Dick Kirby's 25th Consecutive Grand Slam

It was May of 1970 on a calm, cloudy morning in the foothills of the Alleghany Mountains in New York State. I sat awaiting the approach of a creature I had never seen before, the Wild Turkey. He had all but disappeared from our area but with the restoration efforts of the NWTF and the NYS -DEC, the wild turkey was becoming more visible statewide. Bob Wozniak had taken a gobbler earlier and it was at his invitation that brought us on this hunt. Totally unprepared without camo clothes, no face mask or gloves, I sat motionless my heart pounded as a gobble thundered through the freshly timbered maple hardwoods surrounding me. He was off to my right, closer now as he boomed out another gobble that seemed to shake the ground. He was coming around a curve on a logging road. Piles of downed tree tops dotted the forest floor as he closed the distance.

The Rush Had Started. I distinctly remember what appeared to be a sparrow or small bird jumping from limb to limb atop one of the piles of downed tree tops. Something didn't seem right so I stretched up to get a better view. As I did a sparrow seemed to be perched on something unfamiliar. It was my last craning look that revealed the sight of a brilliant fire engine red object and then below that the glistening brown and green appeared. In that split second I realized for the first time I was eyeball to eyeball with the unforgettable sight of a glorious spring gobbler. He took my breath away. I tried to stay calm. Dad had taught me to never move fast when wild animals see you but to move slowly, so I did. It didn't work. The turkey was off and running with amazing speed for such a big bird. After missing my first instinctive shot, I pumped another shell into the gun, the gobbler lifted gracefully into the air with incredible speed. The rush was almost uncontrollable. Every part of me was crying out "shoot, shoot," but at the last second a voice of experience instructed me to swing out in front of the bird's beak. As the 12ga roared, down came my first wild turkey. What a sight, what an experience, what a rush. Thirty-eight years later and with hundreds of similar encounters, I can say unashamedly that I still get the same rush I felt on my first turkey hunt so many years ago. Memories of each challenging turkey hunt will never be forgotten and is etched forever in my mind.

Sharing with others in the hunting fraternity has always been part of my make up. Once Quaker Boy was established, I felt camaraderie with other hunters as they too decided to hunt wild turkeys. I find great joy and satisfaction in knowing that I have helped thousands of hunters find the same rush I had in 1970. It is both gratifying and rewarding to be part of perhaps one of the greatest thrills a hunter can experience.

With this celebration of my 25th consecutive Grand Slam of wild turkeys I want to thank my wife and family, all the wonderful folks at Quaker Boy, all of you who have helped me reach this level of success. Without all of you and the blessing from a loving God, I could never have accomplished this incredible feat. Thank you so much... your friend,

Dick Kirby