My New Addiction (Feature Article)

By Mandy Webb

"I think I'll go turkey hunting today," I said as I gathered the necessary things needed while clutching the phone with my shoulder.

"O.K...I probably won't be home for awhile. How 'bout tomorrow?" My husband sounded doubtful.

"I want to go by myself," I replied.

"Mandy, you have only been turkey hunting once or twice and you don't know much about turkey hunting. Why don't you wait until I can go with you?"

"I'll be fine. I just want to go and sit in the blind. If I don't feel comfortable making a shot, I won't."

My husband, Geremy, has always been an avid hunter. From squirrels to elk, he has traveled the U.S. in hopes of harvesting many trophies. I had accompanied him to the turkey blind the day before and although he didn't harvest one that day, he had many times in years past. I had always been curious about turkey hunting but never had the confidence to pursue it.

But, that April afternoon, I had faith...

It was late season. It was a beautiful day in April. The air had a very slight chill, but as I confidently headed to the blind armed with my Remington 870 12-gauge, I remember admiring the blanket of sunlight that was touching every tiny inch of the path that I knew so well. Having only been an observer so far while turkey hunting, I had paid close attention to everything I had seen my husband do many times before. I had packed everything I needed, including a couple of slate calls I had watched Geremy use and a box call that I had secretly been practicing with at home. I had watched him closely the previous day and felt confident that I could do this. I walked to the blind and as I entered the field, I scared off two hens. Not a good sign, I thought, but at least I had seen something. As I settled in and gazed around the field which had been my "hunting haven" for the past nine years, I became totally aware of everything around me. The birds singing in the cedars, the squirrels rustling through the leaves and the deer slowly passing through while nibbling at the clover all consumed me. I realized at that moment that no matter how hectic things can sometimes be in this world, there will always be a place where things happen at a much slower pace and utter tranquility is in control.

I waited about thirty minutes and then tried purring with the slate call. Nothing. Wondering if I had done it correctly soon flashed through my head. I remembered Geremy telling me that patience is the key when hunting turkeys. Patience is a virtue they say and patience paid off. After being in the blind only one hour a gorgeous Eastern tom came into view. As I got ready, he walked within twenty yards of the blind. I raised my weapon and took careful aim. This was all very new to me since I had never fired a weapon with open sights. I shot and immediately went to check him out.

The following scenes could easily have been on an episode of America's Funniest Home Videos. As I approached my bird, his wings began to flap and he stopped just a few feet from where he originally laid. I nearly jumped right out of my skin. I looked around the field for something long to poke him with. If that tom had not expired, I did NOT want to risk getting flogged! A limb lay in the edge of the woods. Perfect!!! Actually, it was a small cedar tree, but I wasn't taking any chances. As I pulled the tree across the field to where my turkey had finally come to rest, visions of him jumping up and beating me to death with his wings sent waves of panic from the top of my head to the bottom of my feet. Trying to prevent myself from having a panic attack, I began taking deep breaths. I eased towards the bird slowly, reached out as far as I could with the tree and poked him several times. He lay there motionless. I could finally relax…and then reality sank in. HOW IN THE WORLD WAS I GOING TO GET THIS TURKEY HOME??!?!?

After what seemed like hours of trying to figure out how I was going to get this bird home, I hoisted him over my shoulder (again, what I had seen my husband do) and walked to my Blazer. I had to stop several times to reposition him because his spurs were poking me in the hand.

As I drove around the corner of our barn, I spotted Geremy standing in our yard. I jumped out and started jumping up and down, "I got him! I got him!" I have never been that excited over harvesting an animal. My first Eastern Tom weighed in at nearly 25 lbs and displayed a 10 1/2 inch beard and 1 1/8 inch spurs. So, my obsession with turkey hunting began. It is addicting.

Looking back, I don't know if it was me trying to prove myself to others that even though I am
a woman, I am capable of having a successful hunt or if it was just "my time" to harvest an elusive Eastern, but I've always said, "Never underestimate the determination and will power of a woman. We can do anything we set our minds to."