05/19/2026
Reflections on my 2026 turkey season:
As I sit here on May 19th, 2026, I reflect on this photo my buddy Finn Kangas took of me carrying both of our birds out of the woods in Vermont just two days prior. Like most turkey seasons, it feels like it came and went way too fast.
My season began in Virginia on April 12th, a state I had never hunted before. I was able to share camp with my cousins Dave & Andy Kovach, Mike Post, and Blake Fouts. Two days later, I killed my first Virginia bird, and then another two days after that. From there, I came back home to Kentucky where our season opened on April 18th. I was fortunate enough to fill both of my Kentucky tags — one in Shelby County, where I live but had never killed a bird before, and another a few days later in Owsley County.
After Kentucky, I made my first-ever turkey hunting trip to Vermont to meet up with my friend Finn. We were greeted with beautiful weather the first day and then three straight days of rain after that. On Friday morning, May 15th, Finn and I had an incredible hunt. I managed to swing and miss on a bird that I honestly should have never missed and watched him fly off through the timber. After driving fourteen hours to get there, that sting sat pretty heavy.
Thankfully, the day wasn’t over.
Later on, we found another bird, and I killed my first Vermont turkey. The next day brought good weather again, but no luck. We had a great hunt with plenty of gobbling until some goon from who knows where slid in behind us and started yelping on a mouth call that sounded like somebody kicking a sack full of cats down the stairs. Even with that circus going on, we eventually got a bird roosted that evening in the same area where I had missed the bird the morning before.
The following morning turned into one of those hunts you never forget.
We listened to birds gobbling on the roost, watched them fly down, heard them fighting, and moved through beautiful country filled with ridges, boulders, rocks, and terrain unlike anything I’d ever hunted before. We finally set up, worked the birds into range, and Finn killed one while I took another bird from the group.
It was the perfect ending to a season filled with a lot of gobbling, a lot of miles, and a lot of memories. Somehow, I also ended up carrying both birds off the mountain that morning.
But through all the successful hunts and the unsuccessful ones, what stands out most are the people I got to share the season with.
I got to watch my good friend Christian Swarts kill his first bird in four years. I hunted with my buddy Hank Patton in Eastern Kentucky. I got to see my friend Bill Gabard again. I hunted with people like Will Sams and listened to stories from Paul Michael Nethery as he chased his first single-season Grand Slam. Not only did he complete it, but he scratched and clawed his way through it as a newer turkey hunter. That’s one determined young hunter, and I loved seeing it happen.
One of the highlights of the season was finally hunting with Finn Kangas. For years, we had only known each other through Facebook. Finn had always told me he had stacks of butternut and other wood for me to build calls with, but I had to come to Vermont to get it. This year, I finally made the drive.
From the moment we met, it felt like we’d known each other for years. Despite the age gap between us, we had so much in common. We laughed constantly, hunted hard, and became good friends in a short amount of time. I know we’ll stay friends from here on out. He serves as inspiration to me that I may be able to continue turkey hunting for another thirty years.
Unfortunately, this year I didn’t get to hunt with my good friend Billy Hurt, who I’ve traveled with to different states for years, and I also didn’t get to spend time in the woods with my friend William Howard. Hopefully that changes soon, and we get another chance to share some laughs and another spring in the turkey woods together.
The older I get, the more I realize the best part of turkey season isn’t just the hunting. It’s the people you experience it with. The connection between turkey hunters is hard to explain to people who haven’t lived it. In a lot of ways, it feels as strong as teammates on any sports team — maybe even stronger.
The other thing I’ve grown to appreciate is the opportunity to travel and experience new places. Too many people, myself included sometimes, get focused on checking boxes — killing birds in different states, filling tags, completing slams. But what stays with me the most are the little things.
The wind sounds different in places like Kansas, Nebraska, and South Dakota. The grass is different. The dirt is different. The smells, the sights, the sounds, the flora and fauna — all of it leaves an impression on you.
Vermont was that way for me too.
I had never seen terrain like that before. The rock walls, giant boulders, steep ridges, and mountains were bigger than I ever imagined. It was a completely different style of hunting than the vast open country of the Black Hills or the Pine Ridge country of Nebraska. Different scenery. Different woods. Different atmosphere.
And honestly, that’s part of what I love most about all of this.
As I sit here reflecting on that photo, the season I had, the time spent with friends, and the new terrain I covered, I can’t help but already think about next season.
There’s a lot I need to do between now and then — business-wise and personally. There are things I need to change, things I need to expand on, and projects I’ve had sitting in the back of my mind for the past year that need my attention. Turkey season has a way of putting life on pause for a little while, and now reality starts creeping back in.
Driving home yesterday from Vermont, I talked to Billy a couple of times, and naturally the conversation turned toward where we’re going to hunt next year. Truthfully, I’ve already been looking at maps again, believe it or not.
That’s how this thing gets in your blood.
Like every season before it, this one came and went too fast. It’s hard for me to sit here and realize that two days ago was probably the last gobble I’ll hear until 2027.
But that’s alright.
I still have the memories.
I still have the experiences.
I still have the friendships — both old and new.
And I hope that part never ends.
Because when it’s all said and done, that’s truly what turkey season, turkey hunting, and the turkey hunting brotherhood are all about.
It’s about the people you share camp with. The conversations during long drives. The early mornings and soaking rains. The laughter. The missed birds that still bother you days later. The successful hunts you’ll talk about for years. The meals afterward. The places you never would’ve seen otherwise.
It’s about the connection between people who understand exactly why hearing a gobble on a spring morning can make a grown man feel like a kid again.
Turkey hunting has given me more than birds and filled tags ever could. It’s given me stories, friendships, perspective, and memories spread across ridges, creek bottoms, mountains, farm fields, and backroads in places I may never have experienced otherwise.
And even though the woods are finally getting quiet again, a part of me is already listening for next spring.
