Quite a few years ago when I lived in Wisconsin, my neighbor Erv, an avid hunter, was chatting with me about the upcoming spring turkey hunting season. I’m not sure how it happened, but before the conversation ended I found myself agreeing that it might be fun to try turkey hunting. Erv, retired and eager to teach, jumped at the opportunity to take me turkey hunting. Before I knew it, I found myself purchasing a hunting license. Being a good sport, I didn’t want to ruin the experience for him. And who knew, maybe turkey hunting would be fun.
Erv had known me since I was ten years old, and took my small interest in turkey hunting quite serious. I realized early on there would be no backing out of our incredible turkey adventure. Tiny details such has not owning a gun or hunting garb didn’t deter Erv. He brought out something that looked like an army truck tarp. “Just put on this jumpsuit,” he insisted, “roll up the legs and sleeves and you’ll be fine.” Next, he handed me a shotgun or a rifle, (I’m not sure what the difference is), “Here you go, you’re all set!” Erv exclaimed with authority.
Never having shot a gun, it was imperative that we have “shooting” lessons before the big day arrived. Erv’s suggestion, of course. By this point I was too deep in to back out. Anyway, it looked pretty simple: aim for box, pull trigger, loud noise--holes in box. I didn’t understand what there was to practice for when it came to firing a shotgun (or a rifle, whatever it was). Erv went first. Like I said, it looked pretty simple.
“OK, Sheila,” Erv stated with a big country smile, his seasoned hunting eyes twinkling as if he knew something I didn’t know, “your turn.”
“So I just aim for the box and pull this trigger?” I asked Erv politely so he wouldn’t feel as if he was standing there for no reason. He nodded. I pulled the trigger.
Erv pretended to not be surprised when I landed on my butt from my kneeling position. I laughed first so he wouldn’t feel awkward. I didn’t want to ruin the moment for him.
I was unaware that turkey hunting was an early morning sport. I was also unaware that rain didn’t influence whether or not the hunt should be canceled. Erv handed me a hat that coincidentally matched the tarp I was already wearing. I learned quickly that getting wet and attempting to walk quietly through the dark woods at 5 a.m. was part of the hunting experience.
Erv’s hearing isn’t what it once was and he kept talking me through our “plan” in what he believed to be a whisper. I smiled and nodded while delicately tripping over tree roots and branches in my oversized tarp.
Erv pulled a gadget out of his camouflage jumpsuit and started making turkey noises. I silently prayed no turkeys would come within shooting distance. As if on cue, turkeys came into view. My heart began to race. Erv’s eyes lit up and his whisper grew even louder.
“Ok, Sheila, sit real still by this tree and get your gun in position.”
“Oh dear, God,” I secretly groaned as I planted my wet, cold body next to the tree and lifted the gun to my shoulder. How did I get into this situation in the first place? I’m cold, tired, drenched and I don’t like turkey meat. Obediently, I put my eye to the scope and my finger on the trigger. My teeth began to chatter and my body grew tense as I tried to steady the shotgun. I didn’t want to ruin the moment for him.
Turkey was clueless that his life was in danger. He strutted about searching the ground for his next meal, unaware that he was in my scope to be my next meal.
“Steady now,” Erv coached me. I had never seen him this excited. “He’s getting closer. When I say fire, make sure you aim and pull the trigger.”
“Uh-huh,” I gulped.
At that exact moment, my prayer was answered. Turkey, for no apparent reason, turned and ran in the opposite direction, out of sight.
“Darn!” Erv shouted.
“Darn!” I tried to sound genuine.
“Well, it’s getting late. Want to try again tomorrow?”
“Hmmm” I mumbled while attempting to pry my frozen fingers off the trigger and lift my numb body from the ground. As much as I didn’t want to ruin the moment for him, it was time to bring an end to my hunting career.
“This has been an experience,” I started as we headed up the hill toward home. “I’m thankful we shared this morning hunting together— now I can check turkey hunting off my bucket list. More turkeys for you, Erv!"
I heaved my gun up on my shoulder and marched my soggy self back to Erv’s truck in true hunter formation. You know, I didn’t want to ruin the moment for him.
Stay the Course…
Sheila
(Erv & his beautiful wife, Doris!)
Thanks for posting, Erv andI both enjoyed the story. That was a few years ago.
ReplyDelete