More Than A Hunt

By Pete Lathrop

“C’mon Andrew you’ve got to get out of bed!”

It’s not 10 minutes before the bus arrives. It’s not even 12:30 in the afternoon on a Saturday. It is 5:30 in the morning of my 13-year-old son’s first successful turkey hunt. You would think that he would be mummy-walking in a sleepy stupor, as most teenage boys would at that time of the day, but one reminder was all he needed. As soon as his feet hit the floor, he was putting on his camo and getting his 20-gauge ready. His motivation was the news I gave to him the day before.

I had been turkey hunting for a few days, and after the morning sit, I would get up and slowly scout for a while. I’d seen toms regularly but at a distance. From what I could see, the toms were following a group of hens through a valley. So, when the turkeys were gone, I checked out the spot and found that it provided perfect cover for a surprise ambush. So, I headed home and told Andrew. “The chances are good,” I told him. “We’ll set up before dawn on the north side of the valley and wait.” His eyes brightened, and he gave me a high-five. He had been with me on turkey and deer hunts before and learned how to sit still and not make quick movements. The excitement of seeing the game motivated him. When he turned 12, he was able to hunt for the first time. That year, nothing came close enough for a shot. Even though he was disappointed, he was determined to hunt the next season again.

Turkey hunting is unique in that you can talk out loud to your hunting partner while sitting in the blind. Turkeys aren’t adept at hearing predators, but they can see them a country mile away. If you’re sitting still, you can hold a conversation without fear of scaring birds away. It was fun to talk about where the turkey might come from or how we would call them in. But we would also talk about life. I cherished individual time with all three of my children. Conversations with my kids revolved around funny moments with friends and family, camping trips, Cedar Point roller coasters, and many other junior high interests. But sometimes, I’d hear, “I love you, Dad.” That’s when all other distractions fade away. Shooting a turkey instantly became insignificant. My heart, mind, and soul focused on one thing: thanking God for my family and moments like this.

After a few more moments of talking, we heard a gobble. Our thoughts snapped back into keen concentration, and our eyes scanned the valley. The gobbles were distant enough for me to suggest that Andrew scoot down to the level area of the valley and hide behind a stump. The plan was for me to call the turkey from higher up the side of the valley, drawing his attention away from Andrew’s position.

We were in place with plenty of time before the turkeys arrived. I kept calling, and the tom roared back with thunderous gobbles. I knew he was getting closer. I kept thinking of Andrew, hoping he be ready when the tom appeared in the meadow. I kept calling and all of a sudden…. BOOM! Andrew jumped up and waved me down to the meadow.

There he was—a beautiful, big Eastern gobbler. The look on Andrew’s face was priceless. We ran over to the bird and gave each other a big hug. I realized that the time sitting together in that blind was more than a hunt. It was a connection, a strengthening of love and relationship. It was the sharing of a moment that will never be forgotten. It’s so much more than a hunt.

Shooting a turkey instantly became insignificant. My heart, mind, and soul focused on one thing: thanking God for my family and moments like this.