Some would consider 3:00 a.m. as just getting back from a night out or precious time for sleeping. Most sportsmen consider 3:00 a.m. a perfect time to rise. I sure am one of those early risers. Many have never been out into the great outdoors at such early hours but those dedicated hunters who want to harvest a spring gobbler sure are. It’s the last weekend of May and I have had only one thing on my mind for months, can you guess? Yes, wild turkey and more wild turkey. My dad has been talking about this day for months. He is finally taking his seventeen-year-old daughter turkey hunting. Every time I walk into my house I see “Tom” the trophy banded turkey from Colombia County, New York that my dad harvested in spring of 2005. I have wanted to know what it’s like to harvest a game bird such as “ Tom “ and now I, hopefully, will find out.

My morning outfit consisted of kids' camouflage pants (since no adult sizes fit me), a black Mossy Oak short sleeve shirt, black Browning face mask, thick socks and Alpha Burley Larosse Boots in camouflage color, of course. “Let’s hit the road, Tori Lee!” Anxious and nervous at the same time, I hop in the passenger seat of my dad’s Avalanche. Columbia County, which is upstate New York consists of acres and acres of beautiful farmland, welcoming country folks and great turkey hunting.

Coming down the freshly paved road, I spot two enormous windmills, and never ending fields of corn. In the spring months farmers have just plowed and planted the corn seeds, so the fields are a dark brown shade of old broken stalks and kernels. The sky is black as night and the moon still the only form of light. Bump, Crack, Bump, Snap and Pop is what it sounds like to drive through dead corn. Those noises though are suitable to make because all it sounds like is a coyote or wild animal making their way through.

Before coming on my first turkey hunt I listened as my father gave me great knowledge about turkeys. Wild Turkeys are omnivorous and eat almost anything. Turkeys have impeccable - nearly perfect eyesight, excellent sense of hearing and a very nervous temperament. Since turkeys have these qualities you need to scout ahead and be prepared knowing turkeys could spot you from a thousand yards away.

My dad decided to place a blind where he thought turkeys may sneak through and feast on tasty kernels and worms. The blind looks like a small tent, light and easy to fold up, and is fully camouflaged to the environment you hunt in. It has multiple windows so you may draw your bow, and steady your gun wherever that gobbler may be.

My dad gives me a hug when we close the truck doors, and points to where we will be hunting. It is about a half mile in the horizon with nothing but small patches of woods and corn separating us from the turkeys that lurk within. My dad carries a large backpack filled with necessities such as turkey calls and peanut butter bars. In his right hand a female hen decoy, light as a feather, is a very efficient strategy to lure the male gobblers within range. Propped on my right shoulder is my dad’s Italian Benelli Black Eagle twelve-gauge shotgun. As that shotgun is slung around my shoulder, I hope the other shoulder will be covered with feathers, and spurs latched onto my hand in a tight grip.

Around 3:55 a.m. we arrive to the blind. Our blind is on the edge of a corn field. Behind us is a small patch of woods, and above us is where my dad saw turkeys roosting the other night. “Cluck, cluck.” My heart starts beating faster; this was the first time I have heard a hen talk! So excited I sat as still as I could and waited to hear something else. Out of the blue I hear “Gobble gobble gobble!” My dad softly gripped my shoulder and said “Did you hear that!” Quietly of course, I couldn’t verbally respond, I just sat there and smiled, as if I was posing for pictures at the Oscars.

Spring time is the only season that turkeys actually verbally communicate with one another. They do so because it is mating season and the male turkeys want to find a hen or hens to mate with. Once a gobbler spots a hen he usually stops immediately and begins displaying. Displaying, in other words, means flaring his fan and primary feathers in a puff-bodied look called a strut. Throughout the strut the tom vibrates his wings and makes a low pitched humming sound called drumming. Once in contact the rest is up to your imagination.

At around seven a.m. after minutes of excitement and anxiety, a small object makes its way up the hill. My dad puts his hand over his mouth implying to hush and points below the window to where the small object is. That small object was a hen, followed by three more hens a hundred and fifty yards away. At this point my hands begin to shake and since this was all so new and exciting I didn’t exactly know what to do. I signaled, should I get my gun? If there’s a hen, maybe there’s a tom? My mind raced so fast and my hands continue to shake.

We have a female hen decoy located forty yards in front of the blind. Ten minutes later behind the hungry hens I spot a turkey with its feathers fully flared and it seemed to tower over all the rest. “Oh my Gosh…Tori  T-H-A-T  I-S  A  B-I-G  G-O-B-B-L-E-R” inside my dad was yelling for excitement, but he said it as if we were in a library. I was so thrilled and so lucky to be seeing a gobbler. We watched closely and they came closer and closer to our hen decoy, with the male gobbler trailing cautiously behind. Luckily the hens were just fifty yards away with the male just sixty away. By then my dad pointed to my gun, and I silently, slowly moved my gun through the center hole. This huge turkey was right in front of me and getting closer! My heart was beating so fast, I thought it was going to jump out and hit the turkey in the head. The rush is like no other. The adrenaline pumping through my blood was more intense than riding the scariest roller coaster in the world.

I was so new at this, such an amateur and yet so ready to harvest my first turkey. I had doubt that I would choke and not be able to pull the trigger or that I would miss and never want to hunt again. As those thoughts came to my mind I looked to my left and saw such emotion and such excitement in my dad’s eyes that those thoughts quickly dissipated. The hens were just twenty yards away and quickly moving to the right to a small path in between this field leading into another. The path was on my far right and two of the hens disappeared in the brush. As my heart pounding, my breathing increased and the gobbler was now within shooting range. He was forty yards away and I had a perfect shot. I looked and focused and tried to line the two red dots with the turkey’s neck. He began to move. I looked up slowly, and my dad said “You got it Tori, shoot the turkey.” Refocusing I looked and my hands were shaking so bad I just couldn’t do it. I put the gun down, and the gobbler very slowly and alert walked towards that little brush filled path forty yards away to my right. My dad looked at me and said he’s leaving; this is your only chance; kill the turkey.” I wanted to so badly; I moved my gun beneath the window and crept it up slowly to the right open window. By now the gobbler was following the hens into the other field. I focused once more, took a deep breath aligned the red dots up with his neck and pulled the trigger. BOOM!

This was one of the proudest moments my dad and I have ever had. My dad took one of the turkeys and I grabbed the other and we laid them out in front of our blind and decoy. I was so happy, and we, of course, took a zillion pictures. That day was the best father-daughter trip we have ever had, and it sure will be hard to beat!