The future of hunting is in the hands of our youth. Therefore it makes me proud to pass along this story about 10-year-old Cole Robatin, of Sunbury, and his experience during this year's youth spring gobbler hunt. The story is told by his father, David, a high school classmate of my daughter and son-in-law.

"Arriving at the place I wanted to hunt, we searched for a flat enough spot to set up our new ground blind. It wasn't 15 minutes after we settled in that we heard the first tree gobble. Then another gobbler sounded off, and another. We knew it wouldn't be long before they were pitching down all around us. I started with a couple of soft yelps mixed with some purrs and clucks. Each time I touched the slate a host of gobbles let loose behind us. I got more aggressive with my calling and each time I was answered with several gobbles. They gobbled until they reached the field. Then they turned and walked back into the woods where they came from.

"They circled behind us again and seemed to get closer. Then I realized that we had set up on an old logging road and they were probably working their way out to us on that very road. I could see one red-head working it's way toward the field. Then he disappeared. I could see Cole's disappointment when I said I had lost him. Then, out of nowhere, there were two red-heads entering the field. They were Jakes, but had visible beards. As they made their way toward the decoys they passed into Cole's shooting lane.

"Bang!. I could see the first one flopping as the second turned and ran back into the woods. My excitement quickly turned to almost panic as I looked at Cole's face. You see, I had carried my 12-gauge into the woods and loaded it with a 3-inch magnum turkey load, expecting that the adrenaline-fueled excitement would mask the recoil. However, as the turkeys crossed the field, Cole had to adjust the gun and had it a little bit away from his shoulder.

"Ow, that really hurt, Dad," he said with a scared look in his eye.

"I didn't know whether to run for the turkey or check his shoulder. Cole decided he was OK and we both burst out of the blind to collect "our" trophy. It was his first spring gobbler.

"The look on his face, a mix of excitement and pride, is a look I will not soon forget. After several high-fives and hugs we took a few pictures, put a tag on him, and walked toward the car. I looked at my watch. 6:30. What a morning!

"Later the same day we ran into the wife of the farmer who had let us hunt. Cole was quick to tell her about his success and thank her for allowing us the opportunity to hunt. The feeling of pride that I had at that moment cannot be described. It was then that I knew he had learned that hunting was not only about harvesting game, but a privilege we cannot take for granted."

n Don Steese, of Northumberland, is a lifelong outdoorsman. His column appears weekly in The Daily Item. E-mail comments to jdsteese@yahoo.com.