I spent the other morning having a wonderful conversation with a game warden at the Vermont Fish and Wildlife Association about turkey calling.

You’ve read correctly. Turkey calling.

With turkey season right around the corner, I was interested in writing a story for the local paper about the many ways in which to, well, in which to get a turkey’s attention. Not that I am about to take up hunting or anything like that. I still prefer my turkey to come frozen with the label “Butterball” on it.

I was just curious about what seemed to be a Vermont youngster’s rite of passage—their first turkey hunt.

So I met up with the game warden who had been spending his free time at a local 4H Club teaching kids the many different turkey calls to use when out in the woods and fields.

Turns out a turkey’s repertoire includes more than just its famous gobbling. There is the yelp, the purr and the putt.

The call, though, that got my attention was a “kee kee run”—which the game warden explained is basically a three-note call lasting about two seconds followed by a yelp at the end. He did a wonderful job mimicking the call for me. I, on the other hand, needed some more practice as the warden muttered about a raccoon in heat or something like that. Again, I will be getting my turkeys in the frozen food aisle at the local grocery store.

What drew me to this specific call was when the game warden told me it was the sound a young turkey would make when lost from the rest of the flock. Just the image of a young bird frantically trying to reconnect with its parent, broke my heart in a Disney movie sort of way. Why is that all Disney movies have those tear jerker moments?

Well, I had the information I needed for my story and after writing it right on deadline and filing it with the editor, I didn’t think anymore of turkey calling.

A young turkey on my path today, calling out to be found. 

Until today.

While spring is still proving a bit blustery, I set out for hike anyway. I pulled on my trusty, dependable mucks as many paths are beginning to show signs of mud season. While the wind whipped harshly at times, the walk felt good and it was reassuring to see even the slightest of buds on the trees. Soon, very soon, nature will be fully awake from its winter slumber.

I continued walking and as I did I began thinking. Thoughts of Holy Week starting this week crossed my mind and I felt a twinge of sadness that I was not yet serving a church in the area. I didn’t realize how much I was missing pastoral duties, especially the ones during the high holy days. Just then my sadness became a frantic cry to God as my heart began asking a question that echoed many a heart in search of being settled, secure, certain of the future, once again.

Where are you God? I feel lost God. I feel like I am wandering and wandering and wandering. When, God, when will you give me a clearer path? My heart was about to cry out “where are you?” again, but it was interrupted by an even louder cry.

It was indeed a kee kee run.

Over the ridge I could see in the clearing below a young turkey running around shouting out its three notes punctuated by a yelp. The poor little thing was frantic. It was lost. It, too, was crying out to its absent parent, “Where are you?”

Kee kee run. Kee kee run. Kee kee run.

What the little turkey didn’t know was that a gathering of larger turkeys was just on the other side of a stone wall that was blocking its view.

I silently rooted for the young turkey to cry out even louder than it was. Cry out. You can do it. They will hear. Your loving parent is close by. Don’t give up. Not now. Cry out.

Kee kee run. Kee kee run.

Louder and louder the frantic little turkey cried out as if it heard me rooting it on.

Soon the older turkeys heard and made their way over to the little one crying, surrounding the one who was once lost. The little turkey calmed down. It was safe and secure again.

I turned back on my path and wondered about my kee kee run to God—that cry of a lost child frantically wanting to connect with its divine loving Parent.

I also cry and cry. I give God my best three short notes followed by a tearful yelp.

Where are you? Do you hear?

But until now, I never stopped to realize, that further down the path, just around a corner, over a looming tough hill, just out of sight behind a stone wall, God is there. God is indeed hearing my cries. God is making His way towards me. Soon, very soon, God will make His presence known, calming my frantic worry and bring beautiful peace to an uncertain path.

Kee kee run. Kee kee run.

The lost will be found. Always.

Kee kee run. Kee kee run.

God hears the cries of the faithful.