
Photos and story by Ryan Sparks
When I was young, turkey season was all about the chase. There are nearly 15 hours of daylight during spring turkey season, and I wanted to hunt every minute of it. Those early years were filled with restless boots, heart-thumping setups and an endless obsession with all things turkey.
Spring turkey season felt like a secret window into the natural world โ those first weeks of spring when the woods come alive again, unfolding in shades of green that seem impossible after winterโs gray. In spring, everything smells new and hums with life.
Spring turkey season also taught me that, in Nebraska, permission for turkey hunting comes more easily. Landowners will often welcome you onto their land with a smile when you ask about turkeys. That meant I could explore new country every season. It gave me a feeling of endless exploration. It meant the spring woods never felt small.
Over time, my passion has evolved. Those early days of filling my own tags gradually shifted into something else. Now the most meaningful moments are about who is with me โ first-time turkey hunters, friends, family and kids.

Thereโs nothing like watching a kid shake uncontrollably as a tom runs toward the decoys. Or seeing a new hunter freeze as a fan tip appears over a terrace. When I bring someone along, Iโm reminded of why I fell in love with turkey hunting in the first place: the music of the spring woods, the unpredictability, the chess match, the chance to witness an ancient ritual at armโs length.
The Nebraska turkey woods changed me from an eager kid who wanted nothing more than to fill tags to a man who finds more joy in calling for someone else. These photos show the splendor of a spring morning and the way a kidโs eyes light up when they feel the magic of wild turkeys for the first
time.
Turkey hunting in Nebraska has given me more than just a love of wild turkeys โ itโs given me a passion for the land and a wonderful tradition to pass on. And in these images, you can see that legacy starting to take root.










