Women in the Outdoors Campfire Confessions
For many, turkey hunting is an obsession or the quest to bag the bird of a lifetime. When a big tom comes wandering into range, your body shakes, your stomach turns upside down and your heart beats like crazy. But, to me, it is not about that anymore.
Last year, while hunting gobblers in the north woods of Wisconsin on the last day of the season, the biggest gobbler I’d ever seen was 50 yards away and I didn’t have a shot. I just sat there as Einstein (as I named him), strutted back and forth and gobbled like thunder, with no promise of ever coming closer. My husband and I watched this show for almost a half hour.
I questioned myself as we left our set up: Could I have nailed that shot? Would I have missed and sent him away a bit wiser? Or worse, wounded him and sent him running but injured?
In the end, I was happy with my decision. We returned to camp, packed up our trailer and headed home to begin the summer, laughing and enjoying the final day of the season. What I didn’t know then is that it would be a season I would never forget.
Four days later I was diagnosed with breast cancer.
Einstein quickly became a distant memory as I went through the busy life of being a cancer patient. The days ahead were a challenge — tests, chemo, and news that I was a gene carrier. Could it get any worse?
I opted to have a bi-lateral mastectomy, followed by 16 rounds of chemotherapy, then reconstructive surgery, all of which felt like the life was sucked out of me.
As I set the date for my final surgery, I realized turkey season was quickly approaching. My application needed to be turned in by the end of December. The surgery was in January, plenty of time for full recovery, which would allow me to shoot my gun and take part in another season.
I vowed I would again hunt where my previous season ended. Much to my amazement, Einstein still roosted in the same spot as I left him and followed the same daily pattern.
Having been through an ordeal last year, I spent my season sitting and waiting, not chasing the birds. Should the good Lord want to bless me with a bird, He would put me in the right spot.
As I sat in my chair, I thought about all I’d been through and realized how my life had come full circle in the last year. There I was again, in the woods, turkey hunting — something I am so passionate about. Not five minutes later, along came Einstein in full strut right behind a hen. I had to calm down and prepare myself before I could even lift the gun and put a bead on him. Just as I pulled the trigger that smart old tom dropped his head and ran for the hills!
I was both thrilled I’d missed him clearly but angry at myself for botching the opportunity.
Days passed and I saw him three more times, each encounter without a shot. But I had a blast watching him outsmart me each time.
Turkey hunting for me is no longer about getting a bird. It’s about appreciating everything that comes along with it. The bird is just a bonus to experiencing nature through a new set of eyes and a new outlook on life. I will always be a turkey hunter, but now I take the time to absorb everything nature has to offer. — Tracey Czechan, Pewaukee, Wis.
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