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ADVENTURE SPORTS OUTDOORS “The Voice of the American Sportsman”
MORE THAN A HUNT By Colt Vinovich
I awoke to a small clap of thunder and the smell of freshly brewed coffee filling the air. I could hear dad rustling around in the kitchen. Was it already time to get up? I yawned, gave my eyes a rub and walked in to find him already at the table, coffee in hand, studying the forecast on his laptop. Being a morning person was a trait that he did not pass down to me. The urge to retreat back to my old bedroom at my parent’s house was all too strong, but I had stayed the night here and was now awake for a reason. I had a 4th season turkey tag to fill and one day to do it. It was the spring of 2013, and I had just turned 21 years old. I was working, living on my own and doing things that a freshly turned 21-year-old does. At that time in my life, there weren’t too many things that could coax me into spending a Saturday night at my parent’s house, but the promise of my mom’s homemade spaghetti and a turkey hunt that next morning was definitely one of them.
My busy schedule only allowed me to hunt that Sunday morning and, as fate would have it, the rain was coming down heavy and didn’t offer any hope of letting up soon. “Looks pretty wet out there,” I said, still feeling the strong gravitational pull of a warm bed and a few more hours of sleep. “Your call,” dad said, “but ya’ ain’t gonna’ kill ‘em if you’re layin’ in bed.” There it was, my dad’s old expression that had become all too familiar to me over the years, but he was right. I wanted to bag a big ol’ Tom, and I wasn’t gonna’ do it unless I poured myself some Folgers. I double checked my pack and laced up my boots. Rain or shine, I was determined to be in the woods before those birds hit the ground. Hell, a little mud never hurt nobody anyway. Half an hour later, we were in the truck headed to the property and having our traditional argument that all father and sons tend to have. Something about not getting Poptart crumbs all over the
cab of his new Tundra, if I remember correctly. Some things never change. Our petty squabble soon ended with the help of some old George Strait tune coming through the radio waves. Suddenly, I was 10 years old again and dad and I were headed to the woods in pursuit of my first turkey. This is what it’s all about, I thought to myself. That same feeling, I still get after all these years. The preparation, the anticipation, and the time spent with my old man. I was pulled out of my daydream as we turned off onto the dirt road leading to the property. Time to put on the game face. One last sip of coffee and a quick once-over of my pack as we parked along the edge of the timber. Thankfully, the rain had diminished to a slight drizzle. It was a chilly spring morning that would have been perfect for the long trek ahead of us had it not been for the earlier downpour. Things were about to get sloppy. If dad was worried about the Poptart crumbs, he sure as hell wasn’t gonna’ like all the mud we were bound to bring back with us. Oh, well. I grinned, can’t win ‘em all. Decoys packed, facemasks on, and the Benellis loaded, we took to the field. Guided by the silhouette of the timber edge, we trudged through the soupy earth and headed toward our first spot. I had to admit, it was still as difficult to keep pace with dad as it had been a decade earlier.
January 2018
For 50 years old, he could still move. We were halted from our steady pace by a loud, resonant gobble that could only be produced by one thing, a big ol’ Tom. Dad and I locked eyes, and I wonder if he could see the big s--- eatin’ grin on my face through the mask. The birds were waking up, and we were gonna’ be ready for ‘em. The sun began its ascent over the horizon as we set the decoys in place and settled into the brush along the tree line. We were soaked with sweat from the long hike, but adrenaline was flowin’ and the birds were talkin’. It was time to talk back. Dad had the slate, box and mouth calls all at his disposal, and he knew how to use them. I’d heard it many times before, but it never ceased to amaze me.
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