The morning started as the 6:04am alarm shattered the faint crickets and soothing drone of the fan in the hunting cabin.  I rub sleep from my eyes and stare at the ceiling.  I glance around at my favorite place in the world.  It is a small hunting cabin with a couch, small kitchen, table, bathroom, and two bunks.  The coach lay against the wall covered in our camo, guns, and some of our other knick knacks.  The wall is unpainted and a satelite picture of the 600 acre slice of property in Eastland County proudly hangs on the wall.  Around it are pictures of some of the legends and trophies taken on the lease.  Old forgotten camo shirts lay under the bunks, a rusty pocket knife sits on the nightstand and a set of rattling antlers hangs from the foot of the bunk.  I drowsily sit down at the table and crack open a bag of moist powdered dougnuts that went for 2 dollars at a convienience store.  I take a swig of sour orange juice and get my game face on.  I step into my jeans and camo shirt, step into my cover alls and put on a light camo jacket.  I snatch 3 turkey decoys (2 hens and 1 jake) from under the bunk.  I confidently pick up the Remington 870 Supermag and inspect it for a good 2 minutes.  I run my hand up and down the barrel checking for nicks, I open and close the chamber to make sure that it is not loaded and is proeperly functioning.  I lace up my boots and pull open the creaky door and embrace the crisp morning air.

  I slide into the passenger seat next to my dad in the Dodge and we creep up to the gate.  We pull in out of sight of the road and silently slide out.  I load the 870 and put it on safety, my dad and I put on our camo face masks and strap our turkey seats to our backs.  We walk at a steady pace about 400 yards to the edge of a field.  The crickets stop chirping and a distant blow of a train whistle crawls throught the country air.  We stake the decoys and sit at the base of an oak tree 20 yards from it.  Just as the sun peeks up enough to barely see, I slowly pick up my Knight and Hale Wet Willy box call and give out a few yelps.  Immediately after I finish a frenzy of gobbles erupts as if God turned a switch on.  My heart begins to pound and I keep calling and getting 5 or 6 responses at a time but after 2 hours of no luck, the gobbles die down. 

 We pack our stuff and begin a trek to a popup blind that has been staked down for about 2 weeks and a longbeard was shot at and missed the week before.  We get settled in and after 20 minutes of scanning the woodline my dad falls asleep and begins to snore.  The wind really picked up so I decide to wait a little bit before trying to call.  I watch a group of deer in the field for a while until my eyelids start to get heavy.

  I nudge my dad awake and I was just about to doze off when I hear a gobble that pierces that wind and is within 50 yards!  I am awake in less than a second and my eyes are darting back and forth.  My dad whispers," turkey on the right!"  My eyes shoot to the right and I see a blue head emerge from the mesquite.  "Hen," I sigh.  I look down in disgust but I catch some color out of the corner of my eye!  I slowly turn my head to the right again and see a tom step out.  He is walking towards us at 25 yards enclosing.  I slowly bring the 870 to my shoulder and by the time I am ready, he is 20 yards away.  I put the bead on his head and squeeze the trigger.  The gun goes off and slams into my shoulder and I watch the load of #5 Remington Turkey Shot slam into the gobbler's head and smile as he drops like a sack a' taters.  I turn to my dad and give him a high five and excited hug.  We exit the blind and I have to hurt myself to prevent myself from sprinting with a loaded gun in my hand to the trophy.  He is already expired as we approach and we pause to admire the trophy.  I say a prayer of thanks in my head, swing the bird over my shoulder and hike back to the truck.  As soon as we get into cell phone range I make numerous phonecalls to family and friends to break the news.  My dad and I chatter like little girls about the hunt the whole way home.  Enjoy!

                                       -Dylan Dean

                                         13 years old

                                         Bedford, Texas

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