Fare thee well: a turkey season recap on film
It is sometimes said that people stop buying new clothes and stick with a certain wardrobe when they reach the happiest point in their life. The clothes they were wearing then, remind them of that chapter of their life whether they realize it or not, so they naturally just gravitate towards those clothes in some kind of subconscious hope that those times will return. I believe that’s why there is a disproportionate number of boomers wearing cheesy hawaiian shirts year-round at any possible opportunity. I’ve caught myself doing this with things too. It is usually unintentional, but sometimes I choose to make it intentional. Like wearing camouflage from the 80s and 90s during turkey season, even though there are plenty of options of highly technical, moisture-wicking, odor-resistant, laser-cut alternatives. There is just something right about wearing 80s, 90s, early 2000s classics in the turkey woods. Vintage articles of clothing are just as revered, if not more, than as the photos and VHS tapes that painted a visual story of that era to the people that came up in it. I don’t care if some wearable ai-technology comes out that changes your shirt’s camo pattern in realtime depending on the environment, or whatever tech is coming next. I’ll always reach for the old stuff - the old canvas pants, classic patterns, high crown trucker hats - when spring rolls around. The old stuff just feels right and puts you in the right mind.
I recently wrote a story for Field and Stream about Mossy Oak’s Texas turkey camp that is a hat tip to some of those feelings. TLDR: at camp, there were many turkeys tangled with, cactus stepped-on, rattlesnakes seen, and the place is chock full of turkey hunting lore - it’s brimming with 90s nostalgia down there, including a sign outside the door that reads, “If you’re not God or George Strait, take your boots off”.
I chose to shoot film photos for that trip down to Texas, and I continued to shoot film on a little point and shoot for the remainder of the season when I got home. There’s so many reasons why shooting film, especially in this day and age, is such a joy. But there’s something about it that just feels right to use specifically during turkey season, that brings out a yearning for the first heyday of turkey hunting, 20-30 years ago. I believe that we are in another heydey for it right now - but I sure as hell love the old days. Below are a bunch of point-and-shoot film photos from that trip, and from other trips throughout this year’s season. Until next year, turkey seasons. Fare thee well.
The smell of my vintage Mossy Oak shirts take me back to early hunts with my Dad! The memories that smell unlocks is like no other
My $15 Billabong slippers, tattered Quiksilver trunks (not Vuori for Christ’s sake), and faded Blackies-by-the-Sea t-shirt say something very direct about the best times of my life. Sure, I bought suits and loafers for a while, but I always seem to revert back here. I’m comfortable in this, particularly here on the beach in Vietnam, and, whether people like it or not, it’s still the best version of me. Even if I’m 50 with a wife and two daughters.
Your post also brought me back to my very first hunt, many years ago, which happened to be for turkey. My brother-in-law called them into our vicinity in the Northern California (Lake County) forest we were sitting in. I knew they were close and had my borrowed Belgian Browning up at the ready. Here’s how it went:
BIL (whispering urgently): Shoot it.
Me: Shoot what?
BIL: The turkey. It’s right there.
Me: Where?
BIL: Behind that tree. Jesus.
Me: Which tree? We’re in a fucking forest. Jesus.
BIL: (giggling)
Then that fricking gobbler raised its leathery head about 10 yards from me and stared into my eyes. I shot, barrel bobbing and weaving due to my own muted laughter, and everything stopped.
Me: Did I hit it?
BIL: Jesus.
I dropped it where it stood. Everybody gets lucky once in a while. Enjoyed the read, Mike, brought me back. Thanks.