My body says its 4am but my mind is arguing that it’s definitely time to get up and go, go, go. The bedside clock agrees with my body in bright red digits. Zane is in deep REM, breathing like Darth Vader . A couple hours ago he rolled over, grabbed one of my shoulders, mumbled something I believe was “please” and drifted back to sleepyland. I’m not sure if he was begging for another popsicle like the one he talked me into before bedtime or for the Star Wars plush toy he was lusting over at the Books a Million last night. It’s quite possible he was pleading not to climb any more East Tennessee hills, like the ones we traversed yesterday in pursuit of Tom turkey. My legs, the ones that know its four am right now, agree with him. Note to self: You should’ve taken some ibuprofen last night.
When we stepped out of Rusty’s yesterday morning it was spitting snow and sprinkling rain with a ten to twenty mph wind doing it’s best to penetrate my fleece pullover. Not exactly the conditions I envisioned when daydreaming of Spring turkey hunting back in the doldrums of winter. Zane was bouncing around the truck with the limitless energy God gives six-year-old boys. I was a little worried about the conditions but felt with the proper layers we could give it a shot. Not sure it we would be out for fifteen minutes or a couple hours but I didn’t want the elements to ruin his highly anticipated first turkey hunt.
We hunted a couple hours, trudging up and down some steep hills, exploring the nooks and crannies of some very beautiful real estate. Rusty and I called occasionally and hoped a tom would gobble. They never answered and we didn’t see a feather the entire hunt. Apparently the turkeys weren’t real thrilled with the dramatic change in weather conditions.
It rained sporadically, luckily nothing more than a light misting. Zane found some great sticks, a couple deer bones, a rock which was of great importance to him (I couldn’t tell the difference between it and the millions of others we passed by) and many other wonderful things. He never complained.
As we climbed back into the truck and Zane burrowed into his little spot in the back of Mr. Rusty’s truck he was smiling and chattering about all the things we’d seen in the woods that morning. I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself and praise God for the opportunity to see the world around us through the eyes of my son. Hopefully tomorrow he will get to see a turkey.
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