4/12/2019 Rick Page and Doogie Cummings are legends
Well it finally happened. After 33 years of l-i-v-i-n and about 27 years of hunting I finally killed a turkey. And unfortunately, even though I’ve never been turkey hunting, I’m pretty sure it was a damn near perfect experience, which means I’m in for a lot of disappointment in the future. But hell, might as well set the bar high.
It all started at my bachelor party about 8 1/2 years ago. I convinced my uncle Rick Page to let me and a few buddies come out to his ranch as the headquarters for the weekend’s low-key activities. A fight, visit from the local sheriff, a missing persons, and a little trash and dog hair later I was the victim of a lifetime ban from the Alps ranch.
Fast forward to Christmas 2018, I’m visiting with my uncle Rick at my mother’s house and he starts showing me videos and pictures from his game cameras of turkey at his ranch.
He casually mentions I should come shoot a turkey, implying an at least temporary lift on the lifetime ban. I’m in.
Uncle Rick calls me about a month before turkey season and asks if I’ve ever killed a turkey, to which I reply no. He then proceeds to tell me that he has an employee, David Cummings who is an excellent turkey hunter and will be my guide. Confident in my own abilities I tell Uncle Rick that’s not necessary.
“This isn’t amateur hour, you don’t know what you’re doing, you’re going with Doogie” Rick says.
No problem I think, reasoning that I would benefit from seeing how a turkey hunt should look before I go and try to create one myself.
As a result of a rainy weather system, Uncle Rick tells me I need to hurry up and get to Oklahoma so I can hunt Friday before the storm rolls through. I leave Mississippi around 8 AM and stop only once for gas which puts me just south of Castle around 3:30 PM Friday. I tell Ricky Don I am hungry and need caffeine so I stop at a gas station and get a SlimJim, monster, and a bag of fruit and nut mix.
Rick tells me I’m 4 miles from his ranch and that I need to hurry the hell up and that he and Doogie would be waiting for me at his nice gate.
I see Rick and Doogie on the Polaris and follow them to the ranch house down a gravel road.
Uncle Rick swaps my Carhart beanie for a camouflage hat and I put coveralls on over my black PRL shirt and jogger sweatpants, throw on my hunter boots and assemble my Benelli montefeltro 12 gauge and put in the full choke. Doogie gives me a shell and asks if I need another to which I reply “yes two please”
With that all three of us climb into the Polaris and drive out to the hunting portion of the ranch and stop at a gate. “Good luck” Rick tells us as Doogie and I set off on foot.
404pm Doogie makes hen call, turkeys immediately respond, we begin walking toward the gobble
405pm we are on edge of field and Doogie calls again to hone in on the birds as we continue walking
421pm we arrive on foot to a field that backs up to a wooded draw/creek bed after having done an end around on the birds, Doogie walks into a thicket of brush and trees about 50 yards from the corner of the field. He instructs me to sit and lean against the base of a tree and cut a shooting lane out of the brush. I rush through this process due to the proximity of the birds and it costs me the camera shot (but that’s okay!!)
430pm three jakes appear and stage in a corner, Doogie calls and other turkeys off to our left (that we can’t see) cause the three in the field to alternate fanning and sticking their heads up. We wait for what seems like an eternity but turns out to be about a 90 seconds until Doogie is comfortable the turkeys are in range.
432pm a turkey finally clears a bush obstructing my shooting lane and with Doogie’s go-ahead, I fire, scattering two birds on the wing and causing others to run or edge further from us. Realizing that wasn’t supposed to happen, I fire again this time flopping a turkey, my first!!! The surviving turkeys hang around for a second and at one point another bird starts jumping on the bird I shot.
We go down, admire the harvest, take a few pictures and then walk back nearly a mile to the cabin, bird in hand.
Uncle Rick is pleased and Doogie supervises me cleaning the bird and removing its fan and beard (about 5”).
We then go grab dinner at the Red Hen and come back and wear out the bass and crappie in his pond. It was a good damn day.
