Women Folk from the Ozark Hills

I grew up thinking that everyone took their fish, turkeys, deer, quail, rabbits and any other critter harvested from Nature’s bounty to grandma’s house and it magically showed up in the freezer or on your dinner plate. Grandma Stephens’ basement was the drop off for my uncles, cousins, dad, and me. We killed it and she did the rest…I just thought it was normal. Also, since Grandma O’Day was up at 5:30 am every morning anyway, I thought it was normal that when you got up to go hunting, you got breakfast made to order before heading out hunting for the day. At the O’Day Farm, this was just common practice as I was growing up. As a matter of fact, if you didn’t eat when Grandma O’Day asked what you wanted, she was downright agitated. I quickly learned that you would sooner be late to the woods than tell her ‘no thanks.’ Didn’t dream this was out of the ordinary. However, after getting married, my wife informed me that this was definitely not normal. As a matter of fact she didn’t even believe this really happened. I was dumfounded. I took her to Grandma Stephens’ house and told Grandma to set her straight.

Looking back now I am amazed at the juggling act my grandmothers performed during hunting season, which, by the way, was also the Holiday Season. Back in the Seventies and early Eighties it was quail, rabbits, and fall turkeys before Thanksgiving, deer during the week of Thanksgiving, and coons the rest of the year. Thanksgiving Day was a mad rush for the hunters – get up early, hunt until noon, rush to the house for Thanksgiving dinner, and then back to the woods to close out the day hunting. Whew, what a busy day. Christmas entailed early morning gift opening followed by rabbit and quail hunting before dinner, and then rabbit and quail hunting after dinner. Of course the grandmas, moms, and aunts spent the day at the house cooking, cleaning, and visiting. And man, were they proud of us when we brought in wild game for them to process on top of all their other chores! Not to mention the mud on the boots, the hunting coats and hats flung all around, and the guns in every corner. How did they keep from hanging us up in the basement?

Today, the seasons have changed a little. Now its archery deer, fall turkeys, out-of-state elk and pheasant, and firearms deer hunting before Thanksgiving, trapping from around the first of December through the end of March and muzzleloader deer hunting during the week of Christmas (this was not a popular MDC season change with some at my house). The mud, coats, and guns are still a challenge for me. And, since my wife has not yet subscribed to grandma’s old ways, the butcher boards on the counter and uncut wild meat in bowls in the refrigerator is another occasional issue. Oh, and rolled up frozen fur takes up too much freezer space – that’s another issue. And, if I don’t have time to skin, the occasional whole frozen raccoon or otter in the chest freezer can be still yet another source of contention. Do you think there is anywhere else in the world where the women have to deal with the issues like they do here in the Ozark Hills? Men, we are married to saints!!

As I mentioned earlier, I asked Grandma Juanita Stephens to set my wife LaDonna straight on how a good Stephens woman operated during hunting season. Grandma looked over the top of her glasses with a half ornery smile and said, “Girl, I married Jewel Stephens when I was sixteen and he was twenty-six. I thought I had to do everything he told me to do. And yes, I did clean a lot of critters. But don’t you dare do it! You make the boys clean whatever they kill.” I had just recently managed to convince LaDonna to help me cut up some of the meat after I had processed a carcass and now grandma had set me back at least three years! I’ll have to start the grooming and training process all over again! Oh well, at least Grandma confirmed it was true.


The women of the Ozark Hills are truly unique and a huge part of our outdoor experience. They are as much a part of our interaction in Nature’s Economy as any other fundamental ingredient in the experience. Today, their place in Nature’s Economy has taken a much more active role and women are doing a lot of the hunting themselves. Whatever the capacity of their interaction, to the women folk of the Ozark Hills, I solute each of you and thank you for making our way of life possible. To Grandma Stephens, Grandma O’Day, and my wife, LaDonna, a special thank you for allowing me and my children to experience the same outdoor heritage that our forefathers lived during Holiday, hunting, and trapping seasons past. Good luck, be safe, and get a big one.

A Good Death

Is there such thing as good death? According to ancient American Indian culture once all of an individual’s biological, ecological, and spiritual mandates from the Creator were satisfied, a good death was achieved in a passing in which the individual’s honor and integrity were preserved. The moment of death was considered as intimate a moment between the dying and Mother Earth as that of the mother-child relationship at birth.

My grandfather, a devoutly religious man, used to say, “death is a change in range and nothing strange.” I suppose contemplating those words in conjunction with my ever-evolving experiences in the outdoors lead to my seemingly indifferent emotional views regarding my own eventual demise. For the human species, emotionally speaking, if not sudden, the departing soul is certainly subject to many emotions and the survivors are certainly subject to much grief. For many the subject is so uncomfortable that it proves too difficult and painful to contemplate.

Ironically, in the perfect system of Nature’s Economy in the cycle of life, death is one of the two fundamental ingredients - birth and death. And, no matter what megalomaniacal reasoning we employ to convince ourselves otherwise, we are all subject to the rules of nature and we will all eventually pass from this physical world. For man, a good death is the all encompassing worthy end for which a human soul responsibly strives and humbly prays. In nature a good death occurs by default for all Nature’s creatures as they expire while playing their respective roles in the circle of life.

Today in our society there are those who would suggest that there is something inherently wrong with participating in the circle of life. The modern animal rights movement suggests that it is somehow wrong, inhumane, or cruel to harvest from Nature’s bounty for our own sustenance. While all moral and ethical beings would subscribe to the basic underlying principle of the animal rights movement’s premise of respectful treatment of all life, it is flawed reasoning to suggest that causing an animals death is inhumane and/or disrespectful.

First of all, Nature does not subscribe to the parameters of human emotional reasoning. A hunter and/or trapper who spends their allotted time during the harvest season in Nature understands above all others that the modern animal rights movement would surely consider Nature itself the most inhumane perpetrator in existence. There are no hospitals, hospice care, or pain and maintenance medications to provide comfort for a diseased or dying animal.

There is no policing authority to prevent unfair or premature death. There is no peaceful passing in the night. There is only death from the harsh elements, disease, accident, and/or being consumed. The old and weak are caught and consumed by the strong. A gazelle being disemboweled by lions while still conscious, a squirrel having it’s skin ripped apart by the razor sharp talons and beak of a red-tailed hawk, or a whitetail deer slowly and agonizingly succumbing to the long and drawn-out ravages of blue-tongue disease, these are just a few of the many brutal alternatives wildlife have as opposed to death at the hands of a hunter, trapper, or fisherman. Even though Nature does not ask for or understand human ethics and morals, if one is comforted by human precepts, then it is an undeniable truth that, for those of us who frequently witness first hand true life and death in Nature, death at the hands of man is exponentially more desirable than the end that awaits those creatures who perish by other natural means.

In Nature’s Economy, as outdoorsmen, we are all active participants, or unapologetic purveyors of death. Just as the coyote, bobcat, and mountain lion play their roles, so do we, as wild men, in a sense, do the same. As each of these creatures go about their daily routine of sustaining themselves, they dispatch and consume numerous and various creatures in the wild. Death in Nature, while savagely beautiful, is neither good nor bad, right nor wrong, rather, it is viewed by the whole of Nature with stoic indifference and as just another integral part of the continuum of life.

The creatures of Nature ask for no quarter from death, as there is none. They inherently understand that there are no promises of fairness in life, there is only natural indifference regarding their survival or death. It is as if they are inborn with the same nurtured reasoning that our own species’ super-genius Albert Einstein took many years to develop regarding his own death, ‘The end comes sometime; does it matter when?’ This does not suggest that an individual does not struggle to survive. Quite the contrary, all creatures in Nature are programmed to survive at all costs and have an inherent right to do so if they can. Ultimately, however, death will touch us all and, physically speaking, once in its embrace, there is no escape.

So, is there such thing as good death? Absolutely. In the animal kingdom, similar to human beings after achieving creator imposed mandates and on their pathway to a good death , wildlife harvested and consumed by humans have likewise completed their ecological mandate just as sufficiently as those consumed by any other predator, thus resulting in a good death in Nature. We, as humans, are not outside the scope of Nature. No matter how grandiose our ideals and beliefs, we simply push the envelope of Nature as opposed to existing outside of it.

It is our responsibility to participate in the circle of life and to teach others to understand and accept the indifferent yet perfect and beautiful design provided in Nature. When a soul is exposed to the true life and death cycle in Nature it is easier to confront their own mortality. Understanding Nature’s Economy makes for easier discussion, understanding, and acceptance of death in the animal kingdom as well as the human kingdom. Physically speaking, they are one in the same. Setting a personal goal of an eventual good death is not a taboo subject but rather an honorable pathway through life. Good luck, be safe, and get a big one.

Missouri Muzzleloader Season 2009 – New Time Slot

With the ruckus of the warm season birds and insects gone, to the untrained ear, the woods seem completely void of the usual hustle and bustle. In the air there is a hint of musty, decaying forest liter and the occasional whiff of smoke from a distant fire. A very slight breeze blows from the northwest as the overcast skies spit a skiff of snow that accumulates and drifts like a light dust on the top layer of dry oak leaves. The few errant snowflakes that find your exposed parts briefly sting your already numb cheeks and ears. No matter how hard you try, each step sounds like you are walking in a giant bowl of corn flakes. It is late December and Nature is preparing to ‘batten down the hatches’ for the long, cold winter. It is also Missouri muzzleloader deer season and the hunting is more challenging from the November modern firearms season, not only because of the more primitive firearms, but also because of the harsher weather potential. While deer hunting, if solitude mixed with a more challenging firearm hunt is your bag, then muzzleloader season is your answer.

For 2009, the Missouri muzzleloader deer season has moved to a new time slot on the calendar, December 19 thru December 29, statewide. If you can get away with it, a quick Christmas hunting jaunt is not out of the question…(I’ll never admit I suggested that). Legal are all muzzle loading rifles firing a single projectile, .40 caliber or larger, per discharge. Modern in-line rifles and telescopic sights are legal. Multi-barreled muzzleloaders as well as muzzleloader and cap-and-ball pistols, including revolvers, .40 caliber or larger are also legal. Any valid, unfilled Missouri firearms deer hunting permit in your name is a legal permit to use while muzzleloader hunting. All state regulations pertaining to wearing hunter orange apply during muzzleloader season just the same as during modern firearms season.

With today’s more modern in-lines, hunting tactics can be close to the same during muzzleloader season as they are for modern firearms season. Ranges for modern, scoped in-lines are 200 + yards for the skilled shooter so tree-stand hunting over large fields is not out of the question. If more primitive cap-lock or flintlock rifles with open sights are more your style then still-hunting from the ground may be your tactic of choice. Big bucks are still a possibility since the second rut (approximately 30 days after the November firearms season) is still underway during the early part of muzzleloader season. All the does that were not bred during the first rut are being actively pursued by those super-sly bruisers that made it past the archery and firearms hunters during the early season. As the season winds down the deer patterns will shift from breeding to preparing for the long winter so food sources and travel routes between bedding areas and food sources will be major traffic areas to hunt.

This time of the year is truly magical for the outdoorsman. It is a time to find peace in the outdoors. During this time of year at our farm, from the top of the McFarland Ridge, just as it begins to get dark, a person can gaze across the valley and see, through the snow-filled air, in the distance, the old house and barn with the nightlight just beginning to shine. It is a modern-day Norman Rockwell scene. It is a time of the year that reminds me of one of my favorite Robert Frost poems that my grandfather used to quote to me, “Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening”:

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sounds, the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

The poem gives one a sense of quiet solitude and beauty on a cold winter night in the outdoors. This is what an outdoorsman experiences during late season hunting and trapping. It is an experience that moves your soul and entwines the participant in the original design - Nature’s Economy. I hope you get the chance to muzzleloader hunt this season. And if you do, take the time to introduce a child to the outdoors by taking them with you. Good luck, be safe, and get a big one.

Campfire Epiphanies

To seek epiphany with every undertaking in life is a worthy ambition. For most, if our souls are in tune, there are unique and powerful settings that reveal our epiphanies more often and vividly than others. For me personally, sitting quietly around a campfire after all others have turned in for the night is such a setting. While nestled into a camp chair listening to the lonely calls of coyotes and owls in the distance, the tuned-in soul stares into the low flame and glowing embers as the firelight casts dancing shadows across the camp perimeter and various pieces of life’s mysterious puzzle just seem to come together in the mind. There are personally unique revelations, lessons, and epiphanies waiting for each of us at the campfire, some are absorbed quickly while others take many years. The real trick is enjoying the wait – you simply have to be there to carry on the tradition, to be open to the experience, and to watch for a revelation, lesson, or epiphany to unfold.

From the time I was born our family always camped both by ourselves and with family friends. My first of many lessons at this age came from around the campfire observing the interaction of adult family and friends ranging from booming laughter to quiet reflection. I watched and learned how to socialize and enjoy the great outdoors through those observations. I heard stories of camping, hunting, and fishing trips past and through those stories I learned of my family’s outdoor history while sitting around the campfire. As a very young child those experiences were the foundation of my understanding that there was a heritage worth keeping alive.

From adolescence through young adulthood the campfire sessions morphed from basic social lessons to lessons and revelations about life itself. Basic social lessons derived from simple observations evolved into life revelations derived from personal interaction. Now I was part of the unfolding story around the fire. I began passing down stories and creating memories in my own rite. From the age of eight, deer camp at Ft. Leonard Wood was the pinnacle of my year. I spent every deer season camped with my father and his friends, each of whom eventually became my friends as well. It is a rite of passage when a boy gets to finally share the campfire with Dad and the other men. It is an experience a young soul never forgets. In addition to understanding there was a heritage to be kept alive, at this age I began to understand the bigger picture of Nature’s Economy and our charge to responsibly interact within nature’s intricate framework. I began to understand that all traditional interaction with nature provided for not only great recreational opportunities but also very real and serious lessons beyond recreation to be learned by a young and old alike.

Today, having finally attained middle age, I have reached the point in my life where I am able to confront my own mortality. While at the campfire late at night I am able to imagine the twilight of my own life on the distant (…hopefully) horizon. I realize the importance of keeping our heritage alive and I strongly endorse taking seriously the levity of human interaction with Mother Nature. These days the lessons and revelations materialize in terms of years as opposed to minutes; however the epiphanies and memories are now the mainstay of my campfire experiences. I have also come to understand it is not necessarily how much fur you trap, on what property you get to hunt, or the size of the game you harvest, rather, it is with whom you do it that matters most twenty years later. Those who were there for me years ago in my outdoor adventures, knowingly or not, left an impression of unimaginable value. I now ponder what mark I can leave to help others understand and value the relationship we, as humans, have as active participants in the fabric of life in Nature’s Economy.

For me, forty one years of campfires have now come and gone. For forty one years I have sought out the campfire’s counsel and comfort while sharing the fire with many family and friends, some of whom are now forever gone from this life. I have come to realize, unfortunately, that some epiphanies only manifest themselves after a loved one forever passes from the fire’s light, for their passing turns out to be an integral part of the revelation, lesson, or epiphany itself. It is one of life’s little ironies that, given the proper perspective, through loss a person actually grows in character and understanding. It is my belief that during the course of our lives each of us should strive to leave some gem of intellectual significance, upon our passing, for a surviving loved one or friend to discover as they reflect back while sitting at the fireside. To that end I owe a great debt of gratitude to my dad, Clifton, Alton, Jigs, Casey, and Barbara. In life we shared many campfires and created many memories. Late at night while sitting at the campfire I have spent many hours thinking of each of you. And, to each of your credits, many answers and much peace has come to me as a result of those memories. In no small way you have each provided understanding for me of the quote…”Yet you do not know what life will be like tomorrow. You are just a vapor that appears for a little while and then vanishes away.” That understanding has changed the way I cope with the challenges of life. I try not to sweat the small stuff and most of the difficulties associated with man’s economy are ‘the small stuff.’

There is an opportunity for each of us this deer season (Nov 14-24) while spending time at the campfire to introduce a child to Nature’s Economy. To provide a child an additional venue for discovering answers to many of life’s questions while interacting in Nature’s Economy is a unique experience that can set the stage for a lifetime of memories, revelations, lessons, and eventual epiphanies. I hope you seize the opportunity. It can turn into a gift beyond your wildest imagination. Good luck, be safe, and get a big one.

Bobcat Trapping on the Ozark Plateau

I suppose I inherited from my father my propensity for adventuring as far from the road as possible. Apparently there is a mental trait that drives a restless outdoor soul to seek out new territory that few others often see or visit. That same trait also causes an otherwise social being to seek complete solitude during interactions with nature. When afflicted by this mental trait a person rationalizes that the further back in the woods they travel the fewer folks they will see. Therefore, in my outdoor adventures I tend to ‘walkabout’. For the past two years opening weekend of firearms deer season has found me circulating in the northern reaches of Indian Trail State Park in an area where particularly large whitetail bucks are rumored to haunt. As all in our deer camp would joyously tell you, those large bucks have eluded me for the last few years. However, both years I have seen what, at first glance, appeared to be a small yearling deer but then turned out to be a particularly large bobcat. Both years the bobcat has presented itself in the same general location along an edge bordering an old clear cut and a tract of old-growth timber. And, both years the sighting has left me with an idea of packing in a few traps and setting them in order to add an additional dimension to my annual deer hunting adventure. Utilizing the still-hunting method, an outdoorsman could set a small trap line and run the line while following the same hunting circuit each morning. Now that would be a mountain man adventure to remember!

Missouri furbearer trapping season begins November 15th at 12:01 am and all traps must be removed by midnight on January 31, 2010. All traps must be plainly labeled with the trappers name and address. Legal traps include foot-hold traps with smooth or rubber jaws only, conibear, foot-enclosing-type, cage-type, colony traps (with openings 6 inches or less in height and width), snares (under water only), and cable restraint devices. In Missouri, after harvesting each bobcat (otters as well) trappers are required to contact the local MDC agent for CITES tagging. The CITES tag provides valuable information for proper management of wildlife populations and without the tag the pelt and carcass are not legal to possess and/or transfer to a buyer.

For bobcats my trap of choice is a 1 ¾, 4-coil, off-set jaw trap. With 4 coils the trap is stout enough to fire through most frozen crust and it is fast enough to catch even the lightening quick bobcat. It is also durable enough to stand up to the riggers of the occasional coyote that snoops around your bobcat set. The off-set jaws allow for a firm yet non-pelt damaging hold on the quarry. My favorite set layout for bobcat is the dirt hole set garnished with feathers for visual appeal along with bobcat urine misted around a close piece of backing (rock or log) and bait containing beaver meat and castor in the hole for scent appeal. Firmly bed the trap on level ground approximately six inches back and three inches offset from center of the dirt hole edge. Usually when I arrive at a set that contains a bobcat the critter is laying there as if taking an afternoon nap… however I wouldn’t advise reaching down and rubbing his belly. He might be relaxed but he will NOT be in good humor!

Some may find it surprising to know that the Ozark Plateau Region, in which our seven contiguous county area is located, is the most productive bobcat region in the state. According to the Furbearer Status report produced annually by the Missouri Department of Conservation (MDC), Resource Science Division, the Ozark Plateau Region has produced more bobcats than any other region in the state for the past ten years. During the 2008-2009 season our region produced 868 (26% of the total) of the state total of 3,333 bobcats harvested. Of the 868 bobcats harvested in the Ozark Plateau Region, our seven contiguous county area (Dent, Crawford, Iron, Reynolds, Shannon, Texas, and Phelps) produced 291 bobcats (33.5% of the Ozark Plateau total).

It is also interesting to know that bobcat population trends generally indicate a gradually increasing bobcat population since the early 1990’s based on bow hunter observation surveys and sign station surveys conducted by MDC. This is a double edged sword for the outdoorsman. For the trapper and predator hunter this is a great boon of opportunity. However, for the small game and bird hunter, increased predator numbers can spell fewer hunting opportunities. If you are a small game and bird hunter you might consider asking a trapper to help harvest the surplus furbearers on your property this season. Or, you might take up trapping yourself. I strongly encourage anyone interested but I would also advise the perspective new trapper to take pause when considering taking up the pursuit - there is nothing easy about trapping. There is no such thing a lazy trapper. Prior to season a trapper must scout for furbearers as well as clean, adjust, boil, and wax his traps. After season begins the trapper will carry traps, tools, equipment, and attractants to the woods to make proper sets. The trapper must then travel his trap line daily to harvest the caught furbearers, all the while pulling fired traps and processing them continually through the entire cleaning process prior to resetting them. After each catch the trapper must promptly and properly process the harvest in order to produce a salable finished fur product, Fur processing can take several hours a day. Finally, at the end of season the trapper has to pull all his traps and sell all his fur at a fur action. It is a great labor indeed but it is a labor of love for the mountain man trapper who loves the solitude of winter in the outdoors and the lessons of the circle of life.


If you are looking for a new outdoor adventure this year trapping can provide the opportunity. Be advised, when trapping takes hold of you your mountain man spirit and your childhood impatience and eagerness will run amuck in your mind. Like a child at Christmas, you will lay in bed at night, sleepless, with visions, not of sugar plumbs, but of bobcats and coyotes dancing in you head (sets). You will anxiously anticipate 5:30 am so you can get out there. And, if you find traps empty you will feel dejected as if the Grinch stole Christmas! In closing, this fall during your outdoor forays please take the time to introduce a child to the outdoors. To firmly bed an impressionable young mind in the interworkings of Nature’s Economy is to share the Creator’s design. In life there is no lesson more valuable. Good luck, be safe, and get a big one.

Ted’s Turkey Hunting Rules

October is Missouri fall turkey season (Oct 1-31). Thirty one days of opportunity to put wild turkey on the Thanksgiving dinner table. However, be aware that the most successful methods in the fall are somewhat different than those employed in the spring. As a matter of fact, you can almost throw all you know about spring hunting right out the window…almost.

At the ripe old age of nine I went on my first fall turkey hunt with dad. As we topped the heavily wooded McFarland Ridge at our Lake Spring farm we ran head-on into my first flock of fall turkeys. What happened next was shocking to me to say the least. The same man who relentlessly browbeat me and shook his head in unbelieving disgust every spring turkey season each time I snapped a twig, stepped in dry leaves or sniffled to prevent snot from running into my mouth, had just shoved his gun into my arms, then hastily and loudly proclaimed, “You wait here!”

There I was standing, gaped jawed, in amazed disbelief. We were 70 yards from 40 oblivious feeding turkeys and my father had just violated his own Rule Number One of the Ted’s Turkey Hunting Rules – be VERY quiet….and now he was running like a crazy man through the woods straight at the turkeys (Rule Number Two – be VERY still), yelling and waving his arms back and forth, … hmmm. Ok, this was bad. Dad had just flipped his gourd in the woods over a mile from the house.

Turkeys ran and flew in every direction. Dad, now standing in the area that was formerly the middle of the flock, was spinning circles and thrashing back and forth like a blue tick hound at a trash dumpster coon convention. I, on the other hand, was nervously standing on top of the ridge, holding two guns, mouth agape, eyes shifting left and right, with an utterly confused look on my face. I didn’t know whether to laugh because dad had just broken every single ‘Ted’s Turkey Hunting Rules’ that he had ever drilled into my head (and now the turkeys were all long gone) or cry because I was afraid he was headed to the funny farm when I got him home.

Suddenly, he paused and started waving me down the ridge. I was concerned. What the heck does this crazy man want with me in the middle of the spot that is now as far from any turkeys as any spot on the property? As I reluctantly started down the ridge his motioning and the strained look on his face both became more intense. I had seen this behavior before. It was the patented Stephens ‘when your kid wasn’t doing what you wanted, at the speed you wanted, at the moment you wanted it in the hunting woods’ impatience fit (all the hunters in my family recognize the signs immediately!) Ok, now things were finally getting back to normal.

He was urgently motioning and loudly whispering for me to sit at a large white oak there in the woods where he had just scared off all the turkeys. Okeedokee! The temper was back but his gourd was still flipped I thought to myself. Then he took out his call and started making this strange ‘kee kee’ sound that I had never heard before. Great, he had forgotten how to call as well as flipped his gourd (Rule Number Three – No freelancing while calling – cut, yelp, cackle, purr, or cluck only). Might as well be playing Elvis I remember thinking to myself since all the turkeys had been sacred into Texas County. After 15 minutes or so of this strange ‘kee kee’ noise making, to my amazement, I saw heads bobbing through the woods coming toward us. Now the turkeys had flipped their gourds! A crazy man scares them off and then calls them back up with a completely alien call…everything I had learned was being turned on it’s ear.

Soon there were several young turkeys all around us and a few were in range. As one came around a tree about forty yards out I squeezed off a shot from grandpa’s old Stevens pump 12 gauge. When the leaves and briars and debris finally settled all I could see were turkeys running and flying off again. Only this time not only was dad up and turning circles again, he was also talking to himself in words that I couldn’t repeat. Apparently I had missed and scared off all the turkeys and now he was in a tizzy (Rule Number Four – Never, never shoot before dad says to shoot). Hmmm, it was ok for him to run and scare them off but it was not ok for me to shoot and scare them off…I’m confused again. But, as dad threw his fit, I felt relieved since the man I loved was now back to his old self and in rare form I might add. All was right in the world. My miss had helped him regain his senses!

Fall turkeys are an adventure like no other. Breaking up flocks and the calls used to call them back are quite different than the tactics and calls used in the spring. And, many of the springtime rules that apply to you do not, apparently, apply to your father while in the fall hunting woods (Rule Number Five – Dad is always right, when in doubt, see Rule Number Five)….now that I’m a dad I really like rule number five. Be safe, good luck, and get a big one.