I am desperately dreaming of a way that I can talk myself into buying another turkey tag for this spring season. Earlier in the week I bagged a Jake and have relived the moment over and over again in my mind. It was intense, thrilling, emotional and a type of euphoria that only comes with turkey hunting as you bag your bird. The Jake I harvested was not my first shot of the season though and I feel remorse about telling you that I shot and rolled a gobbler the second day without harvesting the bird.

Getting ready for the Ohio turkey season takes patience, asking the local farmers for permission, tracking them down to fill out the forms, and timing your route to the farms when the families are not spring plowing and planting. One of the most important things to do is to make sure the turkeys are still occupying the land during the season. There can be turkeys on a certain property weeks before the season opens and then they just disappear opening day.

I am constantly asking all my friends for new property to hunt. It seems like every year the land is being sold for housing developments. Three properties that we hunted on last year are not available now. Two were estates (family members passed away) and the other sold for housing in the country. We are fortunate to have a friend who lives on 40 acres with access to the local turkey population and another friend who invited us to meet the local farmer who allows turkey hunting on his property. This farm is not ordinary, with mountains, rock cliffs and scrub that have grown from old logging that is so thick you can't see through it. The only mature trees are the ones located at the top of the mountain and in the farthest valley.

Opening morning arrives and myself, husband Randy and his best friend and hunting companion Randy make the 35 minute drive to the 40-acre property. We felt more comfortable knowing the layout of the land for this mornings hunt. I opened the door of the truck at 5:00 am, promptly put on my gear, and waited, listening for any sound that might represent a gobbler. Nothing. We had our strategy in place so I hiked over to the area that I would set up for now as the men headed to their spots. As the morning wore on with not a gobble, I had the pleasure of watching two doe walk a few feet from me and then practiced my calling on two hens that happened to walk between me and our friend Randy. No gobblers, no gobbles; if there was one it had to of been miles away and it probably was my imagination playing tricks on me. We met at the trucks at noon and we all were very disappointed on how the day unfolded. I headed to work for the rest of the day and the men headed home.

We decided the next morning to hunt the new farm, heading up the hill at 5:00 am looking for some deer trails to lead us to the top. After a strenuous hike, stopping to listen and catch our breath, we finally made it. As I looked around, Randy hit his hen call and immediately we heard a gobble right in front of us. We found a spot to sit down and got ready. The gobbler headed to my right, I spotted him and turned when he was behind a tree. He kept going right and was probably going to come in behind us. I finally got a clear view of his head and shot. I watched him flop, and roll over twice. I ran over to where he should have been and there was no turkey. I was so disappointed. We looked for an hour, we never saw him fly or run when I shot; this turkey was not meant to be. We hunted the rest of the morning and never saw or heard another turkey. Again I headed back to work and had to tell everyone that I couldn’t find the gobbler I shot at.

Since we had heard our first turkey gobbling on the mountain, we decided to head back to the farm on Friday. We headed to the top just like the time before. We arrived to the top before sunrise and listened. Randy and I called a few times but it was so quiet. We never heard a gobble. We moved around awhile hoping to get something to gobble but again, no luck. We decided to sit still and call from two different locations. I sat beside a tree and started calling. I didn’t call up a turkey, but a man dressed in full camo and carrying a machete. I was totally frightened but decided that I should make myself known. I stood up and motioned to him that I was there. He headed my way, informed me that every weekend he walks the ridges cutting down grapevines and scrub trees. I watched him head along the ridge and then went over to my husband. We left the property, deciding it would be best to hunt it during the week when this man would be at work. It was still very early so we went back to the original property we had started on in the beginning of the week.

When we arrived we decided not to hunt together. I headed down to the stream following it for a few hundred yards then walking up a hill that overlooks a small valley. My husband always encouraged me to softly purr and cluck while walking to where I was going to sit. I sat down by some logs thinking that I would just relax for the next few hours because again, I had not heard any gobbles. As I settled in, I noticed movement coming down the hill across from me, it was six gobblers. I had a wonderful opportunity to just watch them as they traveled down the hill towards me. All were just slowly scratching the earth eating and walking together. The closer they got, the more excited I became. I was having a hard time just sitting still. My heart was pounding and I was talking to myself, hoping to keep calm. Deep breathes, focus on the turkey and wait.

I picked out a large gobbler and was waiting for him to get closer. He was right there in my sights when a smaller one decided to come right to me. They were so close now.  I made up my mind to shoot the smaller turkey, which still had a 5-inch beard. I was completely satisfied with the choice. I made a good shot, the turkey flopped down the hill with me racing after it; I was not going to lose this turkey too! I put my boot on his head and he continued to flop for a minute. As he expired, I enjoyed a moment of complete joy. As I examined the bird, I noticed that it was a Jake. The spurs were only about 1/2 inch long, and its feathers were shorter. I did not realize it was a Jake when I shot because the birds came in together, they never strutted, gobbled or spread their wings; they were just absent mindlessly cruising the hills looking for food. I just happened to be sitting in the right place at the right time. I headed back to the truck and when Randy was done hunting we took it to the check-in station. The turkey weighed 16 pounds and I was one really happy woman hunter waiting to tell her story to anyone willing to listen.

To keep everyone up-to-date on our Ohio turkey hunting season: I am the only one so far to even get close to a gobbler. Only a handful of hunters have heard any gobbles. My husband and youngest son, Corey, have been out and have not heard a sound. Nathan, my oldest son, who is attending Wright State University close to Dayton, Ohio, is coming home for a hunt this weekend. The weather is in the high 60’s and gorgeous. You would think that everyone would have filled their tags by now but that is why we love the sport. We keep dreaming of the big Tom strutting around the field, hoping to fill our turkey tag for the season. This weekend is Mother’s Day, so why don't I just go ahead and buy myself another tag? What a wonderful Mother’s Day, spending the day with my family and enjoying an early morning turkey hunt in Ohio. I would be thrilled just to hear a gobbler flying out of the tree, strutting his stuff over to the decoy while the boys or my husband harvest their first spring turkey of the year.