Almost 40 years ago, I was stationed overseas as an infantry company commander. I received orders to a post in the US and was looking forward to hunting once again.

There was always something magical about being in the woods before daylight and watching/listening asthe world woke up when dawn approached. My good friend Craig told me that I should look up his dad when I got to my new assignment: “He loves to bow hunt like you and he can show the local areas.”

When I got to my new duty station, I met Jim (Craig’s dad) and we hit it off immediately. Jim showed me around the military training areas and taught me movement patterns of the deer in those northern woods.Jim also became my mentor. My dad had died when I was a teenager, and Jim filled the gap for some of what was missing in my life.

Though my freezer was always full of deer and geese, the most important lessons Jim taught me were always related to ethics and values.

And he taught me all about hunting turkeys. I had come of age in the mountains of Southeastern Arizona, and in the 1970’s, we did not have a viable turkey population. Under Jim’s coaching, I learned all about turkey behavior and conservation. I learned how to shock a tom into gobbling by imitating an owl and how to coax him into range by playing the role of a hard-to-get hen. I loved the interactive nature of turkey hunting and Jim was singularly responsible for my enthusiasm.

I maintained contact with Jim over the years, but we did not meet in person nearly enough. Several years ago, I heard from Craig that his dad was not doing well, so I reached out to him on the phone. I asked him ifhe could still walk and he said “Yes, but only for short distances.” I then resolved to take Jim turkey hunting one last time. I did not care if we shot a bird, but I wanted Jim to be in the field when the critters all wake up and a big tom thunders a gobble over his domain. We agreed upon a date and set a plan in order.

I next called Craig and told him: “I’m taking your dad turkey hunting and you’re coming too.”

He said: “Well, I’d love too but I have an important meeting coming up and can’t miss it.”

I told Craig that he needed to apply the five year rule: “Project five years into the future and look back on this moment. Would you have more regrets missing the meeting or missing an opportunity to go turkey hunting with your dad?”

When he looked at the situation from that perspective, it was an easy decision. We went as planned, had agreat morning, and even called a couple of toms in close (but did not shoot one). That is a memory that I willalways cherish, and it was even more special because I got to help bring a father and son together for whatmay have been their last shared hunt.