Bird #2 Spring 2009

I had one of the most eventful days ever in the turkey woods the third week of the season. The gobblers have been giving me fits and doing everything possible to avoid coming into range. This morning, I decided that the best way to get near the gobblers who seem to avoid my blind like the plague was to wait directly between 2 holes in the fence that the birds use to cross through the property I hunt. Their modus operandi was to continue past my blind paying me no mind whatsoever. I wouldn't be in my blind though, so the joke would be on them. It seemed like a sure thing, which should have given me pause when I formulated the plan.

I snuck in very silently, knowing I was probably 100 yards from where the turkeys were roosted and had little cover. I hoped that the cows moving around the roost site would make the birds think that the crunching through the leaves an hour before daylight was just another cow. I also had a ghillie suit on that made me look like a large clump of bushes. I got set up with one fence hole 30 yards to my left and another 15 yards in front of me. I almost felt bad that I hadn't yet called in a bird and had resorted to an ambush, but not quite. I figure that these birds got the best of me too many times and I needed some payback.

I set my decoys about 15 yards to my right, which I hoped would pull an old longbeard up to the fence, through it, and into my sights. At dawn, as usual, 10 gobblers lit up the gray sky. I'd seen this show before, and it usually ended with the birds waltzing off to the next field no matter what I did. Against the conventional wisdom that calling to a roosted turkey is almost always a bad idea, I called loudly using tree clucks and fly down cackles. Since the turkeys seemed to fly directly away from my field every morning and the definition of insanity is to replicate action expecting something different, I mixed it up with heavy calling. One bird in particular, roosted to the north answered every call. I thought that this bird might be one of the "3 Amigos" that I had reduced by 1/3 earlier in the season. Anyway, he answered loudly and soon was on the ground out of sight. I waited a few minutes and there he was. He cleared the woods at about 35 yards, which is an easy shot. Unfortunately he was on the other side of the fence. Even though I was almost certain that the landowner next door didn't care a bit about turkeys, I didn't want to create an issue between the farmer kind enough to let me hunt and his neighbor. I resolved to sit tight.

This bird strutted back and forth, slowly moving toward the hole in the fence. Since I didn't trust myself to keep my red dot on the bird without pulling the trigger, I put my scope on the hole, and figured when his second foot got through the fence, he was toast. I stared at his feet with the focus of an NFL umpire watching a wide receiver's feet as he jumped to catch a ball deep in the end zone. About 3 feet from the hole, it happened. The "monarch" as my fellow hunter on this property likes to call him sailed down from his tree and landed next to the gobbler about to cross the fence. He was huge and owned the woods. He knew it, the other bird knew it, and he knew that the other bird knew it. A hen landed next to him and he went into full strut a few feet from the gobbler I had planned to take home in the back of my truck. The staring contest began and ended in less than 10 seconds. The first bird dropped his head like a subject bowing to an emperor, made some very quiet submissive clucks, and sulked off. All of this took place at 15 yards and I couldn't believe I had two nice gobblers in range and couldn't shoot. Now I was left with 1.

Ever the optimist, I thought that the Monarch wouldn't stand the fact that my jake decoy was set up with 3 hens just on the side of the fence and would cross for a challenge. I'd take him as he crossed. Further jinxing myself, I thought that had just been given a free gobbler upgrade from a 2 year old long beard to the 4 or 5 year old king of this particular woodlot. Of course, the gobbler turned and strutted directly away from me slowly. To make matters worse, once he left, the other bird followed him no matter how much I called. I have no idea why he preferred to follow a longbeard who had threatened him rather than approach my decoys when the boss left. I was heartbroken, though used to it by now. I actually chuckled as he walked off, knowing that even a great turkey hunter is beaten far more than he beats his adversary. I also knew that by not shooting through the fence, I hadn't jeopardized my hunting rights on this ranch which was a good thing. I was a bit sleepy after leaving the house at 2 AM to make it to the spot by 5 and it was time for a turkey nap.

I slept in the blind on a rolled up tarp with my backpack as a pillow just as soundly as if I had been in a 5 star hotel. I woke up every so often to be sure that the field was empty, which it was every time for the next 2 hours.

About 930, a strutter and hen passed to the North, and per standard protocol ignored my calling. They crossed the creek and gave the same treatment to my buddy.

It turns out that the blind he tried to occupy at dawn was utterly destroyed, and white face, the cow we'd both like to turn into steaks was adding insult to injury by grabbing pieces of it in his mouth and shaking them like a dog. I also later found out that the same cow picked up my friends decoy and also his head lamp and ran off with them. So, he had no choice but to re-locate, especially after he ran out of rocks to load in his wrist rocket and shoot at the cows. At about 1030 he gets up and moves to my side of the creek 175 yards in front of me. This would turn out to be a fateful decision.

As if on cue, right about the time he gets settled he lets out a loud series of cuts on his box call I hear a loud gobble behind me. There are 2 gobblers moving past my setup towards my friend. They pass at 50, and head toward the creek crossing. Unfortunately, my friend is 70 yards south of the crossing, where he spent the first few hours of the morning. You can guess what happens next. The birds waltz over to the crossing and begin strutting 10 yards from his morning setup, then move on. We are now 0 for 3 on gobbler encounters.

We decided to stick it out, since we only had one day to hunt. Just after lunch (not that I ate anything other than a candy bar and lukewarm water from my camelbak), another set of birds shows up. They pass about 60 yards from my blind on the wrong side of the fence, walking parallel to it. I begin calling and each time they look up, but are only half interested. I think it is the 2 Amigos, but I am not sure. This time, they cross under the fence, walking within 5 feet of where I was set up at dawn. I laugh to myself that if we had both stayed put, we'd both have tagged gobblers. He proceeds to cross into my field, eyeing my decoys. He is walking toward my friend, who had just done the ever-accurate estimation of range by holding his hand up and counting fingers between the blind and the bird and estimated the he was 60 yards from me. He hoped the bird would continue in a straight line and he'd shoot it. About this time, I realized the bird had come as close as he was going to get and decided to shoot. The bird dropped like a sack of potatoes and lay still in the sun. A range finder confirmed the distance at 54.5 yards, a full 6 inches closer than my first bird of the season. I debated whether this was an ambush or a bird I called in. It was sort of a combination. I got him to change direction and cross into my field when it appeared he didn't want to. Then again, he hadn't exactly strutted up to my decoys so I don't know what to call this kill.