Re: Youth Contest Pics & Story Here.
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Youth Entry #7[/color][/size][/font]
Last week I took my daughter Jenna on the youth hunt. We got close with some jakes but just couldn't seal the deal. Sometimes things look you in the face, dangle the carrot, but aren't meant to be.
Fast forward to Sunday afternoon, March 30. A buddy of mine has a nice spot where he's had a lot of paired up toms, as well as some big loners on camera. He told me to tell her she was going to his blind for the day. He wanted her to kill one of the big boys if we could get lucky enough.
We got settled in about 1:15 or so, and by about 2:00 we had a lone gobbler coming from the other end of the field headed our way. We were both getting pretty nervous, as I thought, "This is it, she's going to get a nice bird!" The gobbler got about halfway to us, maybe at about 65-70 yards, and then just meandered off in the woods. She was a little bummed out (and so was Dad) thinking that might be her chance for the day.
A couple more hours go by, and we hear some good hen talk in the hollow to our right. Seemed like they were headed our way, so I yelped back a few times. They answered back a time or two, then things just got quiet. I expected them to come by us at any time, but they never showed up. About half an hour later, the hens are at it again, with a nice series of cuts thrown in. I told her to stay ready and focused because you never know when one might pop out in front of you.
At this point, my buddy pulled out his jake gobble shaker. After a couple of gobbles from the young punk jake, I hit a few seductive yelps on an aluminum call. No response from the hens, and I'm thinking, "Man, so close again, but it just might not be her afternoon."
A few short minutes later, I hear the wonderful "bawwwwmp...bawwwwmp" of a gobbler drumming right behind the blind. I told my buddy and daughter, "There's a gobbler out there, and he's got to be really close." My buddy stood up in the blind, and peeked out the back window just a bit. He turned to me, eyes as big as dinner plates..."Biiiiiiiig sucker right behind us, coming our way!" He sat down as quickly as he could, and helped my daughter get into position (even though it's a good size blind, we're pretty big boys, so we were situated pretty tight, with me in the front corner and them towards the back).
As I waited for the gobbler to come into view, my heart started racing. Was this going to be the day? Could we get it done? What if she missed, would she ever go again? The tom skirted the blind, looking for the punk kid trying to take his lady friend. He walked around front, looking for a fight, and gave her a perfect 15 yard shot with her 20 gauge 870. I didn't want to spook the bird, so I just sat back in my chair. I whispered, "Head down, look down the rib, focus on the neck, don't rush the shot..." I zoomed in on her trigger finger, and everything slowed down to a crawl.
I heard my buddy tell her, "Wait...wait...NOW!"
The trigger finger crept backward, and I saw the gun buck in her hands. I froze for a second...and the next words I heard were "GOT 'IM!"
Jenna fist pumped and it was high fives all around. The bruiser flopped around, fighting the now inevitable ending.
I jumped out of the blind, sprinted to the bird, and knew she had done it. Her first bird! I think I was shaking as bad if not worse than she was.
By West Tennessee standards, he was not a true giant; by plateau standards he was a mature old son of a gun and had the weight and spurs to show it - 22 pounds, 10 1/2 inch beard, 1 1/4 spurs.
God is better to me than I deserve, and this is one of those days a father can't really put in to words, much less forget.
I wouldn't trade her for ten sons.