I got back a little after midnight Sunday morning from Texas chasing turkeys. Last week’s journey started a little over a year ago. I was chatting with a guy that served with dad in Vietnam about his Texas ranch and I asked about Rio Grande turkeys. He has plenty of them and invited me over to hunt. He barely knew dad in Vietnam, but that was because of the circumstances of combat and being in different platoons in a company of 150ish men. I honestly don’t recall dad ever talking about Chuck, but that doesn’t mean anything. I was Opie’s son, and I was family. This is exactly why I love my Charlie Company (C/1/503/173d ABN SEP) family. The drive there took us through Ft. Sumner, NM, so of course we took the side trip to see Billy the Kid's grave.
My lovely wife let me start making plans for
turkey hunting in Texas this spring and a friend went with me. This trip was even more special because I planned it to be down turkey hunting during the anniversaries that haunt me the most. I’d be turkey hunting on the anniversary of the day that I last spoke to my dad and it was a conversation that didn’t end well. I’d be driving home on the 18th anniversary of the day dad died. Turkey hunting was one of the two things that always brought me and dad together during our frequent rough patches growing up. It’s a big part of why I love turkey hunting so much. I also found out that another one of dad’s Charlie Company buddies and his wife were driving up to see us Friday since they were only two hours away. I’ve been close to John and Evelyn since I first met them in 1995 and I’d be lost without them in my life.
Chuck told me stories I’d never heard, and I got to sit and listen to John and Chuck talk about my dad in a way I don’t think I’d ever heard anyone talk before. John kept me close and reminded me who I am and where I came from. My family grew bigger, and I knew dad was smiling down holding his
rangefinder binoculars, as was my mom. She’d have loved Chuck and Cheryl and I know she loved John and Evelyn.
My buddy and I covered ground and talked turkey all day Thursday, but we came up empty. We did see three live armadillos, though. That was a first for me. Friday morning was different. We finally got into gobblers and worked them for over an hour before finally getting them to commit. At 1045, I finally connected with my first Texas Rio Grande gobbler (after 3 trips to TX) and my first turkey in way too long! It was a surreal feeling and I’m not sure how I held in the tears. I absolutely felt my dad’s presence. I felt completely surrounded by family in that moment. I loved walking back heavy. I loved calling to that other bird for my buddy on the walk back. I wish it would have worked out, but we had to hustle back to meet everyone for lunch. My tom weighed 17 lbs, had 1-inch spurs, and had a 10.5-inch beard. He was a perfect, mature boss tom. One of my favorite parts was that I primarily used a bocote wood pot call that my son, Jacob, made for me, too! My buddy got his tom Friday afternoon, as I was hanging out with my family.
Ge
tting my Rio Grande gobbler was having my cake and getting to eat it, too. Being with Chuck, Cheryl, John, and Evelyn was getting to have ice cream with my cake. I found a long-missing piece of my heart and I was able to heal a broken piece of my heart for the first time in 18 years. This journey started as a turkey hunt in Texas, but it ended being so much more than a turkey hunt. It also started what is going to be an epic April turkey season for me this year. I wish I knew why these pics came in sideways. Uggh.