ROANOKE TIMES 
                      Copyright (c) 1997, Roanoke Times

DATE: Sunday, April 20, 1997                 TAG: 9704220004
SECTION: SPORTS                   PAGE: C-7  EDITION: METRO 
COLUMN: OUTDOORS
SOURCE: BILL COCHRAN


AILING HUNTER STILL ANSWERS CALL OF THE WILD

Each year it has been getting a little tougher for Bobby Fitzgerald to walk. His doctor has told him it is time to give up his crutches and move about in a wheelchair.

Bobby, 15, has dystonia, an impairment of the muscular system. He also has determination. So does his dad, Jim, his favorite hunting partner.

At 5:30 a.m. on the opening day of the spring gobbler season, Jim loaded Bobby onto a two-wheel cart, the kind used to haul deer out of the deep woods. There was just enough light in the Franklin County woods to maneuver the cart along a faint pathway to a knoll where Jim knew a tom was waiting. He could picture an old gobbler gripping a roosting tree, because on a scouting trip the previous evening he'd heard it fly up on powerful wings that rattled the tree branches. A farm dog had barked in the distance and the gobbler had sounded off as if to reassert its kingship of the woods.

``I heard it one time,'' Jim said.

That was enough.

``It was kind of on a ridge where I had killed one last spring,'' said Jim, who lives in Roanoke County. ``I figured it was a good spot for them to go, because there is kind of a little high knob right there.''

The trip with Bobby in tow was close to a half-mile, then the terrain turned rough and Jim had to carry Bobby the final 50 yards to a spot he wanted to set up for calling.

``He weighs 170 pounds, which is 10 pounds more than I weigh,'' Jim said of his son.

It was on a turkey hunt a couple of seasons earlier that Jim first noticed Bobby had a problem.

``We were sitting still and I noticed his leg was jumping in the leaves,'' Jim said. ``I asked him what it was. We thought maybe it was just a muscle spasm. We had been up some real steep terrain.''

The first doctor who was consulted said it was nothing. ``He told us it was in Bobby's head. He was just imagining he had a problem,'' Jim said.

In January 1996, another doctor diagnosed the problem as dystonia, an ailment that Jim describes as having ``no known cause or cure.''

Every father-son day afield is extra special to Bobby and Jim.

Bobby became a woodsman at age 6, when his dad took him squirrel hunting. He killed his first turkey at age 11. Last spring, tears were shed when he scored again the day before the spring gobbler season ended. ``We'd probably been at least 15 times,'' Jim said. Bobby was on crutches at the time.

``The turkey was down in a hollow,'' Bobby said. ``It was gobbling pretty good, but Dad let out the first call and it shut up. Then, on the second call it gobbled so close that it was unreal. It was like 25 yards.''

Turkey hunting is Bobby's favorite outdoor adventure, whether it be amid the chalky colors of spring dogwoods, the blaze of autumn colors or the silence of winter.

Bobby and his dad set up behind a twin white oak tree on a recent morning. They punched a few pine limbs into the black soil to mask their position.

The resurgence of spring was everywhere, in the pastel colors of new leaves, in the blooms of wildflowers, in the songs of birds. But there was no gobbling.

``We just sat there real quiet,'' Jim said. ``I knew if we hadn't heard him flush out he was still there.''

As daylight gave shape to the woods, another tom gobbled in the distance. Jim called. There was no answer from the roosting bird, but it was approaching cloaked in silence and vanity.

``It wasn't long before he came toward us strutting,'' Jim said.

The gobbler moved ghostlike through the woods. He fanned his wide tail and lowered his wing tips until they raked the leaves. He tucked his blood-red neck into his ruffled chest. His 9-inch beard dangled like a black bell.

Then he raised his head, and it turned white. ``I could see the old snow-head glowing away,'' Bobby said.

That was the target, and Bobby was on it. The tom weighed 18 3/4 pounds.

``I will have to go along and shoot them with my finger for a while,'' Bobby said. ``I am not ready to limit out yet.''


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