Trying to keep on schedule, with the Rio turkey under my belt, I flew out of

Houston and headed for Mexico City. I was cursed with bad flight luck and missed the connector flight to Campeche. Doug was with me and running the camera, once again. He just rolled with the punches as I freaked out that we had missed our flight and feared that the outfitter would leave for the Jungle without us. Doug stayed calm and continued to video my meltdown, like the true professional he is. You have to understand that I had been on seven planes by this point and only one of them had arrived on time and without problems. I was beginning to think it wasn't going to be the birds that would stop me from completing my goal, but the transportation. After staying the night in Mexico City, we jumped the next flight out. Arriving two hours late at the hotel we were supposed to meet up with the outfitter at, the clerk told us we had just missed the other hunters and the driver. He said they were going to stop by the airport and check to see if we had made it in. If they didn't see us, they were going to leave us and head into the Jungle. After all, it was a six-hour ride ahead of them. Feeling defeated and almost sure I was stranded, I looked out and saw a Suburban pulling up with five Americans and a driver. It was the other hunters and a guide looking for me. I was never so happy in my life. The guys that introduced themselves said they just couldn't leave and miss meeting the girl that was crazy enough to bring a bow and trudge into the Jungle all by herself. What a relief. Jan was the hunter that had been on this hunt before and it was his determined efforts that made this hunt possible for me. I don't know what I would have done without him or the other guys that I shared this adventure with. They all took me under their wing, from the minute that I met them. I instantly had five father figures along on this excursion.

The ride from semi civilization to deep dark jungle was a long one for sure. We drove along the gulf for a few hours, and then to a little village in the middle of nowhere, we traded in the suburban for jeeps. Three jeeps took us deep into the jungle. We traveled for six hours, on paths that I wouldn't even call a two-track. I come from two-track heaven and these take the cake. I was so excited to be experiencing this kind of adventure. Once we reached camp, the Howler monkeys greeted us. They are no bigger than a big tomcat, but make a noise that would make a gorilla turn and run. The other thing is that this noise is kept up all night long. They get in the trees right above your hut and have at it. It is like two lions with laryngitis engaging in a shouting match. We each had a hut that was just like Gilligan’s Island, except, we didn't get thatched walls. Ours were green netting. We had a make shift shower and toilette. Four star, considering the location. There was a pavilion for eating. We called it the dining room and the kitchen was an open hut back off to one side. I think I was a bit culture shocked to say the least. The wildlife was just amazing and the terrain itself breathtaking. I was in paradise and living like a Swiss Family Robinson member. After we were settled in, Doug and I explored a little. Did a little filming and had Jan explain what the hunt would be like. The next morning my jungle hunt started at 4:00 AM. Once we ate and got in the jeeps, we were off to find Pavo, which is what the locals called the turkey. I later found out that depending on where you were in Mexico, turkey had many names. We got close to a couple birds, but my lack of the Mayan language and my guides inability to speak English left a lot of room for error. The native guide had never had an archery hunter before. They had no idea what distance or clean target shots I needed. The only way I could think of to explain was to play Mayan charades. My guide first put me on a bird that was way to far away. So with hand gestures and reenactments, I got him to understand that I needed the bird in archery range. Second, I needed a little shooting window to get the arrow through. Three birds later my guide and I were on the same page and speaking "Susan" a universal language, much easier than Mayan or English. By day three, we knew we were getting close. All the kinks had been worked out. On the third night, after a long hike into no-mans land, a bird was located. Getting to him was a workout. I later found out that the mountain I thought I had conquered was really Mayan ruins I climbed. It only took one arrow and aiming an inch high to pierce his chest and knock him down. I couldn't believe that I had just become the only women in the world to bag one of these beautiful birds with a bow. He was also a very big bird. Once we got him back to camp the guys measured him and he was big enough to hold a record in size too. That was a bonus for sure. After enjoying the extreme happiest this hunt and bird gave me, I had to do the saddest thing and get ready to leave all my new family and friends. The very next morning, with long good-byes and through tear filled eyes, I climbed back in the Jeep and headed back to civilization. Once back in Campeche, I boarded the next plane and headed for Chihuahua, Mexico to get Mr. Goulds.