A boy 14 years of age, I started for the woods with the intent of harvesting a big old boss gobbler. I made my plan of attack and headed for the hollow below the old farm where I had been born and raised. As I made my way into the woods at daybreak I heard several toms sound off in the misty morning. I made my way to a little bench slightly above one gobbler and pulled the old box call that I had borrowed from my father out of my coat pocket. As I set up to call, a hen behind me began to sing her sweet song, yelp , yelp, yelp, the gobbler responded instantly, I laid the box call to the ground and let the hen continue to draw the gobbler closer. A few more yelps from the hen and the gobbler moves closer, it isn't long before his blue head and full tail come over the hill where I'm waiting and I send a load of #5's from the mossberg 500 I had gotten for christmas his way, he falls to the ground with wings flapping and I'm on top of him instantly. My first full blown trophy boss gobbler, I took him home with pride and told my father and mother how I called him in, how I had worked the box call like a champion and did everything my father had ever taught me, the pride and accomplishment of that day will be forever engraved in my mind. Many years have past since that day as I sit at my mothers house a few weeks after my fathers passing away. My mother asked me if I remember the big gobbler I had killed as I was a boy and how proud I was. I told her I was just thinking of that, she asked if I remembered the hen up on the hill behind me calling to that big tom, She caught me by surprise and I wondered how she had known..she came closer and whispered into my ear, It was not a hen up on that hill at all, It was your father......

For all the parents out there who are teaching their children to be hunters and showing them the way of the woods. Thank You !!! Author/Tim "Deergrunt" Willyard