By Chuck Shepherd

Having just retired from the Naval Submarine Force, I recently moved back home to Missouri. I have never had the chance to take my youngest son turkey hunting in my native state and after years of tall tales of my turkey hunting youth he was, needless to say, ready to go! We spend the week prior to the youth hunt taking the Hunter Safety Course, going over hunting strategies and shopping at Bass Pro's Outdoor World for turkey hunting paraphernalia. I informed him of how imperative it was to have patience and be as quiet and still as possible. He assured me that when the moment came he would be ready, but in the back if my mind I wondered just how still and patient a 10-year-old boy could be.

The night before the big hunt we arrived at my Mom and Dad's farm in Osceola with visions of turkey gobblers dancing in our heads. Sitting on my Mom's deck and sipping a tall glass of Sassafras tea I was confident our hunt would be fruitful by listening to the multitude of gobbles down on the creek as the sun set. Four in the morning came very early but we were eager to hit the woods and a father's dream was finally being fulfilled as we headed out on my son's first hunt.

We quietly walked down to our turkey stand and settled in. After a few hours of hearing lots of turkeys but no action we decided to leave the safety of our blind and stalk our wily feathered prey on foot. As we approached the creek I looked across the stream into my Aunt's field and saw five or six little black balls of feathers in the far end of the field. We froze in our tracks and I pointed out to my son where they were and he acknowledged that he saw them. My battle plan was clear! We would ford the creek ease up over the bank near the old rusty corn picker and get our bearings. In an effort to circumvent any possible fidgeting, I told my boy to set at the base of an old sycamore and get comfortable. In what seemed like several minutes of fussing but was probably only seconds my son gave me the thumbs up that he was ready. Now it was my turn!

I reached into my vest and pulled out my trusty call and began applying my craft. The game was afoot! Sounding as much like a sexy hen as I could, I realized I had several amorous suitors heading our way. That age-old game of cat and mouse that every turkey hunter has felt was in full swing. With every call they were getting closer. Two, no three gobblers close and a couple over the next ridge! We were in the middle of the turkey mother load! Being just below the bank of the creek behind my son I could not see our quarry but they sounded like they were right on top of us. I was expecting to hear my trusty old twelve gauge that had been my tried and true friend for so many years ring out and verify that the second generation would return triumphant with a bird over his shoulders. Any moment now…..wait for it!

As my excitement pinnacled to fever pitch my son stood straight up and at the top of his lungs exclaimed,. "Dad, my foot is asleep I've just got to stand up!"