Ok here's the story on my bird:

The last day of the season is also my son's birthday. This year he turned 9. For his birthday he wanted to go camping (like we do most years.) We have a camper that I still keep at my house in Alabama. It's a two and a half hour drive, but since I had to go anyway, I figured I may as well hunt.

Usually the last week of the season is tough and silent, so I figured I would go out anyway and hope that the long winter might have pushed back the season a little bit. I figured I would try to get something off the roost and then get the camper if I didn't hear anything.

I left the house at 2:30 a.m. , convinced that this disease called turkey hunting was a terrible ailment.

I arrived in Hartford at 5:00 and let my dog run around a little bit and then headed to the creek bottom that normally held a good flock of birds. The loggers had thinned out the pine trees and left the smell of fresh turpentine in the air. I inhaled deeply and smiled. It was already a great morning.

I sat down at the tree about 5:20. I waited and soaked in the last hunt of the season. I said a little prayer where I thanked God for the gift of hunting and for generous landowners. I prayed for success, safety, and to bless my family while I was away.

At 5:30 I heard the first gobble. I tree yelped. He gobbled again. I was afraid that I was too close. He was only about 75 yards away; just across the creek. Then I heard a gobble on the other side of the road on the same side of the creek. I tree yelped again.

I quit counting gobbles at 50. Then they went crazy. At 5:45 I did a fly down cackle and shut up. They really went wild. By 5:55, they had gobbled at least 150 times. Wow! What a hunt.

Then, a bird flew down from the big trees toward me. It was like a runway. The bird just about hit me as he hit the ground and ran up the road behind me. I could feel the breeze off his wings. Then another. I almost shot him like a duck, but I decided to wait. Then the third one started down. He put the brakes on and dropped down about 40 yards away. The grass had grown up, so I couldn't see his beard or spurs. I saw his red, white, and blue head and pulled the trigger. He went down.

I smiled and thanked God for the great hunt.

Then I went to pick up my bird. While I was picking him up, another bird flew down and about hit me. He swooped up into a tree about 20 feet above me. I dropped my bird and looked at him through the scope. He began putting with the two other birds on that had flown past me that were still on the ground only 40 yards away. I laughed out loud and remembered the joy of turkey hunting. It was a great hunt. Thanks guys.

I ate fried turkey nuggets on Saturday night. Tonight I plucked his tail fan and fixed them into my primos decoy for next year. Enjoy guys.