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January 4th, 2008 was the last Friday of my Christmas holiday. When the phone rang at 8:30 a.m. I was sound asleep but I woke up quickly when my mom informed me that there was a very official sounding voice on the other end of the telephone. Maurice Nadeau, president of the Alberta Fish and Game Association (AFGA) explained to me that I had won the essay contest. The contest was sponsored by the AFGA, Alberta Professional Outfitters Society (APOS) and the Safari Club International (SCI). The prize was a turkey hunt in Missouri! Now that was certainly worth getting up early for.
In February my Dad and I drove up to Edmonton for the AFGA’s 100th Anniversary Banquet where I was presented with my award and congratulated by many.
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| Colton inside Possum’s lodge. |
On April 20, 2008 we boarded a plan in Calgary to begin our journey to the State of Missouri and the home of Possum’s Trading Post Outfitters. Our flights were delayed so we were late arriving at the rustic hunting lodge of Ed “Possum” Anders. His first words to us were classic, “Y’all my Canadians?” Turns out that in all his days of outfitting for both deer and turkey Possum had never guided a Canadian and I was his first. We had brought along a large tin of Tim Horton’s coffee as a little taste of Canada. Even though Possum had never heard of Tim Horton’s he graciously accepted the “Canadian coffee” with a smile. The next day was the opening day of the turkey season and we needed to get an early start so we quickly turned in.
The next morning we were woken by a very cheerful Possum. The morning was clear, calm and beautiful. As we settled into our blind the woods around us began to come to life. The sounds were very different than those of the northern woods of Alberta but perhaps the most exciting sound was the gobbling of big tom turkeys. On this perfect morning it seemed we were surrounded by gobbling birds. Possum warned me not to get too excited as most of the gobblers we were listening to were already with hens and that getting them to come in would be difficult. Possum arranged his vast assortment of turkey calls and tried to coax a big tom to leave his current girlfriend and come and check us out. He called sparingly using mainly soft purrs followed by clucks and putts. It sounded great to me but no turkeys were cooperating.
There was plenty to look at through the windows of the blind as deer, blue jays, cardinals and squirrels all visited the small clearing in front of us. Suddenly Possum whispered, “Don’t move, turkeys coming in.” Eight jakes walked out into the field and fed in front of us for 20 minutes. Possum quietly told me that I could shoot a jake on the third and last day of my hunt, if necessary.
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| Colton, with his big tom while Possum looks on. |
Around 11:00 a.m. Possum started an intensive series of hen calls. He explained that by this time of the day the hens are finished with the toms and it was a good time to get a mature gobbler to come in. A half hour later we heard a strong gobble from the timbered hollow below the blind. Possum winked at me and said, “If I can get that gobbler to answer two more times then you had better get your gun up.” He let out a loud string of hen calls and almost immediately there was a gobble. Possum called again and there was another gobble. Possum smiled and said, “Get your gun up, he’s coming in!” I pulled the shotgun tight to my shoulder and waited for the approaching turkey. Minutes ticked by and then the large gobbler appeared, but not in the direction we had anticipated. Possum instructed me not to move. We let the turkey go back into the trees and then I adjusted which opening in the blind I was looking through and we called again. The smart old bird would answer but wouldn’t come back in.
In Missouri you are only allowed to hunt turkeys until 1:00 p.m. each day so just before noon we packed up and headed to a new location that Possum said was a great late day spot. We arrived and called hard for the last hour but no turkeys answered. We headed back to the Trading Post for a late lunch and a nap.
Possum’s hunting lodge is a refurbished church that is over 100 years old. He completely renovated the old church to transform it into the main building of his hunting lodge. He has maintained the rustic charm of the building and has all the comforts of a great quality hunting operation. I was the only hunter at the lodge for the first three days of the season, which made me feel pretty special.
The second morning was a cool contrast to the first. It was much colder, raining and windy. Possum told us that weather like this puts turkeys in a bad mood. They will stay on the roost longer and they are very unsociable in the rain. They will keep their vocalizations to a minimum and many turkey hunters just stay home in the rain. We headed out into the poor weather hoping that it would stop raining soon.
Once we settled into the same blind as the day before we were out of the rain and it was quite comfortable. The woods were very quiet except for the constant drumming of the rain on woods around us. The sun slowly rose but was hidden behind the thick clouds. The turkeys were very quiet and we didn’t hear any gobbles that morning. Possum still tried calling every half an hour or so. Once the rain stopped and the clouds thinned out, Possum thought that we might just have a chance and he intensified his calling a little.
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| Colton and proud father Patrick. |
The woods had remained quiet and still all morning. Suddenly there was a loud gobble from the woods just in front of us. Possum excitedly told me to get ready. Just as I brought the gun to my shoulder three big toms strutted out of the woods. Possum’s instructions were simple, “Take him buddy.” I leveled the shotgun on the nearest tom and fired. Two turkeys quickly left the clearing. Possum quickly unzipped the blind and we both raced over to my first turkey! We admired the big tom and exchanged congratulations.
Once back at the lodge all the stats were taken. He weighed 26 lbs, had one inch spurs and his beard was 9 5/8 inches! Then the turkey was hung on the front porch for everyone to see. After all this was Missouri, turkey capital of the USA!
Possum suggested that my Dad get a licence as there was still a day and a half left in our hunt. After my Dad got his licence we went out hunting again later that morning and tried walking and calling, hoping for an answer. We didn’t get an answer but we flushed plenty of turkeys as we walked.
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| Patrick with his last day turkey. |
The final morning found us back in the blind where I had shot my turkey. The turkeys were quiet but the odd gobbler was announcing his presence. Nothing came into our calls and as the morning wore on our deadline to leave for the plane was fast approaching. Then the group of eight jakes from the first day came back and was cautiously feeding towards us. I looked at my Dad and whispered, “Shoot one Dad, then we can both go home with a turkey!” Dad nodded in agreement and fired at the nearest jake.
We rushed from the blind to admire my Dad’s healthy, young bird. I couldn’t resist and had to comment on how small the spurs were and the tiny beard! We laughed and gathered our gear to head back to the lodge. We had another turkey to clean and a flight back to Calgary in just a few hours.
Possum was a great host and an expert guide. We had had an excellent taste of rural Missouri and the turkey hunting culture that goes with it. What a great experience! Thanks to APOS, AFGA and SCI for making this all possible. ■
For previous Reader Stories click here.
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