A Walk in the Woods

Early Friday morning my Dad and I drove up to “the spot,” both eager to kill a bird the next morning. This had been “our spot” since I was little. As we pulled up to scout I could feel the adrenaline kicking in. I knew we were only scouting, but the thought of walking in the dark woods, listening to the birds chirp at first light, created a sense of calm within me. When we pulled in, Dad told me to put my camo on and get ready to head out. I followed what he said. As soon as we had our camo on, he said, ‘Let’s go Paisley.’ We stepped out of the truck, closing the door behind us without a sound.

As the afternoon neared, Dad and I walked up and down the trails, looking for tracks and listening for birds. We found quite a few tracks and heard a couple gobbles. Not long after, to our surprise, three birds in full strut walked onto the trail. Subsequently, we knew we wanted to hunt here the next morning. We headed to Cracker Barrel to grab a late breakfast and back to the hotel for a much-needed nap before our final opening morning youth hunt.

At 4 a.m. on Saturday, the alarm sounded. Dad and I threw on our camouflage and quickly stuffed a muffin in our mouths before walking out the door. The drive to our spot was the same, me asking questions I already knew the answers to. “What happens if we don’t kill a bird? What if I miss? Is the gun gonna kick? Dad, I’m nervous.” He replied with the same line, “Stop worrying, it’ll be fun. Worst case, we just hunt [again tomorrow].”

It took us 30 minutes to reach the spot. We threw on our camo in the car and slipped out to our spot. We trudged our way along the overgrown path, me following close behind him. We walked in silence, listening to the dancing of the trees and the crickets chirping in the early morning. The walk took what seemed like forever, the darkness made it feel longer. Tired from the long walk, I was still alert, turning at every noise, sharp eyes piercing the darkened shadows of ancient trees.

As the darkness turned to light, the woods started to wake. We were set up in our spot, birds chirping, owls hooting, and then hens yelping, followed by thunderous gobbles. We were in business! About 20 minutes went by and the gobbles became louder. At 7:20 a.m. my Dad was checking his phone when I whispered to him “gobblers.” To our left were two gobblers, both 15 yards away walking down the road, locked in on our decoys. I had the 20 gauge in my lap, and Dad slowly reached to switch the red dot on and safety off. He whispered “raise the gun.” I shouldered it as the gobbler paused from fighting the decoy then … BOOM! I did it … or so we thought. We were both all smiles, laughing and celebrating when the unimaginable happened: the gobbler jumped up and took off in a full sprint down the road into the woods. Dad jumped up and chased after him, looking everywhere, but the bird was gone.

Dad walked back to the blind, no turkey in hand. I can tell he saw the disappointment seeping into my eyes. He asked me what happened, and if I put the red dot on the base of the bird’s neck. “I put the bead on the base of his neck,” I said. My dad looked at me in awe. He checked the scope and the red dot was not on. It was 47 degrees and he must not have pushed the button all the way in. No wonder I missed. We were both so upset. I asked, “Do you think I’ll get another shot?” He just said, “I guess we will see.”

Forty-five minutes later another one came in from the opposite direction completely silent. I raised the gun and made sure the red dot was actually on this time. He slowly approached the decoy and realized something was off. He turned to leave and I shot. He jumped straight in the air and landed on his back. I got him. This time my Dad made sure he wasn’t going anywhere. High fives, smiles and hugs completed our last youth hunt. It was bittersweet but ended with success. Laughs and giggles filled the ride home as we talked about my miss and what followed. This became a weekend I will never forget.