I don't know how to post pics, but I got my first Gobbler yesterday morning. Day 3 of the Tennessee Spring Turkey Season. Here's my story yall

This was my first hunt with my father since I was a young girl. I had always dreamed of being able to harvest an animal while hunting with my dad. I woke up at around 545am and got my dad out of bed. He's staying at my house for now lol. We both had a nice cup of coffee, got dressed and fired up the four wheeler and headed up our trail to the woods. Around a mile into the trail we reached the highest point and shut her down. As soon as we dismounted, the hills rang with Gobblers sounding off. Dad and I exchanged excited looks and briskly ran downhill and cut into the woods around 75 yds from where I knew they roosted. Dad would use his 30yr old box call, a tried and true tool, to emit a series of yelps and cackles. The Gobblers would immediately retort, there were at least 4 individual Gobblers across the ridge. We had no success calling them in and they eventually meandered along further up the trail they were on, and further away from us. After about 20 minutes we left our position and head across the ridge. We could hear them in the distance and I knew exactly where they were. We would walk a few yards and then dad would call. Eventually we ended up close enough for my comfort as the birds were just across a ridge. Dad said to me, "Let's see just how interested they are." He used that old box, which is older than myself, to utter a very excited series of calls. The Gobblers sounded off and seemed to be, in fact, VERY interested. I sat down in front of a large tree close to the bottom of the bank I was standing on. Dad layed along a set of fallen trees with only his head visible. It got quiet for a moment and doubt was in my mind. That all disappeared when I saw him. He had topped the ridge and was quickly making his way towards us, he then cut to the left and headed up, above us. While he was behind a laurel bush I repositioned myself. He gobbled and dad make a few quiet clucks and I raised my gun and turned off the saftey. The bird stepped out of the bush and paused, perfectly still. I knew this was my chance. I aimed just below the birds beak and squeezed the trigger. The sound of my shotgun rang through the woods and the bird dropped and began flopping around. His head was like a sock with a tennis ball inside, limp and useless. Dad told me to go get him so I turned on my safety and ran across the ridge. I caught and and soon the movement stopped. I was so shocked, this had all happened so quickly, I forgot to even check out his beard and spurs! After a very emotional celebration between father and daughter, I toted the bid Gobbler down a long trail and my dad went and got the atv. After returning home I went to check him in, 9.7" beard and 7/8" spurs, 19#. Not bad for my first and it was a hunt that I will never forget as long as I live.


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