Talking about my first hunt with a new hunting partner and the harvest of my first turkey
Story by Lili Sams, Lone Star Outdoor News
My dad has been my hunting partner for as long as I can remember. We started off duck hunting when I was 5 years old, and my passion for the outdoors grew from there. Hunting together has always been our thing, and I’ve never been on a hunting trip without him.
I had been turkey hunting a few times, but never with any success. I was ready to change that, and asked my dad if I could bring my boyfriend, Carson, and go to the ranch on my own to hunt my first turkey. This would be the first hunting trip without my dad and a test for my new hunting partner.
The stars were brilliantly bright as we arrived at the Stonewall County ranch late Friday night. Carson and I sat in total darkness, sipping whiskey and sharing hunting stories.
As soon as my first alarm went off the next morning, I couldn’t sleep anymore. It was time for turkey hunting.
We headed to the “South Area” and sat under a cedar tree. The 40 mph north wind whipped our decoys around. We quickly realized we did not have enough layers on. We headed back to the house, added extra layers, made breakfast and planned out our next move. Fueled from the breakfast burritos, it was time to get back to hunting.
The next stop was the “Irrigated Field,” which hosts a watering hole. Carson made a homemade blind out mesquite trees next to the windmill. We sat with the wind at our back and the sun’s warmth beating down on us as we waited for some action.
My dad had seen some action at another water hole called the “Goldfish” and had suggested sitting there around 1 p.m. After a few hours of no action and no gobbles, we decided to give it a try. As we were packing up to move, I noticed a lone turkey coming down the road. I signaled to Carson and we quickly crouched behind some brush. I had my Mossberg 20 gauge with a Trulock turkey choke ready and in position as Carson rested his hand on my shoulder. The turkey rounded the brush and Carson said it was “the smallest jake I’ve ever seen.” We were waiting for something better.
Maybe something else would come up the road? We hopped beneath a cedar and waited. Not long after, I spotted a few toms and hens crossing the field. We rushed back to the same brush where we had hidden before and assessed the situation. The dominant tom was puffed up and had a nice beard on him.
I was in awe of seeing the symmetrical fan of the tom that I didn’t notice the beard dragging on the ground. A few deep breaths later and the birds made a turn for the water hole. I lined up my shot at the big tom.
A lot of factors went into why I missed that first shot. Nerves, shot placement, the caliber of the gun and the distance of the shot. Regardless, it wasn’t meant to be. I was disappointed but Carson told me not to be discouraged and that there would be a better bird to come. I trusted him.
The wind was still whipping through the ranch as we made our way to the “Goldfish.” The shade from the cedar and the cold wind made it the perfect spot for a mid-afternoon nap. No turkey were seen nor heard, so we walked around scouting and looking for sheds.
Carson found his first shed ever as we drove back to the “Irrigated Field” for one last sit of the day. It came from an interesting looking 8 pointer with a really long G2.
“I’ve been on shed hunts before and never found one and I almost ran this one over with the Can-Am,” he joked.
It was a quiet late afternoon and I could tell Carson was determined to find me another turkey. We spotted a hen on the top of a berm and followed her into the woods along a game trail. Knowing it might be impossible to find any turkey hiding in the tall grass, we took the time to hunt for sheds and appreciate the landscape. We decided to call it a day as the sun began to set.
My dad texted me asking for details from the day. “What did you see? Were they gobbling? Did you try the Goldfish?” he asked. It was driving him crazy that he wasn’t there hunting with us.
The temperature had dropped and the wind had died down Sunday morning. We decided to make a quick breakfast to fuel our upcoming day of hunting and talked through our plan for the day. As we sipped a cup of coffee, we watched about dozen turkey come to the corn in the field in front of the house.
We hunted hard Saturday, but we both had a feeling the second day was going to be our day. The toms weren’t gobbling in the morning, but the fresh tracks along the roads where a sure sign that they were moving.
We headed back to the “Irrigated Field” and posted up next to the windmill again.
After sitting for a few hours, Carson added more mesquite to the blind and I closed my eyes to take a nap in the early afternoon sun. Moments later, I opened my eyes when I heard purrs to my left. Walking past our hen decoy were two toms heading straight for our flocked Avain-X HDR jake decoy.
I grabbed on to Carson’s leg, who was sitting behind me, with a grip that would make anyone scream. That was our agreed upon signal that there were turkey close by. I slowly raised my gun up to my shoulder while the toms were 15 feet away, attacking the jake decoy.
Carson said they were both nice toms and I could take my pick. “Which one is bigger?” I whispered. As soon as he uttered the words “The one on the right,” the turkey was down.
The rush of adrenaline came over me and I started to shake. I had just harvested my first turkey. Carson pulled me back for a hug, the pride and excitement he had for me will be a look I’ll never forget.
My heart was beating so fast as we approached the tom. We examined the coloring in his feathers, retraced his tracks to see where he came from and found the wad stuck in his chest.
We texted a selfie to my dad, only giving him a peak at the tom’s fan, knowing it would drive him crazy. He called immediately for every detail. I knew he was proud of me; for harvesting the bird and for doing it on my own (with the help of Carson, of course).
Filled with pride, I threw the bird over my shoulder and his 11-inch beard swayed back and forth as I carried my harvest back to the vehicle.
We sat there for a few moments relishing that bonding moment you experience when you harvest an animal with another person. Although no one will be able to replace my dad, Carson proved himself to be an outstanding hunting partner. I’m looking forward to future hunts with both of them.
