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My dad passed away 18 years ago. I thought it would be fitting to share a few memories I have of him and I enjoying each other and the woods and fields of this great state. First off, I want to thank the Good Lord that I had the chance to spend all the time with my dad. We were honestly, I believe best friends. Like most of you I have great memories of my dad growing up as a child. We played catch, did a little fishing, hunting, and tinkered with various cars and trucks. For this blog, I'll stick with a few turkey hunting stories.

I started turkey hunting in 1989 up near Houghton Lake. Drew a permit my first time ever applying, which was quite a feat back in those days. After spending a lot of time scouting, dad and I did manage to harvest a nice tom. It was that early success that spurred dad on to apply the following year for his permit. Low and behold he drew a permit the next spring and again our hunt was on.

Judging from the success we had the previous year we decided to again hunt in roughly the same area. The first couple days we hunted we heard a few toms gobbling but couldn't get anything to come into our calling. Third day found us hunting the edge of some cedars where we had a big tom fired up and gobbling like crazy. Dad found someone's old ground blind and sat down. I was lying on the ground about 20 feet behind him. This bird was double and triple gobbling to just about every call I threw his way and sounded like he was within gun range though we couldn't see him. Then things went all quiet. Taking a cue from the turkey, I also quieted down to just a few putts etc on my calling, trying to pinpoint his location. We then heard a few branches breaking to the east and figuring it to be the turkey. Dad shifted a bit to get ready. Then, finally we could see the movement. It wasn't our turkey, but 3 deer walking past. Well, that explained the turkey going quiet. As I was watching the deer move by on our left, I caught some other movement to the right, and sure enough it was our turkey. When I saw him, he was within 10 feet of dad and neither he nor the bird knew each other were there. It was a very comical scene when they both saw each other at the same time! Dad jumped, the turkey jumped and tried to fly. Dad then did his best imitation of the "Rifleman" of old time TV days, pumping off 3 shots from the hip at the now flying bird. When the smoke cleared, dad was a bit nerve wracked and had 3 empty shells for his effort. The turkey had flown off, but not without leaving a half dozen tail feathers. Dad got close, but no cigar.

Next morning, we hunted a bit further west but again came up empty handed. Round about 10 AM we headed into town for breakfast. After breakfast we headed out to about the same area we hunted in the morning, set out our decoy, and got nestled in against a couple big pine stumps. Now anyone who has spent a few days in the woods hunting will attest, a full belly, and warm sunshine will always lead to a great nap. I stayed awake just long enough to rattle off a few series of yelps on my boxcall, then just couldn't keep the eyelids open any longer. Not sure how long we'd both been sleeping, when suddenly we were rudely awakened by a thundering gobble. I'm not talking about something in the distance, this bird sounded off right in our laps. No doubt I jumped a foot at the sound. Dad and I were about 30 feet apart. When I opened my eyes and got focused, right at our decoy stood a hen and a big tom. The hen seemed somewhat agitated at the decoy and the ole tom he was in love, all fluffed up and dancing in a circle. I glanced over at my dad, whom I suspected had to be moving his gun into shooting position, and found him still snoring, fast asleep. Unbelievable, here that tom's gobble about blew our hats off and dad was still sawing logs!! I tried to whisper to him, but that was an exercise in futility. I then decided to try tossing sticks his way hoping to hit him with one, all the while trying not to have the turkeys see me. It took me a couple of tries, but I was able to hit him and wake him up. He whirled his head around toward me and I suspect he was going to start whining about me waking him, when he finally saw the birds. I watched him then slowly start moving the gun into position and I sat waiting for the roar of the 12 gauge. From my vantage point he should have been shooting, but there he sat gun at his cheek watching. So not sure what was up, I started whispering " Shoot……..Shoot…….Shoot" . Finally, after a couple whispers, he did as directed and pulled the trigger. The tom flopped over in a heap, and the hen ran off through the woods cackling. Wound up being a very nice bird, 22 pounds with a 9 and ¾ inch beard. Handshakes and high fives were in order and that bird wound up being his biggest ever.

- Rick Patridge