Have you ever fought through a traumatic season in your life and needed a place to process your thoughts? For many of us who enjoy the outdoors, the outdoors is just what we need to understand our new normal. It's hard for some to comprehend, but we know there is more to nature than catching fish or shooting turkeys. It's also where we go to disconnect from the worries of life and connect to a place where we can process. In the spring of 2018, that's just what I needed to do. In the span of four months, I lost both my parents and needed to disconnect and understand my new normal.  

Turkey coming from wheat. Photo by Todd Davis

The return trip

After returning home from my Dad's funeral, I needed to process the events of the last few months. Walking into my office for the first time in weeks, I noticed my turkey vest hanging on the wall. Turkey season was now in full swing, and I knew a few days in the turkey woods was just what I needed. In a matter of minutes, I was packing up for a long weekend hunt. Opening the gun safe, I noticed my Dad's Remington 870 Wingmaster tucked behind my deer rifle. I stopped in my tracks, and in my mind, I could hear Dad telling me to take it with me. I slid it into a case without hesitation, and we were on our way.

On the way, I let my mind wander to memories with Dad. Dad was a welder and worked long hours to provide for a large family. When he was home, there was always a lot to do around the farm. So, when he had time to go hunting, we made the most of it. Hunting trips with Dad were about having fun and giving each other a hard time. Trips with Dad were more about reconnecting and enjoying a day in the woods. Not every successful trip resulted in a turkey, but it did result in a lot of fun.

Into the Turkey Woods

In no time, I was pulling into the lodge, a converted old metal barn that used to be home to the county's trash trucks. With a loft to sleep in, a kitchen to cook in, and a humongous hand-built stove to keep us warm, it was now a pretty cool place to stay. The barn, as we called it, was part of a lease I joined near Olney, Texas. Along with 10 other hunters, I would hunt for almost anything that flew, walked or swam. I was surprised that on this weekend I was the only hunter there.

With my gear packed and the air conditioner turned on in the bunk room, I was soon clothed in my turkey hunting camo. In no time, I was pulling in the gate of the Larimore property. It was our go-to place for turkey. Each spring, they crossed from wheat fields to the south and east to water on the Larimore property. My buddy Leo had a nice food plot that the turkey hit on their way to the pond. My strategy was to set up on the south fence next to the food plot and call a Tom in on his way to the water.

Miracle turkey. Photo by Todd Davis

The setup

I set up a Jake and Hen decoy not far from a mesquite tree at the end of the food plot. Next, I found a spot along the barbed wire fence with some tall grass and a couple of mesquite trees for shade. I stomped a spot in the grass and sat my turkey chair up about 25 yards away from the decoys. I hung my Thermacell in the mesquite tree to keep the bugs off. I had Dad's shotgun resting in my lap, my pot call in my hands, and mouth call tucked in the roof of my mouth. I was a little early as turkeys usually didn't check the food plot out until 6 p.m. or so. Since I was early, I would lightly yelp and purr to pass the time. I have to admit; my thoughts were constantly drifting back to hunts with Dad.

The processing begins

I was enjoying the afternoon and pondered on how lucky I was to be sitting on that fence line. The weather couldn't have been any better, and puffy white clouds lumbered across the sky. My mind was wandering, and I forced myself to pay attention to what I was doing. I glanced at the decoys hoping a Tom was there checking them out. Suddenly, I was hit from behind. I leaped from the chair, thinking a rattlesnake had struck me, but as I turned, I noticed a black calf staring back at me. There was about a dozen feeder calves on the other side of the fence; I guess curiosity got the best of them.

I scared them off and sat back on my chair. I was hoping the commotion of the calves and my jumping didn't scare off any turkeys. Unfortunately, the calves kept coming back. Not only were they back, but they were also taking turns nudging me. It was now prime turkey killing time, so I ignored the nudges from the calves in hopes they would leave. Eventually they did, but I feared all their shenanigans had scared the turkey off.

It's never easy

The afternoon was turning into the evening, and the air was cooling. By this time, I was normally trying to convince a Tom to come a little closer. So far, I had not seen a turkey nor heard a single gobble. I started using my mouth call to yelp louder and more often, only changing to the slate call every now and then. It's funny how one minute you can be enjoying mother nature, and the next you are stressed and frantically using everything in your turkey vest to call a Tom.

When I began my turkey hunting adventure, I thought surely, after all I had been through, the turkey hunting gods would smile down on me. After a few hours of sitting, I thought maybe the turkey hunting gods were going to remind me that bagging a gobbler is never easy. Once again, my mind wandered, and I found myself talking to Dad.

Davis and his miracle turkey. Photo by Todd Davis

Miracles happen

Suddenly, I noticed movement in front of me, and my imaginary conversation with Dad paused. It was a large male cardinal; it had landed on a branch of a mesquite tree to the right of my decoys. At first, I thought, is this a sign? Then common sense would bring me back to reality. In all the years I have hunted that food plot, a Tom had never come from that direction. There is no way this was a sign. Besides, nothing had answered a call all day.

As my common sense wrestled with my heart, I noticed movement under the big red bird. This time it was a big red head. A Tom had snuck in from the unlikeliest of places without making a sound. He never answered a call or gave any indication he was near. Yet, there he was, checking out my decoys. Had I not noticed the cardinal, I likely would have never noticed the Tom.

Dad was there

Lost in the amazement of such a miracle was the fact I should probably shoot this turkey. The problem was my shotgun and I were set up for the turkey to arrive from the west. Luckily, the Tom was wearily working his way toward the decoys, and I was able to shoulder Dad's shotgun. I lined up the sites with the head of the turkey and waited for him to stop. He postured towards the Jake, and when he came out of his strut, I fired. The heavy turkey load caused the 870 to buck, but the shot was true. Once again, my eye caught the flash of something red. This time it was the cardinal flying away. I guess his job was done. It was then I realized, Dad was there the whole time. I guess the turkey gods gave me my storybook ending after all.