Memories of my first gobbler

Turkey hunters will soon be heading into our forests and woodlots. For many younger hunters, the season opened last Saturday with Pennsylvania's one-day youth spring turkey hunt. I was fortunate enough to tag along and participate in one young hunter's first spring turkey hunt.

No one likes to be out in the May turkey woods more than my father. He loves the challenge of the hunt and everything that makes spring turkey hunting the great sport that it is. Yet, his least favorite part is pulling the trigger -- a contradiction to which many of us hunters can relate.

Don't get me wrong. He has never passed up an opportunity to take an adult gobbler. However, he experiences more enjoyment calling in a gobbler for someone else. In a way he has evolved into a mentor, introducing others, especially youngsters, to the joys of pursuing gobblers.

Dad is a high school teacher. Over the years I imagine that he has taken more than a dozen young hunters under his wings and introduced them to spring turkey hunting. He did it with me in the mid-1990s.

Last weekend I tagged along as he took Aaron Burnside, a first-year hunter from Emporium, out in the woods. From before we stepped foot in the woods, until the trigger was pulled at 6:45, there was nonstop turkey action with a dozen deer and even a coyote thrown into the mix.

Aaron Burnside benefited from the help of an experienced turkey hunter Saturday and bagged this tom not long after daylight.

It was a fantastic hunt, and I believe another turkey hunter was added to the ranks.

The tom took his time coming in, and hung up just outside of shotgun range, strutting and drumming out in the open for 10 minutes.

He was then called away by real hens, only to return five minutes later with the whole entourage. That proved to be his fatal mistake.

I captured the whole event on video, but I'm sure even without the video Aaron will have the memory forever etched in his mind.

Participating in that hunt brought back memories of my first spring gobbler hunt in 1993. In the years leading up to my 12th birthday, I had been accompanying my father on scouting trips and even on a few hunting outings. Now the time had come, and I was ready.

Dad had gone out the night before and roosted two adult gobblers on top of the mountain behind our house. Miraculously for that time of the year, they weren't with any hens. Early in the morning we climbed the mountain and made our way out across the top toward the hemlocks where the birds were roosting. It was a cold, crisp April morning, and the dry leaves were extremely noisy.

Just when we were getting near where we wanted to set up, a train passed through the valley below, helping to cover the sound of our footsteps as we closed the distance and picked our spot.

The two long beards gobbled like crazy on the roost. They flew down before 6:00 about 100 yards away and gobbled as they strutted their way into shotgun range. At 35 yards, I dropped the lead bird, a 19- pound gobbler with a nine-inch beard. I was elated, but I'll bet my father was even happier.

This past weekend as I sat there after Aaron had taken his turkey, seeing his joy really did take me back in time. It brought back all of the good memories of the memorable hunts that I have had with my father.

Good luck to all who head afield this turkey season. Be safe and introduce a new hunter to the sport.