Being a Turkey Hunter

After eight days, the 2015 Spring turkey season can be summed up as interesting but not spectacular. During each day of hunting there has been some form of encounter with a turkey. The interaction might have been a simple gobble or sighting to an all out yelping match with a flock of hens. There has been a few disappointments balanced by heart pounding elations Not a shot has bee fired or even contemplated.

About a third of the way through each season there is always a moment when I wonder why there is a need to keep getting up from a sound sleep at 3:30 AM in order to sit in the woods with great expectations of shooting a bird. Hearing gunshots on opening day makes me smile; the turkey hunting brethren is having enough success to break a shot. By Day 8 the sound of distant gunshots serves to selfishly make me mad.  Someone besides me has one less tag. When I finally do connect, nobody is going to actually hear the twang of my bowstring.  Metaphysically, the disruption of the turkey hunting force will be detected by everyone sitting in wait for a turkey to present itself.

This season has been exclusively marked encounters with hung up birds my frustration is being projected upon the once highly coveted and revered turkey. As the season goes forth without any shooting opportunities the language becomes modified with some expletive preceding some euphemistic phrase for describing turkeys. If the shotless trend continues, the epitaphs will revert to a simple profane modifier.  Any shooting opportunity clears the slate and the beloved turkey is once again held in high regard.

My circadian rhythms have begun to adjust to the early start to the day. My sleep patterns have not so much adjusted as shifted closer to the dawn. The alarm clock has not disturbed my slumber for a few days. My wife appreciates the ability to wake up on time without the use of the alarm. When I leave the bed she shifts towards the middle obviously enjoying the extra space to spread out.

Entering the middle third of the season my self-image as a “hunter” is well established. As a matter of fact I am an excellent hunter, a successful hunter, and experienced hunter by strict definition. Various dictionaries define hunting as follows: 

1. to chase or search for (game or other wild animals) for the purpose of catching or killing.

2. to pursue aggressively in order to capture.

3. to search thoroughly; scour.

Please notice how nowhere in the definition of hunt is there any mention of actually capturing, taking or harvesting game animals.

Hunting in and of itself is a very enjoyable experience. Locating turkeys is a small victory, calling them closer is another victory. A successful harvest is tangible proof of finding and luring skill. Each season I start out as a turkey hunter and evolve into a turkey harvester. Every season there is a seat on the emotional rollercoaster of chasing the #&%*^#$% turkey.