From all that I can tell, and from reading the front page of The Mountain Eagle last week, this has been a great year for harvesting turkeys.
Most of the longbeards I have looked at, or seen in the sights of my shotgun, have been older birds — three years or older. I haven’t seen one jake, although I did hear from a hunter who said he knew of someone who filled not only his tags, but his son’s tags by taking four jakes. Shame on that man, and if his son had already killed any turkeys shame on him, also.
If you kill jakes they can’t grow into being a longbeard, and half of the fun of turkey hunting is hearing them gobble as they come to your call. Some people just have to kill something. They are out of touch with what hunting means.
As you have read here before in Struttin’ Time, the real pleasure of hunting is the hunt, not the harvest. Getting to be alone, just you and nature, and the loud cars and motorcycles running everywhere (sorry, I just had to put that part in).
I spend almost 80 percent of my time alone, but I am one of the happiest people on this Earth. The reason, I think is I love what God has loaned us, His Earth.
As the stories have poured into me this season, I am thrilled at the number of children that are hunting, and I hope they always find the time and have the desire to hunt.
I have promised some kids that I would be in Letcher County to hunt with them. Since the season closes May 10 I guess I need to get off the computer and start planning some hunts.