I heard my first wild turkey gobble when I was 15 years old. My dad and I were fishing from a canoe on the Satilla River in southeast Georgia on a clear spring morning. We were easing into the mouth of a small slough when the sound of my paddle hitting the side of the canoe made a gobbler in back of the slough gobble. I can still close my eyes and see and even hear it all over again. That's when the fire was lit. However, it wasn't until I later moved to Alabama in 1992 that I began to hunt the majestic bird. I had never hunted them before and had no idea how to even get started. I watched the hunting videos and hung out at the local mom & pop hunting stores listening to different people share advice. I grew up reading Outdoor Life magazine. There were a few old articles written by Archibald Rutledge about turkey and deer hunting in the South Carolina low country. He had a deep respect and appreciation for the noble bird. This made the fire grow stronger. I started hunting the Talladega Nat'l forest in Tuscaloosa in the spring of '93. I heard several gobble but I did EVERYTHING wrong to kill those birds. As I matured into my role as a TURKEY HUNTER I felt like the sport had more of a gentleman feel to it, just like Mr. Rutledge. Unlike deer hunting where I did everything legally possible to put a deer on the skinning rack. Deer hunting felt kinda felt primeval. Turkey hunting began to feel more refined, respectful and ritualistic(in a good way). Don't get me wrong, I love hunting deer. But, when I get dressed to go hunt turkeys I feel like I'm going to meet someone at a formal event. I feel that when I turkey hunt my rules for taking a bird are far more strict than the game laws. I have literally passed birds that I've eased up on or flushed that were easy kills. Those kills would leave an empty feeling, so I don't take those shots. In my mind there is a civil process that has to play out. I love beginning the day with the owling of the gobblers. Then weaving through the woods to a spot that I feel my targeted gobbler would want to travel to find his "mate". I like that process and the chess match that unfolds. I like how some days the plan in my head plays out in front of my eyes. I also like it when I never see my bird because a silent bird decided to play instead and comes strutting in from an unsuspected direction. I like to hear the gobble of my bird grow louder and louder as he closes in on me. I also kind of like it if he's hidden behind a small rise or large fallen tree and then gobbles as he suddenly pops out 20 yards away strutting, wings dragging and head laid back into his feathers. I will never, ever get tired of experiencing that moment. I will always remember how the majestic, well respected bird of the forest looked moments before the match came to a close. God truly blessed us with gifts on this earth and I believe in a small selfish kind of way the gobbler is one of mine.