Turkey Hunting With Grandaddy

Hunting With Grandaddy

By Sammy West

It was a clear, crisp, spring morning. Me, my grandfather and my dad knew the birds were going to be on fire. We had come to the decision that me and Grandaddy would go to the far side of the food plot close to the river where the birds have roosted in years past, and my dad would set up on a ridge in the hardwoods on the other side of the food plot from us. 

We got set up and as soon as our rears hit the ground, the birds started hammering! We knew right away that there was more than one tom that was in the area. The birds kept gobbling and kept gobbling, so we knew it was going to be a talkative morning.

As the woods got brighter with sunlight, I decided to make a call with my Tom Teasers Cracked Corn mouth call, and when I did, both toms cut me off immediately.

About 10 minutes went by and we heard the sound of wings beating through the woods. Eight hens and three jakes came walking right by us at 15 yards, and we just knew the toms would be coming right behind them. I told Grandaddy to get his gun up and get ready, but the toms never showed. 

We gave it about 15 minutes or so and my phone begins to ring. My dad was calling to tell me that the toms had put the slip on me and Grandaddy and walked down the far side of the food plot from us and met up with the hens and jakes and went around the path toward our other food plot on the next property over. 

We met up with my dad and came up with a game plan. We all got set up on the road up from the food plot where all the birds went. I made another call with my Tom Teasers Cracked Corn diaphragm call and the toms and the jakes all cut me off at the same time, so I didn’t make another peep. 

About two to three minutes went by and I saw heads coming up the road. My dad whispers, “I see ropes, Sammy. I see ropes.”

My heart began to pound out of my chest and sure enough all eight hens, three jakes and two toms were walking up the road straight to us. They made it to about 20 yards and I laid the bead right on one of the tom’s noggin and let him have it. He hit the ground like a sack of rocks, and that’s all she wrote. 

The bird had an 11 1/2-inch beard and 1 1/4-inch spurs and weighed in at 20 pounds. 

This hunt taught me a valuable lesson as a hunter. The lesson I was taught is that as a sportsman the hunt isn’t about the size of the animal you kill or how many of them you kill, but it’s about the memories that were made in the process and who was there with you to make the memories. That’s what it’s all about. 

So I encourage others to take time to teach the young ones the sport and to learn the ways of the woods. If it wasn’t for my dad and my Grandaddy, I wouldn’t be the hunter I am today.