Reflecting on a First Turkey Hunt: A Letter to my Daughter

Four of the last five years, Mark Seacat and his two sons, West (9) and Townes (7), have traveled to Ohio to take part in an annual youth turkey hunt at Bobby Warner’s Tucker’s Ridge Farm in Meigs County. Both West and Townes have had rewarding and memorable experiences harvesting their first turkeys on this trip in the years past, but this one looked a little different. This year, their little sister, Augusta (4), wanted in on the fun.

Dear Augusta,

I’m writing to you in an attempt to stop time and reflect on your transition from my 4-year-old little girl, to my  4-year-old little girl who is also now a hunter.

When I first met your Uncle Bobby, he invited me to come out to his place in Ohio and experience some amazing whitetail hunting with him. What started out as a hunt has turned into a great friendship that has led to tremendous opportunities for our entire family. As you know, we travel all the way from our home in Montana to Ohio each spring and fall, specifically for two events—trips your brothers, West and Townes, refer to as “the two best weeks of the year.” Ohio has pretty liberal youth hunting restrictions that allow dads like me to take younger hunters afield.

The other day while we were driving to Uncle Bobby’s farm in Pageville, Ohio, you asked: “Is Uncle Bobby our real uncle?” “He is now!” I told you. You laughed and said, “Great.”

We started going to the “Farm” as a family to participate in Ohio’s Youth Turkey season when West was five and Townes was three. Those first experiences I had with your brothers taught me a lot in the way of patience. I learned a bit about hunting turkeys as well.

That first trip, at five years old, West became the youngest kid to ever put his tag on a turkey at the farm (using the same .410 shotgun you used this trip). The next year, Townes harvested his first turkey at age four, beating West’s record as he loves to tell you about! 

The excitement that both of your brothers shared with you brought out that same competitiveness and drive in you, and this year you would not stand for being left behind. Tying Townes’ record as the youngest kid to ever harvest a turkey at the farm seemed like your sole motivation at times, but I want you to know, getting a turkey last week (which of course you know you didn’t) was never the only goal, and I couldn’t be more proud of you.

My pack, filled with everything to keep the three of you warm in the blind, looked like I was on a 14-day backpack hunt for sheep in the Northwest Territories…and that was before you stocked up on snacks.

Luckily, while we were at the grocery store in Athens, the boys let you in on a little secret. Kids can eat whatever they want at turkey camp.

You made some quick and calculated decisions, and we left with three packages of Double-stuffed Oreos, several bags of Doritos and Cheetos, two boxes of gummy worms, and that giant box of Lucky Charms you’re usually denied.

You dove into turkey camp like a seasoned veteran. I was so impressed with how easily you handled the early mornings. Not one time did I have to help you pull on your long underwear or socks, although I dressed Townes (half asleep) each morning from head-to-toe. 

You naturally took to the excitement of being in the blind, sitting on my lap with tired eyes, scanning the field in front of us for animals. You spotted turkeys, as well as many other creatures that the rest of us tend to overlook. Cardinals, bunnies (your favorite), whitetails, marmots, wood thrushes, woodpeckers, squirrels, and chipmunks all presented their own sense of surprise.  

Try-as-you-may, following in the tradition of your brothers, the 4:45 wake-ups left you nestled into your sleeping bag asleep at my feet by 8:00 am; But not before reminding me to wake you up “when the Big Toms come in!” 

I’ll always look back and smile thinking about watching West trying to navigate the sea of sleeping bags and your and Townes’ legs as he prepared to stand and get a shot at a Tom with his bow on that first morning. Not all siblings grow up with this type of “bonding.” And bond we did, the four of us sharing a blind, all crammed in together and trying to “stay super quiet!”

That first morning four Jakes came in quickly to the decoys. I got you positioned on my lap, the .410 shotgun ready and in place, and let you know that if you wanted to, now was your moment – it was your turn to go first.  Sweet as always, you exclaimed a little too loudly, “West can have my turn, he’s supposed to be first up!”

West and I explained that “Jakes” were younger Turkeys, not adult “Tom” turkeys, and the farm rule was that only kids who’ve never gotten a turkey can shoot a Jake. You said, “alright, I’ll do it!” Just a little too loudly, and those Jakes lucked out – deciding  your voice was too sweet, they buggered right off!

I never want you to forget walking through the woods, picking flowers “for mommy,” and trying to deadlift every branch and tree lying on the forest floor. Never forget that raccoon that West spotted that you watched through the binos, or the never ending amount of rocks, sticks, flowers, weeds, deer poop, and acorns that you collected and asked me to carry so you could make your “potion” once we got back to Montana. I know I never will. 

After four early mornings, and with West off “running and gunning” with Uncle Bobby, you, Townes and I took off early for the Bodiker field and blind.  You tried so hard to stay awake but eventually fell asleep on my lap. When you woke a couple hours later, it was already hot, and though I should have seen the tornado coming, I couldn’t say no when you asked me, “Daddy, can I have a snack?  I’d love some CHEETOS!” 

Thirty minutes later I could tell something wasn’t right. You looked up at me with those big brown eyes and said, “Daddy, I’m not feeling very good.”  My hands moved quickly, catching all of the Cheeto/Water mixture, as your brother looked on while providing commentary like, “Oh my gosh, that is so gross.”  Shortly after you got sick, your brother Townes told us, “It’s okay if we go back to the cabin, I don’t care if I get a turkey, this is all about having fun and if Augusta wants to go back we can.”  I was so proud of him at that moment for looking out for his younger sister… but you, having just puked into your Dad’s hands, sitting in a hot blind in south eastern Ohio, made me so very proud…

“We can stay, you’re right Townes, this is fun!”

You brought so much joy and a new kind of energy to turkey camp. Never once complaining, surviving solely on meat and candy—you always had a smile on your face. You’re now the owner of a Seafoam Green BB gun thanks to Uncle Bobby. The boys each received their first BB guns as a result of his nightly prizes to all the kids.