A story from long ago:

I honestly can’t remember getting up that morning – it was 42 years ago and my memory ain’t that good. But I’m sure I was excited when my dad called me to get up and get ready to go turkey hunting with him. I was in the 8th grade and it was a school day, but school didn’t start until 7:45. We would have a couple of hours to hunt before he had to go to work and I had to go to school. He went nearly every morning, but he didn’t often let me go with him during the week. I could get up and go by myself around the house, but I usually didn’t hear anything when I did that. Today, I was going to a place loaded with turkeys.

My dad put me out in the dark at an old road at the bottom of a hill, and he went a little further down the main road. He told me to be back by 7 a.m., and under no circumstances was I to be late. I was on my own, and he was putting a lot of trust in me. I had my 20 gauge pump, a homemade box call, and a brown canvas hunting coat. I probably had on blue jeans, but really can’t remember. I remember being excited at getting to go to such a good place. It was a tract of land that was covered with big hardwoods and a few big pines, with an old field on top of the hill. I had killed 2 jakes in my turkey hunting career, but I desperately wanted a longbeard, and I thought this might be the day to get him.

I climbed the hill to the top and listened in the old field. Right at dawn, a turkey gobbled to the west and I went to him and set up. I yelped at him on my box and got a response, but then a hen started yelping between us. I had excellent hearing back then, and after listening to the calling for a while, I decided that it was my uncle yelping on a Lynch box. I knew that he was coming into the area from the other side some days, and I was convinced that was him, and not a hen.

I was trying to decide if I should leave and go somewhere else, when I heard the strangest gobble I’d ever heard back to the east. He started out strong, but about halfway through the gobble he switched to what sounded like a cough. I’ve heard thousands of turkeys since then, but never heard another gobble quite like this. I’d heard jakes before, but I knew this turkey was different. I quickly started thinking of him as the Turkey With The Messed Up Gobble – TWTMUG.

As soon as I heard him, I left the first bird and headed his direction. I distinctly remember fighting through the briers in the old field, but that was the quickest way to him and that’s the way I was going. The first setup on him didn’t work out. He gobbled several times at my calls, but went the other way. But he was gobbling at everything, so I didn’t know if he was really interested in me or not. I finally moved up several hundred yards and eased up to the hardwoods from the edge of the old field. As I was looking down into the bottom, he suddenly gobbled just out of sight. I had to just sit down on the ground, without a chance to hide or sit against a tree. I yelped at him and he answered, and in a moment I saw him! He had a nice long beard and was a beautiful turkey; it was just his gobble that was unique.

I was hoping he would come right to me, but instead he climbed the hill to my south and stood in the edge of the old field about 100 yds away. I yelped again, and he answered again, and then started to me, coming through the big hardwoods toward me. He went down into a dip, then started up the hill coming right at me. He sure wasn’t in a hurry, but he was definitely on his way.

It was at this moment that I remember looking at my watch – it was 6:50. I was a 10 minute walk from the meeting place. I rationalized that it could be a 5 minute run, so if the turkey would come on, I could still make it. He didn’t. He stopped about 50 yds below me and gobbled and strutted and drummed. I now had to make a decision. The responsible thing to do was to get up, run back to the meeting place, and hope that I could get him another day. Or I could stay and try for the turkey, and then face the consequences. The consequences would be steep – a certain whipping, a ban from hunting the rest of the season, a 0 on the English test I had first period, and everybody around would be mad at me. But the possible reward was getting to carry out TWTMUG. It was a difficult decision for an almost 14 year-old to make, especially under such intense pressure.

And so I made my decision – I would stay after the turkey and face the consequences later. There was just no way I could stand up and flush my prize gobbler and watch him fly off; not when I was so close to success. I forced my punishment out of my mind and focused on the turkey. There was no way to call again; he was staring directly at me and he would surely see me if I tried to use the box. I waited, and finally he started toward me again. I knew that I need him at 30 yds for the 20 gauge to kill him, and he only needed to take a few more steps. At 35 yds, he started to go behind a big oak, and I had my gun aimed at the other side of it. Just before his head went out of sight, he stopped and started staring a hole right through me. I wasn’t camouflaged, and he knew something wasn’t right. I knew he was suspicious, but I was afraid that if I tried to move the gun and shoot him there he would get behind the tree and be gone. And the range was iffy too. I made the responsible decision this time; I would wait.

Finally, the head disappeared and I got ready. As soon as he came out, I would shoot him and then hurry down the hill, grab my turkey, and sprint for the truck. 30 seconds went by and he didn’t appear. A minute – no turkey. 2 minutes, and a sick feeling came into my stomach. I finally slid around on the ground so that I could see behind the tree and my worst fears were confirmed – my turkey was gone. He had put the big tree between us and than ran about 75 yards and gone over the hill, without me even catching a glimpse of him. It was one of the biggest disappointments I’d ever experienced.

I got to the meeting place at 7:20. Daddy had left me, and there was a note on the ground with a rock on it. There were no pleasantries in the note – it simply said, “Stay here and wait on your mother.” I did. She came up in the car in about 20 minutes. She was mad. She carried me to school and the principal was mad. My English teacher was really mad. That night I got the expected whipping, and the ban for the rest of the season was pronounced. I didn’t complain about any of the punishment – I knew it was coming as soon as I decided to stay after the turkey.

I never heard the TWTMUG again. But I think of him often. And I think of what I learned from the experience – things about responsibility, dependability, and the consequences for failure to live up to the expectations placed upon us. I think about those things and I wonder if my experiences and wisdom gained over the past 42 years would lead me to a different decision today.

Are you kidding? My only regret is that the turkey got away!

Awesome story preacher. I felt like I was right there with you.

I don't remember ever getting a wooping for anything hunting related, but my parents almost sent me to therapy when I was in about the 8th grade. All I did was hunt, never wanted to hang out with friends, go to birthday parties, or talk on the phone like "normal" kids back then. They were worried about me for those reasons, but I was having a blast. I hunted before school, after, had a 4wheeler that I would ride for miles down the roades to my hunting places everyday. I would carry my beagles in a gdog box all over the place to rabbit hunt. Life was good and I think I turned out ok after all.

>>>I don't remember ever getting a wooping for anything hunting related<<<

I can remember several, the one in the story wasn't the first one.

Sounds like you were about like me in the 8th grade. Only major difference is I had to ride a bicycle instead of a 4-wheeler. And I don't remember my folks ever being concerned about me, they thought it was normal back then.

That story really did make me look at a lot of things differently from most people. In my years as an educator, it never bothered me at all when parents took their kids out of school to take them hunting or fishing. I can remember many of the female staff being very upset with me because I allowed it and defended it. My reasoning was that I still remember the details of many hunting and fishing trips from long ago, but remember nothing of what I learned in a class on any particular day.

Some thought that to be an irresponsible attitude for the principal. They wouldn't have appreciated the story of the TWTMUG.

That sounded like fun, I wish I had been exposed to hunting when I was young.

Excellent story! I would type a good one of my first gobbler but I hate to type that much - I'll just have to tell it to you some time Did that bicycle have the HUGE front tires and little back ones like the ones from the 1920's

No kidding. I thought I was having fun deer hunting as a kid. I missed out on 6 or 7 years of turkey hunting

>>>Did that bicycle have the HUGE front tires and little back ones like the ones from the 1920's<<<

I'm old, but not that old, gobbler. It was a very ordinary 1960s model bicycle. When other kids talked about their 3-speeds, I boasted that mine had automatic transmission.

I didn't go on all that many bicycle hunts. It didn't have any lights, so that severely limited its use for hunting. I went on a lot more fishing trips with it. I remember getting a lot of strange looks pedaling down HWY 14 with a big stringer of bass dangling from the handlebars.

All that was a long time ago in a place that is very different now. I'm feeling really old today.

You ARE really old today Just the off-season blues which, for turkey hunters, lasts 10.5 months. I grew up in the 60's as well but didn't have anyone to take me so I didn't start hunting till the early 70's, and by myself. Never turkey hunted till 1987 and never called in a gobbler till 1986 (not actually hunting). Did kill a jake and a 11" and 1.25" gobbler my first season hunting though. Thought it was easy (and gobblers WERE easier back then).