March 27, 2011 First Gobbler

I shot my first turkey on my first turkey hunt, one month and 4 days after the death of my father.  My friend, Larry, invited me to hunt on his lease in Caswell County.  It turned out Larry couldn't go but his son, Michael, was game.  To say we had no idea what we were doing would be a complete  understatement.  I'd watched a few videos, purchased and practiced with a box call a couple months and even had a semi-realistic looking set of decoys. 
We trampled all over the place, calling and setting up decoys and killing mosquitoes and making, I am certain, all sorts of rookie mistakes.  After several hours, dehydrated, disheveled and pretty well discouraged, we were ready to call it a day.  Turkey hunting was terrible!
As we were riding off the lease we passed a large field and a couple gobblers were in feeding in the warm, spring sunshine.  Apparently we were too conspicuous, maybe it was the screeching of the brakes, because they headed back into the woods.  After passing the field, I quickly parked my Jeep in a ditch beside the road, grabbed the gear and hustled to the back of the field.  Maybe, just maybe those toms would come back. 
I stuck a hen decoy 50 yards from the edge and we crawled back into the brush several feet.  I sat against a small pine tree.  Michael set 10 yards away, up against a fence post. 
I nervously rubbed cedar against chalk and my Lynch call sounded pretty good, if I do say so myself.  One of the toms agreed and thundered a response from the timber.  Neither of us could believe it.  I tried to talk back to him but this time sounded more like a dying cat than a female turkey.  It didn't seem to matter.  He answered again and then walked into the field.  He was beautiful.  I on the other hand was a mess.  I called again.  This time it was more of a dying chicken.  I believe I heard Micheal snickering off to my right.  But it didn't matter.  This old boy had spotted the decoy and he was tore up.  He strutted a little bit but made a beeline for the fake hen.  I had presence of mind the have the gun propped up on my knee and even remembered to click the safety off.  My Remington's front bead covered the tom's head as I took a deep breath and squeezed the trigger. 
All I remember about the drive was how beautiful the day was.  We had the top down on my Wrangler and as we drove back to the house I kept checking the rear view mirror to make sure my prize was in the back.  Turkey hunting was wonderful!