My First Turkey Hunt

My story started about this time of year back in the early 80's. I was sitting around the kitchen table with my buddy, John. I was grousing about the fact that my first deer season had ended, and I was going to be bored until next Fall. John said he would help me find a spot to hunt for next year and called an old friend of his that lived over in Hocking County.

Gordon owned 80 acres of orchard on Rt 93, south of Logan. The freeze of 73 had killed off most of his trees, so he'd had to resort to some interesting alternatives that grew on the property. A lot were jellies and such made out of things like dandelion, sassafras, rose hips. He sold them all from a barn market out at the road.

Gordon answered John's call, and after a short introduction, John handed the phone to me. Gordon said I was welcome. The deer always came along and knocked the fruit off the trees and the turkeys would knock the blossoms off in the Spring. I was welcome to whatever I wanted.

Turkey? Hmmmm. I had never thought about turkey. I looked up the subject in a book and then read about them in the Ohio Hunting Rules. I had to apply for a tag by mail. Within a few weeks, I'd borrows my Dad's Win Model 12 trap gun, thrown together some camo, and gone out looking for some calls and ammo.

I ran into a guy at the Sportsman's Headquarters in Sharonville one Saturday. I'm still trying to figure out if it was Dick Kirby himself. The guy put a Quaker Boy Grand Old Master box call and some mouth calls and a Benn Lee tape and gave me some encouraging words.

I went hunting with another buddy of mine, Big Bob. Bob had a heck of a time getting out the door that weekend-- spent half a day looking for a shotgun it turned out he'd lost. Then we had to go to a buddy of his to borrow a 12 GA O/U. We finally hit Gordon's farm about 11 PM that night, set up a tent and went to sleep. Well, at least Bob did. Bob snored like buzz saw.

The next morning, we got up and out at first light. I whipped out my box call in a likely spot, a stump pile overlooking a large creek bottom. Halfway through my first run of yelps I had a gobbler answer me. I was hooked for life. Bob pointed in another direction and wandered off. I chased the birds all morning down in that creek bottom-- had no idea what I was doing. Legal hunting ended at Noon. At about 1130, I was camped out in some thick bushes overlooking a small pond. A hen stuck her head out for a brief moment and then took off. That was it. Hunt over.

Bob had found a stump and smoked cigarettes for about an hour and then gotten bored. I found him up with Gordon, swapping yarns. We packed up and headed back to town.