Living My Life as a Turkey (Hunter)

by Ed H Edwards, a Lansing Chapter Member, avid hunter, and fisherman

“One thing hunting has taught me is patience”.

  -Robert Ruark

The tom was now in range, stopping to my right, and did not look like he was going to advance any closer. It was now crunch time!

For nearly the first half of my life, it was beyond my dreams to see a wild turkey, let alone hunt and eventually kill one. Things change. In the early 1980’s, turkeys were released in Southern Michigan, adapted, and reproduced so well that a limited spring season was established within ten years. The initial seasons were two weeks long, and permits were on a draw basis. My 1st opportunity happened in 1992. Due to a work commitment, I could only hunt the last morning of the season. I set up a decoy that somewhat resembled a hen turkey and really did not hold out much hope. My friend Jeff called out a few yelps, and a tom answered! More yelps were answered, and the gobbles were getting louder. By gosh, he was actually coming as inexorably as fate, and soon his head popped up in the tall grass. This was the first time I had ever used a head net and was having a severe wardrobe malfunction! My vision was diminishing with condensation on my glasses with every breath I exhaled. I had on cotton camo gloves and was able to wipe my right lens with my thumb and finger, restoring sight, and waited for him to fan his tail and turn away. When he did, I pivoted and got the shotgun in position. Within a few seconds, he turned, broke strut, click-boom, and my first turkey was down!

During the three-plus decades since my first turkey hunt, I have been fortunate to bring many to possession and have three rules that bring success.

Rule one. Hunt where there are turkeys!

Rule two. Get hidden. Build a brush blind with a comfortable chair.

Rule three. Be patient. I’m in the blind mornings from 6 to 11 o’clock. This year, I made six five-hour sits and saw toms every day, but they just would not commit. On my seventh morning hunt of the 2026 season, everything came together, and I tagged out at 8:30. It was a cold season, and most mornings I dressed in the same clothes as worn during the November deer season.

Proper clothing, good snacks, and a thermos of hot coffee made it tolerable. Killing a 25# tom with a heavy 9” beard and 1 5/8” spurs made it a special blessing!

Strange but true turkey hunting experiences.

A typical hunt for an Eastern turkey on one of the outdoor TV shows has a script that goes like this:

Two dudes leave the truck just before daylight and walk down a two-track through a wooded area. They stop and call now and then. If they get an answer, they may put out a decoy, but always scramble and set down at the nearest tree and aggressive call. The non-shooter does the calling and beats the ground with a turkey tail fan and hides behind it when a tom comes into view. Often the tom stops just out of range but cannot resist the aggressive calling. Once in range, the shooter pellet plucks the tom, and the celebration starts. The shooter fist pumps several times, they both run to the deceased, but often still nerve flopping gobbler. The non-shooter picks it up and comments on how big and beautiful it is. “A great thunder chicken and son look at them spurs!” They shake hands, hug, chest bump, and head back to the truck as a commercial break comes on.

I’ve had very few hunts that follow the script, and when they do, I’m good with just a handshake if hunting with a partner. Three of my memorable, strange happenings that somehow had a successful ending:

The lay-down snoose. A bad day to be a Jake.

During most of the 1990’s, a Kansas City, Missouri, business associate invited me to visit during turkey season, stay the weekend, and go turkey hunting. I vividly remember the last time we hunted. The lease he had was nearly a two- hour drive from his house, and we always stopped for a sit-down breakfast since he was a diabetic. Departure time from his house was 3 o’clock, making for long mornings. The first day, we spotted toms still in bachelor groups with no interest in our decoys or calls. Day two was very quiet, and about 10 o’clock, my eyelids felt like they were attached to a ship’s anchor. 

Using my seat cushion for a pillow, I was snoozing in no time. I woke up to a hen turkey yelp. Thinking it was time to go, and my friend was messing with me, I opened my eyes and looked around, still flat on my back, and saw two hens walking about 15 yards past my boots and a jake following them! Once the jack walked behind a tree, I rolled up on my left shoulder and had no idea where the recoil pad of the shotgun ended up, but somehow I was able to line the bead up when he stepped from behind the tree. Click-boom-tag filled! Hunting turkeys in Missouri stops at noon for the day, and I had less than 15 minutes to spare!

A Gobbler Grom Heaven

It was not even 7 o’clock when I shot my 2023 season gobbler. It started like a scripted turkey hunt. A tom was on the ground in the woods behind my stand, answering and coming to my yelps, and would be in sight within seconds. He never came due to what happened next. A different tom came from only God knows where, spiraling down through the woods and landed no more than three paces from where I was sitting! No way was this going to work out. Being in full camo and tucked into cover, I froze like a tongue-tied kid in a Junior high play. I swear the tom was looking at the decoy with his left eye and me with his right. After a short stare-down, he took a few cautious steps toward the decoy, and once he was in front of a bush between us, I got my shotgun in position and as soon as he cleared the bush shot him at 8 yards! With a tight pattering turkey load, a shot this close could be challenging. But I have an advantage, being a “double-barreled Darrel,” I load up a turkey load in one barrel and a Federal Black Cloud Close Range #4 steel load in the other barrel. This now-discontinued load was intended for ducks over decoys, but also very useful for turkeys that come in tight, and I have killed five with this load, including my 2023 tom.

A Stand-up Routine

My 2025 tom was killed on a quiet, still morning, zero gobbling on the roost, and only one hen was sighted in a distant field. At about 10:30, I had had enough and stood up and spotted a tom coming silently out of the woods in full strut, heading toward the decoy. A tree adjacent to the blind gave enough cover to raise the shotgun, and as soon as he came out of the strut, I flattened him at 25 paces while standing!

At day’s end, I can be called a turkey hunter or turkey (hunter). Like life, you call it as you see it!