Daylight had me face off with a pasture gobbler. He won. At 11:00, I ran into a silent tom. He won. About 3:30 p.m., and after miles under the boots and a nap under a pine tree, I finally happened into two strutters in a huge greenfield about 200 yards across. Two hens were leading them away from me and I figured it was a lost cause. I said what the hell and laid down some heavy yelping and fight purr action. The gobblers turned around and immediately closed 60 yards. One of them, the watcher, had that perk-headed "wooah woah, what's that over there look". Boom, I thought, here we go.
They kept on marching, feathering sheening bronze in the mid afternoon sun and heads blaze red and white, to almost mid field when one of the hens started sassing them. Said hen then ran in front of them, planted on the ground, and then satiated the desire of the dominant bird of the duo.
Right there in front of the world. No shame whatsoever.Irritated, I upped the tempo and of course the scarlet lady proceeded to lead both toms across the field and into the woods.
Even the ole boy who only got to watch was on a string.
I guess watching was just his thing. 
But anyways, while this was happening, I noticed a turkey in the background on the hillside about 220 yards away and right above the greenfield. It eventually went into full strut. I could tell it was a big gobbler but he would just not come into the greenfield. The whole episode above took ten minutes but old subby stayed right there on that hillside displaying for me, even when the other turkeys left. After the other turkeys left, I figured he would mosey on down to me. Nope. He wasn't budging. I gave him 15/20 minutes to come whisk me away but this guy was not about to get his butt whooped again, no matter what I was promising. And I promised a lot.
The whole time he stood planted like a mounted deke. Well, ya know, that did not sit right with me. Not right at all. Because, ya know, I had told myself that I was killing a turkey that day. Finally, I said to hell with it. If he wouldn't come to me, then I would go to him. I made a loud call sequence to keep him locked in place and then quickly made a huge circle to the top of his hill. Once there, I shouldered my gun and started marching right over the summit. As I was cresting the summit, Ol' Subby found himself 40 yards away and exactly where I had left him. Unfortunately, he also found himself in the center circle of my Nikon turkey pro.
Needless to say, he won't have to worry about getting his tail whooped again.A quick examination revealed the cause of his uber passive disposition. In place of the spur on one leg was a large flat scale and on the other a tiny black nub. In his defense, it would have been like taking a pillow to a gun fight.
