Sometimes
it’s better not to think about things too much, but that’s hard to do when
you’re spending a lot of time in a turkey blind. As I hope for a Rio Grande I mostly think
about all the great people who are part of this hunt.
I try not to think about things
that depress me, like the fact that earlier this morning two hens shamelessly,
relentlessly and callously lured away the three long beards I’d called,
or the fact that I’ve been sitting in a blind for seven hours with my underwear
on my head.
Black underwear works fine in the blind
My friend
Tes Randle Jolly, from Alabama,
knows turkeys. She says I need to be wearing black in the blind. And the only
piece of clothing I have with me that sort of works is, right, a pair of
underwear.And actually, it works quite well for archery hunting, what
with the strategic way the leg openings line up with my ears for ease in
finding my anchor point.
As the Texas heat sizzles and addles the part of my
brain responsible for rational thought, I begin to jot down possible designs
and a marketing plan for a revolutionary new cap for bow hunters called the
Bottoms Up. Then I slug down two bottles of Gatorade and get over it.
It’s a long, hot afternoon, barely
saved by the breeze. The Bad Boy Buggy I’m using is parked about 200 yards away
– it’s an electric, 4WD ATV, so quiet that I know I’ve slipped in to this spot
undetected.
I call turkeys about every twenty
minutes, and am visited first by a lone hen and then by a talkative party of
nine hens. I do want a turkey, very badly, and I will the five jakes I passed
on yesterday to return.
I know that all of us here in camp
realize that this is one of the best hunts ever. Yes, there are plenty of turkeys,
and Tes, Hunter’s Specialties national pro staffer Rick White and Real Hunters
Journal editor Greg Martin all dust Rios with their shotguns.But it’s not just the
abundance of turkeys.
Tes Jolly
Rick White
Greg Martin
Another thing that qualifies it for
“best hunt” is that everybody wants to help everybody else. Any of us feel good knowing we have good friends,
people who believe in us. That’s why everybody loves the ending of that movie,
“It’s a Wonderful Life”, when the brother says, “Here’s to George Bailey, the
richest man in town!”
Clint Bronson with Lisa
And somehow today, although the
elastic of my underwear is lodged above my eyebrows, after two hens wrecked my
plans, when I’m dog tired and nothing’s happened for hours, I feel pretty rich
myself. An all-day sit in a turkey blind is a great time to think about all the
things you’d like to do right, or at least, better. And you can always learn a
lot from hunting, and hunters.
Outdoor writer Brenda Potts, Illinois, who put this
hunt together, has been sleeping on a recliner in the living room. Her turkey
hunting spot is farther away than ours, so she decided to sleep out there so
she wouldn’t wake up Tes and I as she got ready to go, a half hour earlier.
Ronel Bronson & Brenda Potts
Clint Bronson has been cooking
astounding meals for us. I’ve had the best steak I ever had in my life, and I
was full when I started eating it. He has an encyclopedic knowledge of food and
takes so many extra steps as he prepares a meal that it boggles my mind. His
wife Ronel, a Bad Boy Buggies distributor, cares and worries about all of us
and works to keep things running smoothly. She has just started shooting a bow.
Jim Willard, who would be called
the Bad Boy Buggies marketing director if they had titles – they don’t like
titles – could have a second career in stand up comedy. Plus on the way to the
camp from the airport he has done something I’ve never seen a man do before,
something so remarkable, so amazing, that I tried to dig out my camera, yes, he
has stopped and asked for directions.
Between Tes, Rick White and Greg
Martin, we’re hunting with some of the best turkey callers in the country. And
that doesn’t happen overnight. Rick told me that he pretty much kept a
diaphragm call in his mouth for three years, practicing everywhere he went,
until he thought he could make it sound the way he wanted.
And I know Tes started early,
thanks to her dad Ned, who used to tuck her hair up under her hat and call her
“Harvey” so he
could take her to a hunting camp.
And Tom Mansell, Bad Boy Buggies
manufacturers representative agreed to stuff about ten of us into his
two-bedroom camp because he “always wanted a place that I could share with
people, where they could have fun and relax.” Tom just enjoys the outdoors.
The Gang, cramped but smiling
As different as we are, all of us
have one thing in common – we are doing something we love. And another thing in
common – I don’t think any of us wanted the Bad Boy Buggy hunt to end.
I didn’t get a turkey, but it’s one
of the best hunts I’ve ever enjoyed. I take some solace in finding out what a
Grim Reaper broadhead will do to a rattlesnake – it will nearly cut it in half.
It’s
not big enough for a belt – not unless I diet back to my high school weight –
but it will make a nice headband.
A hat band in the making
There’s a time difference between
my home state, Pennsylvania, and Texas, plus daylight
savings time has happened. I’m sitting in the blind as my last day winds down,
trying to figure out what time it actually is when it hits me – I already know.
Time to apply the lessons I’ve learned from the hunt, and the hunters.
Be considerate. Take extra steps.
Care about others. Don’t be afraid to ask for directions.
Be willing to
practice as long as it takes and don’t stop learning.
Enjoy the outdoors and
share it with others. Do whatever it takes to do what you love.
Don’t stop trying to find that
dream life, whatever it is. And keep hunting, because it will lead you to the
finest people in the world.
