By Ira Miller
You awaken a few times during the night, each time you pull the sleeping bag back over your head. It takes but moments for you to slip back into sleep. And then at some god-forsaken hour you are awake. But this time you are not cold, it is something else. You listen. It is so quiet that the only sounds you can hear are the drumming in your ears and the occasional soft snores of your hunting partner Eric. Wait, there it is, the sound of the coyote. It is a family, no a pack you remind yourself. It is time. You slip from your sleeping bag and put on the only pair of pants and the only shirt you are not already wearing. You stand up and quietly slip outside. The cool night air instantly fills your lungs. You are ready. You can see the fires from the other camps and see the figures standing around them. One of them bends over and pours himself a cup of coffee. You realize how hungry you are.
You walk over and turn on the Coleman two burner stove. You place a pot of water on one burner and a skillet on the other. Into the skillet you place ten strips of extra thick cut pepper bacon. You listen as the bacon sizzles occasionally interrupted by the pop of grease. You turn and gaze outwards into the darkness of the forest. The moon is full and casts eerie shadows onto the forest floor. You listen and hear the coyotes one more time and then all is quiet.
You turn your attention back to the bacon. It is done. You take it out and lay it aside. Into the skillet you crack six large eggs. You then take two mugs and pour the now boiling water into them. You pour two packets of hot chocolate mix into each mug, then you go to wake Eric.
It takes some coaxing to get Eric out of bed but as soon as the smell of bacon and eggs reaches his nostrils he is out of bed and pulling a pair of camo pants over his long underwear. He then pulls on a wool shirt and over that puts on a camo shirt. You walk outside as he starts to put on his boots. The eggs are now done so you remove them from the skillet and place three eggs and five pieces of bacon on a plate and then do the same to another plate. You sit down to eat just as Eric walks out of the tent. He pauses a moment and takes a deep breath. There is silence as you both eat.
As if reading your mind Eric asks, "what is the plan for today?"
"I was thinking we would hunt south, cross the creek at the gravel bar and hunt that ridge line. See if we can�t get a gobbler to cross over that fence from private property." There is a long silence. You both knew what the plan was; you had spent well over an hour discussing it over last night�s dinner. You finish the last of your bacon and get up to do the dishes. When the dishes are clean you go into the tent to get your gear.
You check your fanny pack to make sure it has every thing that you will need. Two diaphragm calls, one box call, two bottles of water, snickers, a slightly smashed but still edible sandwich, a flashlight, and two turkey decoys one hen and one jake both with stakes. You then reach in your pants cargo pocket and feel for your compass, map and lighter. You grab your shell belt and check that it has ten Winchester high base #6�s. On the belt you also have your Buck knife. You put on the belt and then the fanny pack and reach for your shotgun. A 20 gauge Remington 870 Wingmaster. You instinctively work the action and then check that the safety is on. Eric grabs his gear and shotgun and you set off through the woods without speaking a word.
After an hour of walking without the aid of flashlights you come to the creek. Eric�s flashlight switches on and he swings the beam along the creek. The water shines from the glare of the flashlight, fish dodge around in the beam. You finally find the branch that is stuck into the sand bar as a marker. You walk along the bank until you come to the gravel bar you start across. The water rushes around your legs and you feel the water as it starts soaking through your boots. You reach the opposite bank and start up . You reach the top and stop to wait for Eric. He reaches the bank a few moments later and you start up the hillside. After ten minutes of walking your thighs are burning but it is Eric who calls the stop. You both stand doubled over breathing heavily. After you both catch your breath, which you notice with a hint of satisfaction that you caught first, you start back up the hillside. At last you reach the top and find the opening were you plan to spend the morning. You place your hen decoy on a rotting stump and then place your jake decoy on the ground looking straight at you. You then find a large tree and lean against it.
For the first time all morning you struggle to stay awake but at last the sun starts to filter through the trees and that�s when you first hear it. It can�t be far, no more then 75 yards. It�s a gobbler, a tom, and damn he�s close. He lets out another gobble this time much closer. You are ready for him, you expect to see him at any moment, marching into the clearing in full strut. You give a few soft yelps and then shut up, you just want him to know of your presence. He is quiet, he must be real close now, no more then 40 yards. You can see him in your mind, his eyes searching everywhere for anything that seems out of place. Then suddenly you hear it, the sound of a truck. And the bird heard it to, you hear twigs snap as the retreats. Seconds later a Dodge pickup comes into view, two yuppie road hunters in the cab the passenger with a shotgun between his legs.
Eric and you say some very unprintable things as the truck passes. They spend how many thousands of dollars to lease that land and what do they do on it? They go road hunting. As you think it over you are wondering why the bird had stayed for so long. Surely he had heard the pickup long before you had. But that�s turkey hunting for you, were it always seems like something goes wrong. But there is always tomorrow�
