Always with the coming of spring and turkey season, the expert turkey hunters seem to come out of the woodwork. This is the time when most of these expert hunters disregard family, friends and obligations.
When questioned about turkey hunting, the truth is not in them. In my growing-up years in the country, I had the opportunity to be around and know several of these dedicated turkey hunters. Many fond memories come to mind as the spring turkey-hunting season approaches.
No two turkey hunters were alike. This means that each in their own way practiced certain habits that might not be used by another turkey hunter, even though these two might be the best of buddies and do a lot of turkey hunting together.
I knew one turkey hunter who, when he arrived at the place where he was to hunt, always would slam the door of his old pickup truck so hard that you would think that the door glass was going to fall out on the ground. Then he would throw his head back and hoot like an owl.
Get their attention
When asked why he did this, he stated that he did it to get the turkey’s attention. He wanted them to know that they weren’t being hunted by the “run-of-the-mill turkey hunter.” And many times, the old gobblers would answer to the hoot of the owl during the spring season. All these old hunters could give the call of an owl as good as the owl itself.
Then, there was this fellow who could not tell the truth, regardless of the circumstances that surrounded a hunt. Whenever a turkey was killed, he was the only one who had the ability to give that sexy mating call that brought that 20-pound gobbler charging down the hill to its date with destiny.
Never, never did this fellow kill a wild gobbler that didn’t weight at least 20 pounds. If the wild turkey that responded to his calls wasn’t to his liking, he just scolded it and sent it on its way. It was rumored that one or two of the turkeys that this individual bragged about killing had the “butterball stamp” already on its thigh. For one reason or another, he always dressed his turkey soon after he shot it.
Most of our modern-day turkey hunters carry only the best, in the way of firearms. Their shotguns have to be the very best. And, too, they only use the most high-powered ammunition that money can buy. They wear only the best in camouflaged hunting clothing. Most times, even their shotguns are camouflaged. They even paint their faces with camouflaged paint. I suppose that if they should miss a wild gobbler, their costume and paint would scare the wild turkey to death.
Not a turkey hunter
I don’t profess to be a turkey hunter. I wish I was a good hunter. But I have this problem that when I get in the woods and stop and become quiet, most of the time, I go to sleep. And you can’t slip up on a wild turkey when you are sleeping. So, as you have probably guessed, I don’t get an invitation often to go turkey hunting.
As I stated earlier, when I was growing up, there were many good turkey hunters around the area where we lived. Many of these hunted the wild turkeys for no other reason than to help feed their families. As a small boy, I would listen to the wild stories told when these turkey hunters got together. Of all the hunters who spun their yards and participated in the turkey-calling contests, one stood out like none other: Cousin Jake.
He had acquired the name “Cousin Jake” because everyone he came in contact with, he called “Cuz.” If he had never seen you before in his whole lifetime, this didn’t matter, the name was the same.
He was a very large man. His appearance gave you the impression that he couldn’t have walked 50 yards, not to mention a mile or so when hunting a large gobbler. He always wore faded overalls and a blue jumper. The shotgun that he hunted with looked as if he found it in a junk pile. The ejector that ejected the empty shell from the firing chamber was broken. Cousin Jake had to drop a piece of small brass down the shotgun barrel, and this would knock the empty shell out of the chamber.
Never missed a turkey
But Cousin Jake never missed a turkey. He never needed but one shot. Most of the time, he only carried one extra shell with him. He carried the extra shotgun shell in the pocket made in the bib of his overalls.
Cousin Jake never used any kind of a turkey caller. He would either use his mouth, or he would pluck a green leaf from a nearby bush and hold the leaf between his hands. He would then place his lips against the green leaf. From his hands came the absolute, perfect mating call of the wild turkey gobbler.
This old man didn’t have to brag about his qualifications as a turkey hunter. Everyone knew that he could hunt with the best and still come out far ahead of them all. Cousin Jake was honest. He always obeyed the hunting laws. He never killed unless he was going to use the turkey or give it to some less fortunate family. This he did many, many times.
I can see him now at the turkey-calling contests held in the local high school auditorium each year. Cousin Jake would step out on the stage and pull a fresh, green leaf from the pocket of his faded overalls. And, as he began to give the calls of the wild turkey, all knew, then and there, who the winner would be that night. When the judges called out the names of the winners, Cousin Jake was always in first place.
Many jokes have been told about turkey hunters. Some are true. Some are what they are intended to be, just jokes. But those old turkey hunters were a special breed of men, just as the old fox hunters and all the others who had to adjust their priorities to fit their loves.
Cousin Jake was surely one of these. And, if there is such a place as a turkey-hunter heaven, Cousin Jake is there. I feel sure that somewhere beyond the sunset, this old man, dressed in his faded overalls and jumper, is entertaining those in his presence with his calls of the wild turkey gobbler.
(Singleton, the author of the 1991 book “Of Foxfire and Phantom Soldiers,” passed away at the age of 79 on July 19, 2007. A longtime resident of Monroeville, he was born to Vincent William Singleton and Frances Cornelia Faile Singleton, during a late-night thunderstorm, on Dec. 14, 1927 in Marengo County, graduated from Sweet Water High School in 1946, served as a U.S. Marine paratrooper in the Korean War, worked as a riverboat deckhand, lived for a time among Apache Indians, moved to Monroe County on June 28, 1964 and served as the administrator of the Monroeville National Guard unit from June 28, 1964 to Dec. 14, 1987. He was promoted from the enlisted ranks to warrant officer in May 1972. For years, Singleton’s columns, titled “Monroe County history – Did you know?” and “Somewhere in Time” appeared in The Monroe Journal, and he wrote a lengthy series of articles about Monroe County that appeared in Alabama Life magazine. It’s believed that his first column appeared in the March 25, 1971 edition of The Monroe Journal. He also helped organize the Monroe County Museum and Historical Society and was also a past president of that organization. He is buried in Pineville Cemetery in Monroeville. The column above and all of Singleton’s other columns are available to the public through the microfilm records at the Monroe County Public Library in Monroeville. Singleton’s columns are presented here each week for research and scholarship purposes and as part of an effort to keep his work and memory alive.)
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