Martin’s Fat Camp 2025 Turkey Hunt: A Test of Patience, Persistence, and Heart
Martin first got into hunting while working in the hunting industry. It started with a simple conversation about turkey hunting with another field staffer — and that quickly turned into an invite for Martin’s first hunt. After a crash course on what to do, when to do it, and where to aim, they made their way into the blind.
The peaceful warmth of that early May afternoon was suddenly interrupted by the electrifying sound of spring thunder — a gobble that shook the still air. Even recounting it now still sends goosebumps down Martin’s spine. It wasn’t long before one of those toms would be destined for the dinner table. That first hunt lasted less than an hour, and soon Martin was posing for grip-and-grin photos on the lawn. From that day forward, the “spring thunder bug” bit hard.
That same connection eventually led Martin to Fat Camp — a spring hunting tradition started in 2013 by three friends from the academy who wanted to keep their bond alive outdoors. Martin got invited in 2020, and he’s made the trek north each year since.
The 2025 Hunt: Trouble from the Start
Arriving at camp on May 13th, Martin began prepping his gear and quickly discovered a problem: his trusty Tristar G2 Viper 20 gauge — a sentimental favorite he’d won at a banquet and customized for turkey hunting — had malfunctioned, turning his semi-auto into a single-shot. Though he had other options, that gun meant too much to leave behind.
After a few days hunting the same permission property, Martin gathered enough intel to plan one final sit on his last morning. The weather was gloomy — foggy, drizzling, and steady as a leaky faucet.
An Early Start and a Bold Plan
Up at 3 a.m., Martin checked the weather, fed his dog Archer, grabbed a few snack bars, and joined the crew to finalize the morning’s hunt plan. He decided to head back to the permission property, opting for an elevated blind due to the wet conditions but bringing his vest in case the weather broke.
A few days earlier, Martin had called in his first tom and jake using a mouth call — but he lost the opportunity when unfamiliarity with the land and a barbed wire fence funneled the birds out of range. That experience, however, taught him valuable lessons about the terrain and bird movement.
The Final Morning
Parking and hiking to the blind well before first light, Martin passed time listening to a podcast on hunting quiet mountain birds — adding new tactics to his playbook. His first call sequence got a hen to respond, but no sightings followed. As the light crept in and gusty winds rattled the blind, Martin spotted three strutters casually picking through the field like classic cars on a Sunday cruise.
He ranged them at 51 yards — well within range for his custom setup. Finally, one bird stretched its neck, and Martin took the shot, this time relying on his middle finger as trigger man after a work injury sidelined his index. The shot hit, but wasn’t fatal.
The Grueling Track
After waiting to let things settle, Martin began tracking. In the distance, he heard the bird — alive and hiding. Wounded turkeys will bury themselves in cover, and this one had wedged itself deep beneath a fallen pine. Without a clear headshot, Martin hesitated, and the bird took off.
Forced to make a quick decision, Martin looped around the property, trying to outflank the bird. Though unable to cut it off, he eventually closed the distance and made another shot. Problem was — he was out of shells.
The Worst Feeling in the Woods
Leaving a wounded animal behind is every woodsman’s nightmare. Martin sprinted to his truck for more ammo, racing against the clock and the bird’s suffering. Back at the site, ready to finish the job, he realized another blow — his phone, marked with the bird’s location, was gone.
In the thick pine grove where everything looked the same, what should have been a 10-minute task stretched to 45 agonizing minutes. At last, Martin spotted the bird and made the final, merciful shot.
Respect for the Moment
He took a moment to pray for the bird’s soul — a somber, necessary ritual in the hunting tradition. It wasn’t the ending anyone hopes for, but an important, humbling experience nonetheless.
An Unexpected Recovery
Back at camp, Martin shared the story over a much-needed breakfast. Discovering that Find My iPhone was disabled, the group rallied, enlisting one of the camp member’s sons and Spartan Forge to grid search the woods. After some weaving through the pines, they recovered the phone — not far from where the final shot had landed — in a clearing no bigger than a truck hood.
A Hard Lesson and a Sweet Ending
They never did find the decoy bag. But with the bird recovered, the phone back in hand, and a camp tradition honored, Martin capped it off by treating his search partner to ice cream in town.
The Takeaway
Not every hunt ends with high fives and easy recoveries. Sometimes, it tests your woodsmanship, patience, and heart. Martin’s 2025 Fat Camp turkey hunt was a tough chapter — but one filled with lessons, camaraderie, and a deeper appreciation for the opportunities nature provides.
