The sunlight filtered through the early fall leaves and speckled the leaf covered logging road in front of us with flashes of light and shadow.  My six-year-old daughter, Jessie,  hand gripped mine as she kicked an acorn in front of her.  We were pulling an old red wagon full of wood cutting equipment home after helping her dad cut some deadfall off of the trail.  The old logging road, or trail, that we were walking on had steep sides towering above our head and making us feel tiny in the forest of shadows and light.  Suddenly Jessie stopped and in a hushed voice cried, "Look, Mom!"  I followed her gaze to see young Jake turkeys jumping above our heads about 20 feet in front of us.  As they jumped from one edge of the road to the other, my daughter counted them as most six-year-olds raised on Sesame Street would.  After reaching the final total of twelve, my daughter exclaimed with enthusiasm, "Mom!  We could have shot twelve turkeys!"  I laughed and gave her a hug, then calmly explained that, well, if it was turkey season we could have at least tried to shoot one!  But in my heart I realized that I was holding the hand to our family hunting heritage.  
     Jessie has been around hunting since, well, since way before she was even born.  I took her with me when I was pregnant with her, bow hunting behind our country home.   Her older brother, Cody, then four, carried my rattlin' antlers and sat near me at the base of a large black oak tree.  He rattled for me and I kept watch.  Unfortunately, it started to rain and we ended up walking home in the rain to take a nap together.  Now Cody usually hunts with his father, and sometimes we all hunt together, Jessie coming along for the fun.  But a new law in Missouri changed all that for our family hunting heritage.  This new law, called the Youth Hunting law, allows a youth younger than eleven, to hunt with a parent as long as that parent had completed a hunter safety course and stayed with the youth throughout the hunt.  This opened new possibilities for Jessie.
     Jessie wanted to go turkey hunting. She had been several times as an observer, but wanted to hunt herself.  The spring before her 10th birthday, her brother, Cody, won a youth 20 gauge single shot shotgun at our local NWTF banquet.  At 14, Cody was already almost 6 feet tall and the shotgun looked like a toy in his hands. But that didn’t dampen his excitement at winning the gun.  The first thing he thought of was, it would be the perfect size for his little sister.  Jessie started practicing that summer and fall with her dad and I, shooting her brother’s gun.  It bruised her shoulder the first couple of times and she was about to give up.  But at the next spring NWTF banquet there was a sign up for a J.A.K.E.S.  (Juniors Acquiring Knowledge and Ethics in Sports) turkey hunting seminar.  This rekindled the idea of going turkey hunting in Jessie.  I signed her up and we both attended the event.  It was very informative.  Although her father or I, could have taught her all the same things she learned at the J.A.K.E.S. event, taking the time to take her and spend the day learning right along with her was enjoyable for both of us.  And sometimes, someone else may do something a little different or give you new ideas to add to your hunting basics.  After the event, Jessie was pumped and ready to try to harvest her first Missouri gobbler.
     We are lucky to be able to hunt on our own land, but it's not an accident that we have turkeys here.  Our whole family is involved in keeping our surrounding property in good wildlife habitat.  We often walk through our land just to get ideas on what we can do to improve it for wildlife habitat.  Planting plots of clover, building brush piles and making small clearing's where none existed before.  We have noticed a surrgence in wildlife since we moved here 12 years ago.  
     The first day of Missouri turkey season found Jessie, her dad, her brother and me, up before daylight getting ready for our first day of turkey hunting.  Cody went his own way, but Jessie, her dad and I went to a spot well know by us as a "Strut zone."   We settled in, Jessie sitting snug between her father’s legs, her father sitting against a giant old black oak tree and  I was behind them with the video camera.  After Roger gave the first few hen tree clucks, we had a gobbler answering back on the ridge in front of us.  Hearing the gobbler answering Roger’s calls always gets my heart going double time. Roger called and worked that gobbler for more than 40 minutes, but he found another hen to strut for and off he went, not coming within shooting range.  This would happen at least one more day before he could sweet talk a gobbler into coming down and checking out our decoys.  Because our season starts on a Monday, our hunt was short so we could all get off to work and school.   
     Saturday came to find us again up and ready before dawn.  Before we even got to our spot, a gobbler was gobbling away!  Once we were set up, Roger started again with his tree talk.  The tom was answering back call for call.  Jessie had her gun up and ready almost the whole time.  She looked so small there between her father's legs, dressed in her camos, her blonde hair sticking out from under her hat like small down feathers.  Finally, we could see the two toms, one strutting on the top of the ridge just past a patch of may apples about 50 yards away.  He strutted back and forth, but didn’t seem to want to come through the may apples to our decoy.  After some convincing hen calls from Roger, the struttin' tom headed down the ridge, his head fire engine red, his feathers fanned out in full strutting glory. He headed toward the decoys, which were set up about 15 yards in front of Jessie and her dad.  At this point my heart was pounding and I was praying for a good clean shot from Jessie.  Will she remember everything we have been working on?  Will she squeeze the trigger?  Will she aim for the base of his neck?  Will she move and spook the turkeys?   Seems like a lot for a little girl to remember.  
     As the big ol' tom strutted down to the decoy, he was only 12 yards from Jessie. He seemed so big in front of her, almost towering over her as she sat on the ground amid the may apples and forest clutter.  Then a loud BOOM erupted from her gun as the tom  flipped over on his back!  She got him!  She harvested her first turkey!  Jessie jumped up like a fire cracker and took off for the tom who was flappin' and rollin' down the hill from her.  The other tom took off up the ridge cluckin'. Save him for next time!  
     A lot of moms cry at their daughter's first dance recital. I cried when my daughter harvested her first turkey.  When she held him up, with some effort, he was nearly as long as she was! The gobbler weighed 1/3 of her weight, at 22.25 pounds!  He also had an 11-inch beard and 1 1/4 inch spurs.  A mature gobbler.
      After Jessie and her dad shared a congratulatory bear hug, it was time to tag the gobbler, take some pictures and head for the check in station.  Luckily for Jessie, she had a dad to help her carry out her first turkey.  Watching them walk, Roger with the turkey slung over his shoulder, and my little Jessie carring her 20 gauge,  side by side through the green spring turkey woods, brought on another round of tears from this proud mother.  
     Later, after the excitement wore down a bit, I asked Jessie what was going through her mind when she looked down her gun barrel at that big ol' tom struttin' and drummin'.  She said, "Mom all I was thinkin' was.....squeeze the trigger.....squeeze the trigger.......squeeze the trigger!  And boy, was I surprised when he fell over backwards!  I don't even remember the gun going off!"
After a couple more days of trying for her second turkey, Jessie decided to sleep in.  But low and behold, her dad had four young gobblers come into him that morning.  But haven't we all done this?  Some mornings it's just too hard to get up.  But my husband has a phrase for that, and Jessie got an ear full when he brought home his second turkey.  "You snooze, You Lose! You can't shoot a turkey from your bed!"
     Well maybe next year!  That seems to be MY phrase!  But at least I know that our family hunting heritage has a good chance of continuing on for a few more years yet!