Opening Morning By: Trevor Simmons

As my alarm clock went off around 5 a.m. I rolled out of bed with the opening day butterflies beginning to take flight. I walked across the hall and dragged my little sister out of bed, and headed downstairs to meet dad. After sitting on the couch for about five minutes to wake up, more I headed on down to the basement to put on my brand new turkey outfit I got for my birthday.

After I got my camo on I helped my little sister find all of her gear. As Dad finished getting ready, I started handing out guns to everyone. Somebody had forgotten to get my sister some shells so I had to dig threw the safe to find three shells for her. Luckily, I found some and the morning got back underway. We sat around the basement for a few minutes just waiting for daylight to break. As some silky blue sky began to appear, we grabbed our guns and piled into the truck.

We got to my grandmas’ house around 6:05 a.m. and jumped out to listen for that first “gobble”. At around 6:18 a.m. a gobbler sounded off and then another and another. The morning was off to a good start I would say. After getting, the blind set up we started calling to see if anything would answer. Nothing, absolutely nothing not even a yelp from a lone hen. Therefore, we sat in the blind for about an hour and then a group decision to move was made. As we topped a hill where we had heard a “gobble” we sat down beside some old tractor tires and start calling again, but still nothing. I had been filming some so while we just sat there I played around with my camera some.

After not hearing anything at my grandmas’ we piled back in the truck and headed home to drop off my sister. When we finally got back on the road, again around 8:45 a.m. we spotted a loan gobbler in a local farmer’s field. Seeing that gobbler really lifted my sprits, about Dads and mine next set up. We finally arrived at the next area of land we have permission to hunt and the wind started to pick up. We slipped under a old, rusty, fallen down, barbed wire fence and set up beside some pine trees.

Dad broke out the old box call and gave it a few good hits and finally a yelp came from the other end of the ridge. A few minutes later Dad whispered, “Look at that gobbler out in the bottom”. Oh man, was that gobbler beautiful in the wet grass and early morning sunrise. He was just a little too far out range for my twelve gage at about 150 yards; but my camera could film him just fine if I hadn’t been so shaky. After watching, him chase his hens and jakes around the bottom for about 15 minutes it was time to move on him.

We eased down the ridge top above him as adrenaline started racing through my veins. Dad peered over the edge of the ridge and said, “Trevor he’s right here 35 yards away; if you get clear shot take him”. I never got a shot but Dad could have taken at three different times, but opted to let me try to get a shot. With no gunfire from our Mossberg 835’s we just sat and watched him strut as we planned our next attack. With no more shot opportunities, we just had to watch him fly across the creek to the bordering property to be hunted another day.

As I keep chasing these birds of the mist, I keep in mind that God has blessed me with this talent and one more day to use it. In addition, I cannot wait for this next week because I am on spring break so it will be daylight to noon hunting everyday. So maybe with a little grace and hard work my next story will be on how I beat the odds and harvest one of God’s most beautiful creations.