I have been hunting turkeys hard for the last four years, and on May 1st, 2004, I shot my first gobbler. I would like to say that all the hard work I put in pounding ground, researching calls and behavior, all paid off in the end...but here's the story, I'll let you decide
My stepfather (Blake) and I had been hunting sun up to sun down, for two days, always coming back to the same piece of ground. We (I should say he) had deduced where a majority of the toms in the area where roosting, and where and when they had been flying down. The problem we had was with a fickle wind and rain. The birds were not behaving as predictably as we would have liked, and were flying down late, or taking shelter in thick timber to stave off the cold and wet conditions.
Saturday morning promised to be relatively dry and mildly warm. We had arrived at our hunting destination around 5:15am, when it came to my attention that I had forgotten a few important items, namely my turkey loads, and hunting license/tag I told my stepfather that, I must have planned on hurling my Mossberg shotgun at the birds. Whether it was the lack of adequate sleep, limited coffee consumption that morning or whatever, I was making a mad dash back to the house, some 15 miles away.
After getting my gear in order, I somehow managed to get back around 5:50, I may have had a slight lead foot, I dont exactly recall. At this point I had given up any glimmer of hope I might have had at tagging a tom that morning. No longer was I able to sneak in under the cover of darkness, and the grass underfoot had dried considerably from the previous days rain. However, I still kept to my plan that I had decided on only minutes before we had first arrived.
I quickly setup alongside a brushy East-West fence-line, next to an open gate where we had heard a couple gobblers the previous morning. I placed a solitary sceery hen decoy just inside of the gate to the North, and two others maybe 20 yds away on the south side. The path from the gate led south up a slight incline, to an open field ridge we suspected was a hot strutting zone. My plan was to lure hot toms from the timber to the North and East, and to persuade gobblers to close the distance, should they stray in from the South open field.
I figured my best odds came from the East and South at this point, as I had likely made too much noise or had been spotted when I made my grand entrance following the fence line from the West. I let out a few soft yelps only once, using a Primos slate call (The Freak w/frictionite). The hens in this area had not been particularly vocal. As luck would have it, half an hour later I espied three big toms and five hens to the East, slowly making their way West towards me, just on the North side of the open field ridge. My spirits could not have been more lifted at this point. The time was approximately 6:30 am.
The game was afoot, as all three toms never left full strut as they slowly paraded towards the two sceery hen decoys I had setup. With eight sets of eyes looking in my general direction, I dare not make any sudden movements. The toms closed to within 45-50 yds of my position, and were loathe to come any closer. I figured this was my best chance, as the toms must have expected the hens I had setup to flock to them. Unfortunately the toms had moved to an area on the inside of the ridge, that I had not anticipated there were a series of overhanging branches I had been using as partial cover, that now obstructed my shot. For some reason or another, the toms pivoted away to the East for a few moments, which allowed me just enough time to slowly rotate and reposition my gun between the limbs for an open shot. I waited a few seconds for a broadside shot at the head and neck of the lead tom it was now or never. I will never forget the rush of adrenaline I felt as my gun belched and the lead gobbler went down hard, in a flail of limbs and feathers, while his harem and brothers scattered to the wind. Wow. What an exciting moment!
when i finally caught up to my dad and the bird my dad was so out of breath but still had enough energy to tackle me and scream "HELL YEAH THAT'S MY BOY". the bird it's self wasn't much but it was my first. the bird weighed 15 pounds and we had to part the feathers to find the 1 1/2 beard on it
