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The Wait for Gobbles and Drums
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 We wake up early. We slide out of bed. We jump into our camo. We grab all of our gear. We scurry to get out the front door. We hop in our truck. We get on the road. We find our destination. We walk quietly. We walk slowly. We creep into the woods. We locate them. We get set up against a tree. We wait. We take a deep breath and wait longer. We listen attentively. We hope for some action. We scan the surroundings as the dark starts to lift. We sit silent and take another deep breath. We wait. We listen to the birds get anxious. We wait. We listen for the fly down beating of their wings. We know it’s time. We hope. We wonder. We wish. We wait.
We ponder a million scenarios in our heads. Which direction will they go? Will they cross over the opposite ridge? Will they head towards me? Will the hens take them away? What is going to happen? Turkey hunting is a game in the woods. Our uniforms are made of camouflage and our playbooks are filled with dynamic variations of cutts, purrs and yelps. Not knowing, yet predicting from past experiences of the wily bird, we make a game plan and we follow through. We must move quietly, swiftly yet not to be detected by these birds. Their defense lie in their amplified sight and hearing. Our offense is our patients and quick thinking. We wait.
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| My first Oklahoma Rio, compliments from Elliott Farms, where true southern hospitality and tradition lives. Thank you Joel and Neil, again for everything and for my dear friend, Janice Baer for sharing this hunt with me. |
After the fly down, we wait patiently. We call softly. We sit still. We notice something moving in the distance. We stare and ponder. We wait. We see the glint of a red, blue and white head in the distance. We watch the birds come closer out of the wood work. We wait. We hold still. We gaze at them expanding into full strut. We stare at them promenading around in circles like flamingo dancers. We wait. We view them showing off with their iridescent feathers gleaming in the warm sunlight. We call. We stare at them extending their necks and gobbling loudly. We wait. We examine the distance and know soon it will be time. We feel our own heartbeat pumping with fierce adrenaline. We watch the birds move closer with their long prehistoric looking legs and feet. We wait for the perfect shot. We take a final deep breath. We shoot. We watch to see the ending. It’s glorious. It’s great. It’s what happens when a game plan comes together. We thank the Lord for allowing us this very privilege. We celebrate in happiness. We feel accomplishment. We feel satisfaction.
One more year with the other season’s changing but soon enough it will be spring again. Where the crops begin to push out of the Earth, the flowers begin to bloom, the turkeys gobble and drum, the waterfowl migration heads north to breed, baby cows are born and can be seen frolicking in the green pastures, the smell of fresh-cut alfalfa blows in the air on a windy day, and so many other wonderful things can be experienced only in the spring. We will wait for the spring to come again soon. We will wait to hear the turkeys gobble once again. We will wait and reflect on the experiences and memories made out in the woods. We will wait and wait we will do.
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