The old man’s vest didn’t go to waste

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By BRANDON BUTLER

Every once in a while, a plan comes together. Such was the case of my opening morning of spring turkey season in Missouri.

Experience on the property I was hunting, along with an understanding of how the turkeys typically react to certain weather patterns, allowed me to draft a plan that put me exactly where I needed to be.

The turkeys gave the whole show, and I ended up with one of the nicest Easterns I’ve ever taken.

There are numerous reasons why this hunt was special. First of all, it took place on land owned by an older couple who are very dear to me. We meet a lot of people in this world, but few of them have real meaningful impact on the direction of your life.

Another reason I so enjoyed this particular opening morning hunt had to do with a turkey vest and a box of shells. You see, last fall I attended an auction flush with all the things I like – tools and books and fishing and hunting equipment. You can tell a lot about a person when all their possessions are laid out for sale. Based on what this gentleman left behind, I could tell I would have liked him a lot.

HIGH-QUALITY GEAR

By the time the auctioneer had worked his way to a rack of hunting clothes and a couple of tables of gear, hours had passed and the crowd had thinned out. The high-quality clothing and equipment was selling for far less than it was worth, so I was buying.

When the auctioneer came to a turkey vest, and it was selling for only a few dollars, I thought I didn’t really want another turkey vest, because I’ve logged so many miles in so many states wearing the vest I’ve had for two decades. But its zippers are mostly broken, and barbwire has left enough scars to make my old vest quite ragged.

I thought this was something I could actually use. So I bought it.

A Humbling Lesson

To my surprise, the vest was

Today 8:45 AM loaded with some bonuses. A few calls, chalk, gloves and even a full box of Remington 3½” turkey loads. All those finds were exciting. What saddened me – and what hit hard with a humbling lesson – was a half-empty bottle of water and a bag of half-eaten snacks. When this man hung up his turkey vest after the last time he wore it, he clearly did not think it was his last hunt. He planned to hunt again, wearing this vest, but it never happened.

This recognition spun me into deep reflection. It hit me how one day, I too would take my turkey vest off for the last time. Few of us have the knowledge of the last time we’ll do anything, participating in our passions included. It made me wonder if anyone close to me would care enough to want to hold onto my turkey vest when I’m gone – hopefully a grandchild.

But maybe not. Nobody did in this man’s life, so I chose to take on the role.

On opening day, I wore this man’s turkey vest and loaded my shotgun with his shells. As I settled into my spot against the base of a tree next to a blowndown log along a creek bank,

I said to the wind, “OK old man, let’s have a good hunt.”

As the eastern sky started to turn orange, the whippoorwills began to sing. Other birds soon joined in, and then came the first gobble. For 20 minutes gobblers sounded off in every direction.

The First Turkey

Then I saw the first turkey pitch down on a hillside about 500 yards away. The entire flock soon followed. The boss gobbler went into strut as soon as his feet hit the dirt.

At this point, I had no idea where these birds were going to head. It was windy, so I thought they might head into the forest, but in the past, on windy days, I’ve watched them huddle in a protected corner of a picked cornfield. So that’s where I was waiting.

When a single hen led the group down the hill, over a levee and into the corn stubble, I knew I’d made a good plan. For the next 30 minutes, I wondered if they would see my decoys and react to them. They did.

The hens were working past me about 100 yards out.

There were a couple of jakes in the flock, and the gobbler was staying busy keeping them away from his hens. He showed no interest in the hen calls I was making. He had plenty of them to deal with right in front of him.

I had three hard-body decoys set out, a feeding hen, an alert hen, and a jake. When I took out my gobble call and gave it a shake, the boss gobbler took notice. He stopped dead in his tracks. I shook it again, and the jakes started running to my decoys, with the gobbler now waddling right behind them.

‘THANKS, OLD MAN’

Just before the gobbler jumped on my jake, I fired one of the old man’s shells. The flock scattered and the gobbler lay dead a foot from my decoy. I unloaded my shotgun, pulled off my facemask and exhaled the breath I’d been holding. I whispered to the old man, “What a hunt. Hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.” Then I stuffed the bird in his vest and headed to the farmhouse for breakfast.

CLEAR YOUR SCHEDULE. GET TO PULASKI COUNTY, MO!

Gentle rivers full of twists and turns, spectacular Ozark scenery, and phenomenal fishing make for an adventurous getaway! But that only scratches the surface of all Pulaski County offers. Plan your trip through the heart of the Ozarks and fill up on tales as old as time at our historic military and Route 66 stops. Test your skills in archery, golf, indoor shooting, and more. Grab delicious eats and treats at our unique diners. en do it all again as you work your way through our day-a er-day adventures.

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