Gabe's First Turkey Hunt by Bruce Bennett

The alarm woke us at 5:15 on the morning of April 2nd. We sluggishly rolled from our beds and prepared for the second day of the 2022 Spring Youth Turkey Season. The temperature outside hovered in the mid-30s. Although we were sleep-deprived, excited thoughts of what the day might bring began to stir. Would today be the day Gabe dropped his first turkey? Did the three-hour discussion during our drive to Pratt cover all the most pertinent cliff notes? The outside temperature were low and we wondered if we would see or hear any birds? Did we pack enough layers? We wouldn't have to wonder for long.

We met our host for the day, Shay Stephens, at a gas station and followed him to the property we’d be hunting for the day.

The morning was quiet. The wind was still, and the air was crisp. We made our way to the first sitting spot of the day.

About 300 yards away, across a field, the silhouette of the tree line was backlit by the first colors of the approaching dawn. Shay looked at Gabe and asked, “Are you ready?” Gabe nodded, nervously. Shay readied the mouth reed and let out the first yelps of the day. From across the field, an eruption of gobbles exploded from the tree line. I have never heard such a sound before in my life. Gabe sat there wide eyed. Shay let out another yelp. Again, the sound of gobbles roared across the field.

As the sun rose in the sky, we began to make out the figures of the turkeys in the trees. We watched as they pitched down from their roost. They flew to the open field, one right after another. The final head count was 26 birds.

Strutting and gobbling, the toms and jakes were in full competition for the hens’ attention. While we watched as the dominant toms moved the hens slowly across the field, Shay would periodically yelp in an attempt to pull a beard or two our way, but the flock slowly progressed west across the open field. At one point we spotted a coyote running full tilt away from the flock. We hoped that would have pushed the birds our way but they kept their course.

Noting their direction of travel, we decided to back out and attempt to circle around the flock using the trees behind us for cover. Once behind the trees, we entered a field and started heading west. Almost as soon as we entered the field, we heard a gobble directly in front of us from about eighty yards away. We cautiously knelt down and found cover behind a wood pile. As I belly-crawled out to place a hen decoy on the mowed path, Shay got Gabe into position to cover two potential avenues of approach. I crawled back and knelt behind Gabe. Shay called again and the bird gobbled back. This time he was slightly right of his original position. Then, as if to be expected, the tom went silent. We waited fifteen to twenty minutes. Shay called again. Crickets. Fearing that we’d miss the opportunity of the flock, we decided to slowly make our way back down the mowed path.

Immediately after we stepped from behind a cedar tree on the path, I saw the tom turn tail and run.  He was a beautiful longbeard. I relay what had just occurred to Gabe and Shay. A wave of disappointment washes over all of us. Patience, it gets the best of every turkey hunter every time.

We shake it off and make our way back through the tree line to check the position of the flock. They are midway across the field to the north but closer than where we left them. Shay lets a few yelps rip, and a group of jakes answer back. We have their attention. We back out again and push west to the property fence line. From this position, Shay starts to work his magic. His calls are a siren luring a group of four jakes to their deaths. To the east, another hen starts yelping. It is now a battle over the attention the four jakes are giving the hen. Shay and the hen go back and forth. He steps on her yelps with his. She starts to get agitated. This works the jakes into a frenzy.

Each yelp draws them closer to the fence line, but where will they cross? The jakes make their way east around a pond on the adjacent property towards our fence line. We back out and make our way east to the next opening in the trees.

We enter the opening, and almost immediately about forty yards away, four heads pop up in the grass on the other side of the fence line. It's the same group of jakes and they are staring holes through us. We freeze, fearing any movement will send the quartet running for their feather-covered lives. Leg muscles start to ache and burn as we are caught in this showdown. Who would move on first? Just when I thought my hamstring was about to snap, the hen to our immediate east yelps drawing their attention to her. The jakes lower their heads and move east down the fence line.

We quietly cut across the opening making our way east to attempt to cut the jakes off again. As we get to the next opening, we kneel down along the edge of a mowed path that leads to the fence line. Shay lets out a couple yelps. No response. We sit quietly contemplating our next move. Gabe gets my attention because he hears something to our immediate right. I turn my head to listen. The sound of leaves rustling in the tree line. I signal to Shay who is five feet away. We continue to listen quietly. Out of nowhere, two hens start walking towards us. One hen heads into the tree line while another walks right up to our position. Gabe could have reached out and grabbed her. She is yelping her head off. Her calls attract the attention of the jakes. They have crossed the fence and are heading our way. The hen continues yelping as she struts away and disappears behind a cedar tree.

Gabe instinctively gets into a comfortable shooting position. Seconds later, a redheaded jake pops up in the tall grass directly in front of us. Next thing I hear is a safety click off and BOOM!!!. That jake got rolled. Perfect head shot.

Gabe stands up, pumps a new round into the chamber and places the shotgun of safe.

I want to take a moment to thank everyone involved in this process and event.

Outdoor Mentors- Thank you to this organization and the effort that is put into keeping our sport and its heritage alive for future generations to enjoy.

Bobby Cole- Brother, If it weren’t for you and your help, this memory would have not occurred. Cheers

Shay Stephens- Sir, your patience with Gabe and myself was saintly. Your professionalism is beyond reproach. Thank you for your time and effort.

Albert Hitz- Due to your generosity, this hunt was possible. Thank you so much for allowing us to hunt your land.

Last but not least, I want to thank Gabe. I'm so proud of you and the young man you’ve become over the years. I look forward to more hunts with you in the future. I love you.

By Bruce Bennett