Denise Conni
My favorite time of year is the spring. There is something about the pink blossoms on the apple trees, and the red tulips that makes my garden smell like heaven. And, it's turkey season.
I find it hard to sleep the night before I go hunting, worrying about the alarm clock, or thinking about how I'm going to call. Sometimes, I lay awake, and wonder how I'm going to cook the bird.
Yes, my name is Denise and I'm addicted to turkey hunting.
I was introduced three years ago to the wily Eastern turkey. My first hunt was a funny one. Everything was going effortlessly. My friend Jeff was calling and the turkey was gobbling. I could sense him coming in, and knew he was going to walk right in front me. I thought about everything he taught me ... don't move, rest your gun on your knee, crouch down, identify the bird as gobbler or hen, and don't move! I heard him gobble again, felt Jeff tense, and heard his voice in my head -- "SHOOT! SHOOT!"
It was awesome. There he was right in front of me, his head peeking out from behind a fallen log, no more than 30 yards from me. He lifted his head straight up, and looked my way for the hot hen. He turned his head back and forth, wondered where his potential girlfriend might be, and then ran when he didn't see her.
After he had cleared the area (just as fast as he came in) Jeff asked me why I didn't shoot. I looked at him, and in all my glory, said, "I only saw his head!" All Jeff could do was roll his eyes, and lower his head.
Lesson learned: when you hear him gobbling, see him strut and see his white and red head, you shoot.
We hunted that bird for two more years, and finally when I had a choice to shoot a tree he was hiding behind, or Jeff, I chose not to shoot, and Jeff took him at 20 yards.
So, when he took me hunting again in Oklahoma, that's just what I did. I saw a white head, saw him strut, and then I shot. It was a perfect shot and my first turkey made a great dinner.
After that day, April and May became my favorite time of year. And it's no different this year.
I've found a hunting partner, who is just as addicted as I. Her name is Kristen, and I've hunted with her for the past two years. We've been hog, deer, and now turkey hunting.
Recently, I have moved to the outskirts of Northern Virginia to escape the traffic and the city life. My backyard is beautiful, and three weeks ago, I heard the sound of angels singing ... in reality, it was a gobbler sounding off to a plane overheard.
Then two more sounded off, and at 6:40 AM I called Kristen. She wasn't too happy with me since she was sleeping. Then I may have told her she wasn't a true turkey hunter since she was sleeping, and I was scouting.
That's when she hung up on me.
At a reasonable hour, according to her, we discussed game plan A. Opening day in Virginia was the 12th. That meant no sleep for me, since I was going to guide Kristen in my new backyard. We heard a gobbler or two, and I tried to call them in, but they wanted to part of two potential girlfriends. No gobbler wanted to be my boyfriend.
We tucked our tails, and over lunch, we made game plan B for the following weekend. On Saturday morning (once again, no sleep for me; I planned my turkey meal for the following day), she met me at 5:30 AM (not too early for her, now that she's hunting) and we set out. We knew the birds were roosting on the creek, so our newly-formed game plan was to sit above them on a ridge. Lesson #2 learned. Turkeys in my backyard are roosting between the ridge and the creek. We learned that lesson as soon as we entered the woods, because above us flying high was a roosted turkey we just un-roosted.
After some words to the turkey hunting gods, we went for plan C -- just sit down where you are. After first light, I made a call, and before I was even finished, a potential boyfriend answered back. We sat, called and waited. Within minutes, above us flew three more turkeys, not toward us as we expected, but away from us to an open field.
We spoke to the turkey gods some more, and went for plan D -- go after them! Kristen spotted the gobbler doing the hokey-pokey around a hen, and then they disappeared over a hill. So, we GI-Joe'd it on the wet grass and crawled up the hill.
There he was, right next to the creek. I spotted him, and then she spotted him. We started to stalk him, but we began to wonder why he didn't move.
Well, after some discussions, and more stalking, we realized it wasn't a turkey, but a cow whose fate was decided by some coyotes.
More words to the turkey gods, and they answered: "Behold! Denise and Kristen need new glasses!"
We heard some more gobbles, but as of today, those turkeys live another day. I'm just saying ... this is what makes turkey hunting so much fun!
