When I first started turkey hunting, I didn't know what was what. I had a box call, and I could make sounds that resembled a wild turkey. I had camouflage from head to toe. I even had decoys and my grandfather's old 12 gauge double-barreled shotgun. On the outside, I looked like a turkey hunter. I even felt like a turkey hunter. And when I had that first gobbler silently walk into my decoy set, I had to wonder to myself "what is so hard about calling a bird to you and killing it?" Truth be known, I was surprised by the bright red-headed visitor. As I slowly raised the old side by side, I knew I was about to bag the bird. My heart was pounding in my ears; the adrenaline was pumping as though I had a 10-point buck under my stand. The turkey was a mere 15 yards from me. Shaking and trying to get the gun up, I aimed at his head and pulled the trigger. The air was shattered with the roar of Winchester #6's. And then, the silence was broken by the sound that every turkey hunter has heard at some time or another... the familiar beat of wings taking to the air, leaving me sitting there in awe. I had missed. I don't know how. I played it in my mind over and over, I guess I shot right over his head. I wasn't ready when he appeared. Ol' Tom had gotten the best of me.
It is a lonely feeling sitting there just after you have missed a gobbler. It is even worse walking out of the woods empty handed. I hunted the rest of that season without ever again even getting close to a gobbler. I saw most of the turkeys in old logging roads running away from me, or at the other end of fields, paying no attention to my calling. By the end of the season, I knew there was more to this turkey hunting than I had first thought.
Season two started out pretty much the same, a few sightings, never getting close to my quarry. I was trying to figure this thing called turkey hunting out on my own, but what I found was that the learning curve for a turkey hunter is pretty steep. It was the last day of my second season when I finally got my first turkey. I had enlisted the help of a friend of mine who knew more than I how to hunt turkeys. It was late in the season, and though the Tom only gobbled 4 times, he covered at least 200 yards to get to us. And the rest, they say, is history.
Over the last few years, I have learned a lot. I am still no expert. I don't claim to be. I can't kill one every time out. I consider myself lucky to kill one a season. That is the nature of turkey hunting. But, I will never forget how I got my feet wet in the sport.
Since the time when I harvested that first turkey, I have been about as hardcore as you can get when it comes to chasing those "Spring Thunder Chickens". I hunt them in the afternoons, when I am fortunate enough to get off early. I hunt them before work, when my schedule allows. Any excuse, I mean ANY excuse, to get out there... and I am there.
This past year, a young man by the name of Matt Emigh joined the staff of Tennessee's Wild Side and had shown interest in getting out and doing the same things for pleasure that he did for work. More specifically, he just wanted to do more hunting and fishing, and he really wanted to get his first turkey!
Yep. You guessed it. Matt Emigh sounds like a good excuse! We would talk about hunting all the time at work. I had even bought a second shotgun just to have in case a family member or friend who didn't have a gun wanted to go. So, in preparation for the upcoming season, Matt and I went out and patterned the two shotguns that I had.
He had gone and bought a box call and slate and was getting pretty good. He got a diaphragm call too, but we won't talk about that. Maybe next year he can use it… Matt was ready and I was too... not just because we were going to go together, but just because it was turkey season.
We began our morning standing on a hill overlooking a bottom. I whispered to Matt, "If they roosted down in the hollow we should be able to kill one". I was excited at the chance to call in Matt's first turkey but at the same time I was more than a little nervous that we might not hear the first gobble. As daylight grew closer, I let out my rendition of "who cooks for you", and was answered by the sweet sound of Mr. Tom sitting on a branch.
My eyes got wide because experience had taught me that a bird roosted there will come to this one particular gap in the fence. He should. I think he should. Well, anyway, I told Matt he would. Matt was more than a little impressed that one hoot would make one gobble, or maybe he was just excited that I seemed to know what I was talking about. Either way, the hunt was on!
We skirted the edge of the field we were sitting in and came to that gap in the fence. I told Matt to sit up with his back to a big tree surrounded by a big sticker bush. I plopped down beside him and we waited. As the morning began to break, we heard the songbirds start to sing.
I felt myself becoming a teacher. I explained to Matt why I put the decoys where I did and what we would do if we heard a bird coming from behind. Then it happened! A skunk ran between the jake decoy and us. We froze. Pepe Le Pew kept right on trucking. The thought of being sprayed by an unhappy skunk scared us both, but it gave us a good laugh.
Just then, Ol' Tom began to gobble on his own. It was my cue to get back to the business at hand. I told Matt that when the gobbler first starts we don't want to blow his ears out with the call, but instead give him some soft tree calling. I explained how the turkey is trying to let all the hens know where to find him. Then, when I felt the time was right, I did a fly down cackle and flapped my hat to simulate the wings of the hen flapping as she lit in the field. Man I was putting on a show and I hoped it hadn't been lost on a Tom who didn't want to play. I was certain that Matt was watching and either thought I was crazy or maybe that I knew what I was doing. My nerves were kicking into overdrive, fearing that this turkey might have different ideas than what we wanted him to do. I had built it up so much that anything but a shot at a gobbler would be a let down for my hunting buddy.
Just then, Tom let out a gobble that told me he was on the ground. Now it was time to see if he really wanted to play. I yelped a little, and he would gobble. Yelp and gobble. I got so nervous I had to move off to the left and leave Matt sitting out by himself. I was afraid I would move and blow it somehow. I didn't answer his gobbles for a minute and then I started purring and clucking.
"GOBBLE!"
"He's coming," I told Matt.
"You see that little cedar tree?"
"Yes" Matt answered.
"That is 20 yards. You've got a good 10 yards past that. OK?"
"OK." And that was all Matt said.
I thought I could see everything that he could see and I was confident he wouldn't shoot a hen.
"Purr, purr, cluck"
"Gobble!" the old bird answered me back immediately though I didn't see him I knew he was close. I was scanning the woods just to our right when Matt dropped the hammer.
"BOOM!" The old shotgun sent smoke and two ounces of lead shot downrange. Since I couldn't see the bird I thought Matt had shot the bird at close to fifty yards out. I jumped up thinking I was going to have to chase a wounded bird, but when I got around to Matt's angle I could see the deal had been done…
Matt Emigh has taken his first bird! I know it was a great experience for him. I have been there. Wanting badly just to be able to see one strut. Wanting the opportunity to pull the trigger. Being able to take your first one gives you a great sense of accomplishment. I ran home and got a camera because Matthew, who swears he's not superstitious, left his at home.
To be there and see it happen was a great thrill for me as well. I don't know when I have been as torn up as I was in the 15 minutes that it took for Matt to kill that bird. I am confident that Matt and I will hunt together again. I think I actually am more proud of the fact that I know Matt doesn't need to wait for an invitation to get out and chase birds in the spring. He is now a turkey hunter! He has seen it done. He has done it! All I did was straighten out the learning curve a bit.
Whether you have killed one bird or so many you lost count, don't let a season go by without sharing some of what you have learned along the way. I promise, you will be glad you did.
Barry Cross was born and raised in Middle Tennessee area. Growing up in Columbia, he spent a lot of time fishing in and around the Duck River and hunting what is now the Yanahli Wildlife Management area.
His interest in television production was born at Middle Tennessee State University. One professor thought Barry had an eye for photography and for the next 8 years that is what he did.
Barry began his career as a photojournalist in 1993 at a small station in Augusta,GA. Soon, he found himself back in Tennessee, working for WKRN in Nashville.
In August of 2000, Barry was offered a job doing an outdoor adventure show and jumped at the chance to do high quality and entertaining stories about the state he grew up in.
Not only has Barry been involved with the production of the Emmy award winning show Tennessee’s Wild Side, he also won two Emmy Awards’s for his work on a campaign for the State District Atty’s called Meth Is Death, in competition with professionals from television stations all across Tennessee, North Carolina, and Northern Alabama.
Married for 12 years to wife Kasey and the father of two beautiful girls, Rachel and Kate, with a job he loves, Barry will be the first to tell you that life is good. But He admits that the hardest part of his job is shooting video of people doing what he wishes he was doing. But, then who would operate the camera?
Photojournalist Matt Emigh has been working for Tennessee's Wild Side for a year and a half. He grew up in Nashville, TN, and has loved fishing ever since he can remember. Matt found that love of fishing at an early age, when his dad would load up the car with a tackle box and some old rods, and they both would hit the road to Percy Priest or Center hill lakes.
Matt found his love for the camera while at the University of Tennessee in Knoxville. It wasn't long before he landed a job at WBIR, the NBC affiliate in Knoxville, where he worked for four years. The hectic schedule of the new business afforded him little time for the outdoors, so he jumped at the chance to come shoot for Tennessee's Wild Side, where he gets to make the beautiful lakes, hills, streams, and forrests of Tennessee part of his everday routine.
If having one dad to fish with is a blessing, having two dads to fish with is truly incredible! Matt did the smartest thing a fisherman can do, he married a fishing guide's daughter. He gets to call Dale Hollow's finest fishing guide, Gene Austin of Corporate Guide Service, his dad now. Gene has always been great at the fishing part, but he's proven to be great at the Father-in-law part too!
After shooting many stories of fathers, sons, husbands, wives, and daughters shouldering rifles and shoguns to share the thrill of hunting in Tennessee's outdoors, Matt too has started the great adventure of hunting turkey and deer in the forrests of middle Tennessee. Although he still has a lot to learn, hunting with Wildside Photojounalist Barry Cross, and with Wildside Guides Chris Nischan and Alan Griggs has been a great pleasure. It's a pleasure that Matt plans to someday share with children of his own, just like his father shared fishing with him so long ago.
Wherever you see a Wild Side Crew, you’ll find a Ford tough truck or SUV. Mid South Ford Dealers are proud to sponsor Tennessee’s Wild Side.