He Got the Turkey (I Got the Truck Bumper)

He definitely got the Turkey and I got the truck bumper!  The One-Eyed Hillbilly and Kelly Parker spring turkey hunting the Ozark Hills in the early 1990's.

As I look back over 35 years of hunting, trapping, and fishing, it occurs to me that sometimes you get the proverbial gold mine and sometimes you get the shaft. In the hills the folks that venture out in the wilds in search of meat, fish, and fur, need thick skin ‘cause when you get the ‘shaft’ your friends will always be watching – it’s a law of nature. And, being the nature of a hillbilly, they will never pass up an opportunity to rehash the old tales while around the campfire with friends. This past week while anxiously thinking about the upcoming 2011 fall hunting, trapping, and fishing season I recollected seasons past and it just hit me – if country singer Jerry Reed was still alive to sing the Great Outdoor version of his hit song “She got the goldmine (I got the shaft)” it would be called, “He got the turkey (I got the truck bumper!)”

Case in point – Missouri spring turkey season about 20 years ago. It had been a very wet season and the hunting was tough. Every morning it seemed that the wind was blowing and a drenching rain was always coming down. The last day of season I was hunting with my friend Kelly Parker at the farm at Lake Spring. That morning we were late getting to the woods and at the creek, instead of crossing and parking on the far side, I swung the Bronco over in a low spot beside the tractor trail and we headed to the woods. About 11:00 am I decided to walk back toward the truck and I met Kelly on the way. He had seen a few turkeys in the back field earlier and he was going to take one last dig at them. I was soaked and decided to head to the Bronco. When I got there I noticed that the Bronco’s fenders were now on the ground. Hmmm, I hadn’t left it like that. Seems I had parked right over a seep spring in the tall grass and, with all the recent rain, the ground was so soft my Bronco had sunk! Of course it wouldn’t budge an inch with both axles sitting on top of the ground. Back to the house I trudged to get Uncle Boone’s truck and chain.

When Boone and I got back to the Bronco, Kelly was still not back from hunting. We hooked up the chain and the ¾ ton gave a mighty tug. It was so mighty, in fact, that the Bronco launched out of the seep spring like it had been shot from a sling-shot. At that same moment the front bumper popped and launched from the front of my truck! Wet and disgusted I got out of the truck and walked over to the bumper, picking it up just in time to see Kelly walking off the creek bank with a turkey! As I sat there holding my truck bumper Kelly walked beside me, held up his turkey, and Boone flashed a picture….he got the turkey (I got the truck bumper!).

Some years later I was elk hunting in Colorado and, after scouting and hunting hard the first day I managed to find good sign about 5 miles from camp in a remote canyon. I came back to camp and told my buddy, Ellis Floyd, where I had found the sign and I told him to keep it a secret. It was alright if he came but I didn’t want a crowd the next day in the canyon. The next morning nobody got up but me. I headed out and began my climb from the canyon to the high meadows hoping to catch a bull making his way back up the mountain in the early morning. As I sat half way up the mountain eating a sandwich at about 10:30 am I looked down to see a wagon train of vehicles travelling up the canyon. It was Ellis and he had brought the whole camp! No sooner had I watched them exit the trucks and head into the low meadows below than a shot rang out. I got a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach and the sandwich almost came up! I immediately headed down the side of the mountain. After the mile walk to the low meadow I met the whole crew with Ellis standing there smiling as big as the world. He had walked out into the meadow and saw a 5x5 bull walk out from the other side. He shot it with a rifle that he had borrowed from,…you guessed it,… ME! My spot, my scouting, my elk, and he killed it…with my gun. He got the turkey (I got the truck bumper!).

While hunting in the hills you might as well laugh because you can’t cry every time it happens – you’d never have a happy season. I feel your pain Jerry Reed, I feel your pain. So says the One-Eyed Hillbilly.

Greg Stephens is a 35-year veteran & life-time student of the great outdoors. His column appears weekly in print & online publications. You can email him at gregstephens@one-eyedhillbilly.com. For more columns go to www.one-eyedhillbilly.blogspot.com.