his Son, who he had just guided in the same manner as I did on this very same morning. These are memories that will be cherished for years to come, and a legacy that has now extended 2 generations. Our hunt ended Saturday morning with 4 nice Toms, and 2 very tired and satisfied men! I don't think either of us have slept more than 8 hours over the last 5 days, exhausted is an under statement.
My Sons gobbler weighed nearly 25 lbs. before preparing it for the freezer, larger than any I've guided or killed in all my years of turkey hunting. And he had a 10" beard, which was only 1-1/2" shorter than the longest in my life time. And from the pictures my Nephew sent, his sons gobbler was of similar size.
As soon as my Son has a moment to help me, as promised, I will share with everyone all the pics of both our birds, and that of my Nephew and his Son, my great Nephew.
God Bless!
Mike
The last 5 days I've been turkey hunting with one of my Son's to whom I have been trying with every element of my existence to finish a hunt we started 20 years ago. But due to a serious injury I experienced, his dedication to his career, a deployment to Afghanistan, him getting married, buying his first home, and a number of other very impending elements of life, I have been unable to pass on my legacy to him until 6 days ago.
So we set out on a New Mexico Spring turkey hunt. Other family members joined us several days later to share in the experience, but the actual hunt involved just the two of us. We started with a successful late afternoon trek to find a gobbler on the first day, and then put him to bed for the next morning.
All went exactly as planned, we put the bird to bed, and then we set up on him the next morning before first light and then waited for the 9,500' forest to canopy to get full lit before starting to call. The adrenaline was pumping hard for both of us in anticipation of what was to follow. When the sun had done it's inevitable job, I produced a wing beat, then a barely audible soft purr, (tree call), which was then quickly answered with a seemingly ear shattering gobble. At this point I could literally hear the healthy, yet pounding heart beat of my Son as he was struggling to contain him self. Less than a minute later we heard the wing beat of our bird as he set down less than 30 yards in front of us. I had set him up with his back against a large tree, and then I was directly behind the tree in such manner that I could whisper directions directly into his ear, in hope of keeping him focused and to prevent any mistakes. The decoy's were set up 15 yards in front of him. As soon as the bird landed he saw the decoys and instantly began strutting, gobbling, drumming and heading straight for the decoys. My Son had the shotgun rested against his shoulder with the barrel on a shooting stick, so this allowed him to relax and maintain some composer while the bird did his thing. After a good 10 minutes of watching the gobbler destroy the hen and tom decoys, I then whispered to him to shoot him the next time the big tom stretched his neck and head out on the next gobble. A few seconds later that giant Tom performed that final gobble, which was then followed with a 1-3/4 oz. load of copper plated #4's to the head! At this point my 30 year old son, nor I, could any longer contain our composer, and we began balling with the biggest smiles imaginable. We finally finished what we had started 2 decades ago.
It didn't end there though. When we had returned to the cabin I received a text message from one of my Nephew's that I had mentored in the same fashion some 25 years earlier. "Thank you Uncle Mike" and a picture of a beautiful gobbler displayed on the lap of his Son, who he had just guided in the same manner as I did on this very same morning. These are memories that will be cherished for years to come, and a legacy that has now extended 2 generations. Our hunt ended Saturday morning with 4 nice Toms, and 2 very tired and satisfied men! I don't think either of us have slept more than 8 hours over the last 5 days, exhausted is an under statement.
My Sons gobbler weighed nearly 25 lbs. before preparing it for the freezer, larger than any I've guided or killed in all my years of turkey hunting. And he had a 10" beard, which was only 1-1/2" shorter than the longest in my life time. And from the pictures my Nephew sent, his sons gobbler was of similar size.
As soon as my Son has a moment to help me, as promised, I will share with everyone all the pics of both our birds, and that of my Nephew and his Son, my great Nephew.
God Bless!
Mike
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