Shoot - Scooooooooore!
The second day of turkey season started with a 4:00 a.m.wakeup, plenty of hot coffee, the climb to the lower ridges of Tussey Mountains and then I settled down beside a tree by 5:15 a.m. I decided to return to the bench where on Saturday I had posted my buddy Regis. He had a great morning, saw plenty of turkeys, but left the woods empty handed.
When I began my hike into the woods, the stars were visible and the night sky looked clear, but 15-minutes into my wait for daybreak it started to rain. Not hard but enough to make your shoulders and knees damp. Rats – my rain gear was at home so I started making plans to keep dry. It was 5:40 a.m. and I was stuck on the mountain in the rain. I was about to get really depressed when a turkey across the bench gobbled.
Forget the rain the hunt was on!
After 20-minutes of silence the rain stopped and other turkeys started to gobble and a hen below me started to yelp. I made a tree call and got an answer, but when the gobbler left the tree he sailed off the bench into the hollow. He gobbled from below and I turned up the volume and called back. The hen joined in so I challenged her too. All the players seemed to hold their ground.
Across the mountain [150-yards away] several more toms gobbled and began to get cranked up so I got more aggressive too. At one point, I think four gobblers, the hen and me were all calling. Things got loud – no timid calling here. I noticed that the turkeys across the mountain were drifting toward the bench.
I stopped calling because those gobblers had made a decision, and I wanted to see their hand before I made another call.
The two toms gobbled back to back just over the lip of the bench about 75-yards from my damp seat next to the white oak. I called immediately and they both shot back and it seemed louder or perhaps it was my blood pressure amplifying the sound!
The bench was like a well groomed park – big, well spaced oak and white pine and very little underbrush. When those turkeys came over the edge of the bench, they could see everything and they expected the hen [me] to come to them. They planted their feet and would not move an inch more. The dominant bird would flare his tail, spit and drum [sounds like “fit – hummm”] and the other would gobble then the dominant bird would gobble also.
I was into a classic problem hunt – you can see them – they can see where the hen should be and they were not going a step further.
Standoff – so I did the standard calls and tricks. I purred softly – their response - gobble, spit, drum and gobble. I clucked softly – response – gobble, spit, drum and gobble. I scratched in the leaves to mimic the sound of a hen feeding nearby but unseen – same response. If I did nothing they repeated their standard response. For 25- minutes the standoff continued.
I could tell from their body language that they were about to make a major decision and if they left the bench I was sunk. So I waited until they started their call sequence and I started cutting like a “wet hen.” When they stopped so did I. I was hoping that calling in the middle of their sounds would mask my exact location. It worked.
The “looker” escort broke ranks first and started toward me and a little to my right, followed by “big boy” and another jake that was out of my sight and now part of the group closing the distance.
I shifted my gun and body to a point were I was aiming were they would pass within range. It was too open to chance following their progress with my gun. Now I was looking over the scope and trying to watch three heads as they came forward at a steady walk.
The first gobbler stopped within range and started to crane his neck and examine every inch of the forest where the wet hen sounded off. He was beautiful – full grown – nice beard and unaware of my location. The other two were still coming from my left and I could see them out of the corner of my eye.
After 35-years of turkey hunting, you can see the potential problem about to develop. In about 60-seconds, I would have three sets of eyes looking for trouble, and my ability to move, aim and shoot would be a quick draw option that I usually lose. I made my decision.
The lead gobbler passed behind a tree, I dropped my cheek to the gun stock, the safety came off, my view of the turkey was now through the scope and the crosshairs were centered on the gobbler’s head. I forgot about the other two turkeys, aimed again and squeezed off the shot.
I heard the other gobblers exit the bench putting and running down the ridge, but I kept my eyes on the downed bird with another shell in the chamber. No need to worry. This hunt was over.
I thanked the Lord for his goodness, got up and stepped off the distance to where the gobbler lay.
Thirty steps.
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Comments
Congrats!!
Good job Mr.York. Great story and pictures I enjoyed it very much. He should taste great! I haven't been sucessful yet the birds I've been hunting are all henned up and no matter what I do I can't lure a gobbler away or get the hens to come in. I'll keep trying eventually I find that lonesome gobbler out there. It's been a true test of ones patence.
JD
double congrats
what a great rendition of your adventure...I felt like I was standing there with you...my heart was pounding! You shoudl submit it to Field&Stream or something....it really is a great story, with obviosu positive results! (of course the GIRL in me thinks 'poor birdie was just looking for a date, hahaha)
He is a beautiful bird!
Thanks Jess
Don't fret about tom, he will make a great meal!
Gobbler Lure
Keep at it, yesterday's tough tom is tomorrow's suicide charge.
Many days without success, I have hunted the same bird until one day the calls he ignored yesterday were suddenly the sweetest sounds he ever heard - and some of the last I may add.
Wow
Very nice!!
Do you eat your turkeys or do you stuff 'eM?
Eat or Stuff?
Both options are good.
Eat: I cleaned the bird and gave the breast meat to a friend. Old gobblers are plenty tough and you need good teeth to eat the legs and wings so only the breast is worth cooking.
Stuff: Years ago Bob Bizak - Southcentral Taxidermy - Huntingdon did a great full mount of a turkey for me. For years it was perched on a limb attached to the wall of our living room. Then one day it magically moved to the attic. The next move was to the Raystown Lake Visitor Center at Seven Points. Last time I was there it was still perched on that limb. Looks good too!
Cook those legs down
After breasting out the bird have you tried boiling the legs, wings and the rest of the bird for broth. We do this with pheasants and it makes for some good soup.
Clay hardens by immobility – men's minds by standing pat. Both lose the power to take new impressions. (Pinchot 1910: 138)
Oh my - this ain't no butterball
Reared on bugs, nuts, seeds and grit - running for his life each day - sleeping in a tree during the worst winter storms - these birds give new meaning to the word tough! Pressure cooked, boiled and microwaved - maybe???