I woke up
late, exhausted by another week of slogging through the mire as a slave of
commerce. My heart and my mind were already in the woods, but my body required
extra rest. I’ve never been one to sleep in when it comes to hunting or fishing,
but this time was different. My wife had been out riding her horse the day
before and told me of a big turkey that flushed out of the field in front of
her and flew up into the trees, spooking her and her equine partner. Rousting
out of bed at 9:00 – late for a hunting expedition -since all hunters know that
peak encounter times occur most often at dawn and dusk – I lazily dressed
myself in camo and headed to the woods.
I clucked
every 100 yards to see if I could elicit an answer. Nothing. I hiked back into the
swamp and set up my decoys to sit and listen. I crawled under a wild tangle of
shrubbery and leaned uncomfortably against the base. I let out a loud series of
clucks and far off in the distance, I heard him. He gobbled viciously but must
have been about a half mile away. I picked up my decoys and packed them into my
turkey vest. I hiked through a wet swamp, my feet getting wetter each time a
hummock gave way to the water underneath.
Turkey
hunting is a fascinating means of dialoguing with an animal. In nature it is the
hen that calls out to the tom “where are you?” and the tom will gobble back
giving away his location, to which she is obligated to pursue him. In hunting turkey,
the goal is to get a tom to do exactly the opposite of what nature has taught
him. The hunter has to convince the tom that he is a hen that is ready to breed
and is not going to seek him out but begs and pleads with him to come find her.
This makes the whole pursuit quite difficult.
This
particular bird was on posted property, across a small stream, up a hill and
all the way to the end of a long field. I had to call very convincingly to
attract him past these obstacles – which by the way, is also against their
nature.
I found
some dry ground on the edge of the swamp and stopped. I looked at my watch. 11:30.
I called again, and knew I had but a half hour to complete my mission. I could
feel my heart beating heavily in my chest, blood pulsing through the veins in
my arms. For the next half hour, I gave it all I had. I clucked, purred, putted
and screamed my romantic desire to the whole forest. Each time, at the end of a
monologue, he would vociferously reply that he wanted very badly to meet me. This
dance went on for 20 minutes and each time he answered he was a little closer.
I looked
at my watch again. 11:55. This game was nearly over, as the closing time each
day in May is high noon. Just like the old Westerns, this drama played out with
the deadline approaching quickly. Then suddenly he stopped communicating. This
meant one thing. He was seeking visual verification of this hot young hen.
Then,
behind a fallen pine, I saw the full fan. This was a big bird – monarch of the
woods. He strutted back and forth behind the tree when a hen popped out from
behind the root ball. She took three steps forward and turned to the fully
fanned tom. He took one step toward her. The hen took three more steps forward,
putting inquisitively. Again, she turned to him and he took one more step
forward. He was now behind the root ball of the fallen pine. I lowered my head
to the stock of my shotgun and took a deep breath. I cocked my wrist to one
side to look at my watch. Being legal is in my nature. This could play out
either way. 11:58. I looked back up at the hen as she took three more steps and
turned to the tom to give him the okay that the coast was clear.
His bright
red and blue head thrust forward from behind the tree and I placed the bead of
my shotgun on him. For one moment, we were hopelessly entwined in the dance of
life. He, the monarch, and I the peasant in his kingdom. We joined breaths as I
pulled the trigger. The echo of the shotgun bounced off the distant hills in
the valley and the king lay still on the forest floor. I looked at my watch.
11:59. I walked over to him and kneeled to pray. “Great Spirit, thank you for
presenting me with this beautiful being. I promise to honor his life and share
his grace and majesty with those deserving of his glory.
Thank you, Great
Spirit. Thank you, God.”
The walk
home was a long one and at one point a tear of remorse and gratitude rolled
down my cheek. I let myself feel it track down my cheek to the side of my mouth,
where I touched it with my tongue and felt its salty sweetness. This is life
and I am a part of all that is.
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