The flock was slowly moving along the white oak flat 150 yards above the creek . If I had calculated my set up right I was close to being in line with them and their intended roost sight for the evening. At 80 yards the birds begin to veer to my left. Continuing on they passed by, out of sight behind a small rocky outcropping to my west.
October is my favorite time to be in the Ozark hardwood hills and hollers that I have been blessed to call home for my 39 years here on this earth. In October, hot summer days have finally given way to the much anticipated promise of another season of harvest. The landscape, which just a few weeks ago was draped in a monotonous monotypic dull green is now alive with color. When the sun slants in just right in the early morning and late afternoon the yellow that adorns the Maples and Hickories produces a light that seems almost alive. The dogwood blossoms that put on their showy snow white performance for all, back in the spring, are now heavy with crimson red berries, one of the Eastern wild turkeys favorite foods. The oaks that have stood patiently thru the hot summer months drawing up moister from the dry and rocky Ozark soil offer their acorns as a smorgasbord to the critters. Out here, all seems well in the world, and it is a good time to be alive.
Finally realizing that the flock is going to pass by out of range I manage to scratch out an excited series of clucks and yelps on my slate call. I’m not the worlds best caller by any stretch, but the sounds produced by the old Eastern Red Cedar slate call are good enough to get a couple of bird that are lagging behind the main flock to cut a course on my side of the rock outcropping. A route that will bring them within gun range. As the late comers to the party take those last few fatal steps the old familiar sound of the safety’s click makes a smile play around the corners of my mouth.
At the shotguns report, turkeys (all but one) take flight in a frantic exit of the area. Mainly to the west, but a few to the North. Two birds fly up directly above me in a large White oak tree. As I make my way out to pick up my bird the two turkeys in the tree above me fly out to the south. Not a great bust up of the flock, but one that makes me anticipate the morning hunt the next day with an elevated amount of enthusiasm.
As I slowly make my way toward home in the fading light, a slight breeze from the NW starts to stir. To the east a harvest moon is rising in a clear night sky, a show that demands attention and reverence. I pause a moment to give thanks to God the creator of my soul and this amazing universe. None of us are promised tomorrow, but, we can have the assurance of an eternity in heaven with our savior Jesus Christ if we are trusting in him for the forgiveness of our sins. Until then I am going to try to spend as much time as possible serving him and enjoying the closest thing to heaven on this earth that I know of. An Ozark hardwood ridge alive with fall colors and the noisy chatter of a flock of feeding turkeys.
