"Turkey Time"
Every now and then, you meet some pretty extraordinary people in the turkey hunting business. Interesting, seasoned and entertaining people. Recently, I met a third generation farmer whose family has farmed the same thirty-four-hundred acres for the past century. Mr. McAllister’s sons now farm the land and help him manage a sizeable portion of the property as a commercial hunting operation.
Mr. McAllister is an avid Civil War history buff. Many of the food plots and other landmarks on his hunting land bear the names of Civil War period icons like Longstreet and Bull Run. He has recreated an old country store on his land, complete with antique Texaco gas pump and glass display cases. Inside the replica country store, Mr. McAllister has displayed a wealth of original antique farm implements passed down through generations of his family. He even has the original oil lamp that lit his childhood bedroom more than 70 years ago.
As you can imagine, he is a whale of a story teller. After he greeted us the morning we arrived at the lodge, he treated us to an hour’s worth of hospitality and storytelling in the great room. Then he loaded us up in his truck and gave us a windshield tour of the hunting property, during which he regaled us with the history of his land, the meanings of the names of the roads and the food plots, and some of his more memorable turkey hunts over his lifetime.
For all his farming acumen, historical wisdom and talent for spinning a yarn, Mr. McAllister is, at heart, a turkey hunter.
A turkey hunting career that spans more than 50 years has made Mr. McAllister something of a turkey expert. It has also, rightfully so, made him quite opinionated about the sport, those who pursue it and the manner in which they do so.
During our windshield tour of the property, and for another hour or so after we returned to the lodge, Mr. McAllister laid out his turkey hunting manifesto. He credits his one-eighth Creek Indian roots for his reverence for the wild turkey; a reverence so strong that he has never transported a turkey he’s harvested in the bed of a truck, but rather he lays the dead bird across the passenger seat. Mr. McAllister says he recoils when he sees someone sling a dead turkey down onto the bed of a truck.
Such was the curriculum of the old school turkey hunting class we attended that first day. Forged in a time when men wore denim overalls, used snuff cans as yelpers and stood behind trees for cover, Mr. McAllister’s turkey hunting credo was a refreshing and – in my opinion – much-needed platform for pure, sporting turkey tactics.
The thing about Mr. McAllister’s gift for oratory is his innate ability to weave his hefty, philosophical pillars seamlessly into otherwise casual conversation. One thing he said about the sport of turkey hunting struck me indelibly, and has stayed with me.
“When you step into the woods in the spring, you're not on your time any more, you're on his time. You're on turkey time. It may take him ten minutes to decide whether he wants to fool with you, or it may take him three hours. All you can do is wait him out.”
“When you're out there in front of him, he doesn't care if you're rich or poor, a banker or a farmer. He's an equal opportunity humiliator. If you harvest that bird, it doesn't matter who you are; you're the richest person in the world at that moment.”
(c) Roger Guilian 2010
Mr. McAllister is an avid Civil War history buff. Many of the food plots and other landmarks on his hunting land bear the names of Civil War period icons like Longstreet and Bull Run. He has recreated an old country store on his land, complete with antique Texaco gas pump and glass display cases. Inside the replica country store, Mr. McAllister has displayed a wealth of original antique farm implements passed down through generations of his family. He even has the original oil lamp that lit his childhood bedroom more than 70 years ago.
As you can imagine, he is a whale of a story teller. After he greeted us the morning we arrived at the lodge, he treated us to an hour’s worth of hospitality and storytelling in the great room. Then he loaded us up in his truck and gave us a windshield tour of the hunting property, during which he regaled us with the history of his land, the meanings of the names of the roads and the food plots, and some of his more memorable turkey hunts over his lifetime.
For all his farming acumen, historical wisdom and talent for spinning a yarn, Mr. McAllister is, at heart, a turkey hunter.
A turkey hunting career that spans more than 50 years has made Mr. McAllister something of a turkey expert. It has also, rightfully so, made him quite opinionated about the sport, those who pursue it and the manner in which they do so.
During our windshield tour of the property, and for another hour or so after we returned to the lodge, Mr. McAllister laid out his turkey hunting manifesto. He credits his one-eighth Creek Indian roots for his reverence for the wild turkey; a reverence so strong that he has never transported a turkey he’s harvested in the bed of a truck, but rather he lays the dead bird across the passenger seat. Mr. McAllister says he recoils when he sees someone sling a dead turkey down onto the bed of a truck.
Such was the curriculum of the old school turkey hunting class we attended that first day. Forged in a time when men wore denim overalls, used snuff cans as yelpers and stood behind trees for cover, Mr. McAllister’s turkey hunting credo was a refreshing and – in my opinion – much-needed platform for pure, sporting turkey tactics.
The thing about Mr. McAllister’s gift for oratory is his innate ability to weave his hefty, philosophical pillars seamlessly into otherwise casual conversation. One thing he said about the sport of turkey hunting struck me indelibly, and has stayed with me.
“When you step into the woods in the spring, you're not on your time any more, you're on his time. You're on turkey time. It may take him ten minutes to decide whether he wants to fool with you, or it may take him three hours. All you can do is wait him out.”
“When you're out there in front of him, he doesn't care if you're rich or poor, a banker or a farmer. He's an equal opportunity humiliator. If you harvest that bird, it doesn't matter who you are; you're the richest person in the world at that moment.”
(c) Roger Guilian 2010
posted by Days Afield Host | 1:25 PM
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