Last turkey season, my sons, the Wildman eleven and Manimal nine years old, both harvested a tom turkey on youth day. Both birds were impressive specimensin their own right with one bird sporting a 10.5 inch beard and the other 1.5 inch spurs, each were just shy of 20 pounds, true trophies any sportsman would be happy to harvest. My youngest sat with me and shot his turkey in less than ten minutes, while my eldest sat with his Grampie and had to wait an excruciating long hour and fifty minutes. These gifts from the heavens didn’t just happen, they happened because I spent weeks scouting and tracking turkey movements with game cameras to lock down a solid knowledge of their daily patterns. I noted that these particular toms were strutting through our woodlot about every other day approximately between 7-9:00 am.
With young kids, 2 hours is about all their attentions spans can handle, after that they are spent and the downward spiral to not having a good time begins. Note that this timeframe can be stretched with chocolate and good reading materials! Knowing that I had a small window of attention, I rolled the dice, got the kids up much later than on a normal turkey hunt and crossed my fingers. Lady luck smiled on us, however, and my son and I managed to squeeze into the blind right just before a huge gobble erupted in the woods only a dozen yard from where we were sitting. I clucked once on the slate call and the gobbler ran into the small field where we were sitting. Manimal raised his shotgun and BANG it was over. After the shot, Manimal turned, looked me in the eye and said, ummm, ummm I do love me some smoked turkey. I laughed so hard, I nearly had an asthma attack!