I left the house at 3:30 because I have to drive a long way to hunt, and I wanted to get to my listening post under the cover of darkness. I got in there early, as the eastern sky was just beginning to show light. As I approached, I tried to mimic a deer walking, in order not to sound unnatural, and stir anything up unnecessarily.
As I got to the place on the property line where I was to turn to ease down to the creek, I slowed way down and began to sneak my way about halfway down the hill where I’d decided to listen. As the sky was just starting to lighten up in the east (the direction I was headed), I was carefully scanning the open and not yet leafed out hardwoods for anything that resembled a turkey. And sure enough, I saw som sort of clump in a tree just ahead of me at the 2 o’clock position. So, I eased my way forward just a few more steps to get a better look at it. And as I got a clearer look at the silhouetted shape, I knew that it was either an owl, or a turkey with its head under its wing. So I halted right there - about 50 yards from the figure on the oak tree limb.
At this point, my CZ was slung over my left shoulder, and my mouth calls were in the cargo pocket on my left leg. And thinking that there was a good chance that this silhouetted fowl was a turkey, I was not ready to do anything that might alert it to my presence this early in the game. Over time, I’ve developed a lot of respect for the eyes and ears of a turkey, and I was definitely in the danger zone. So, I froze.
As I stood there watching the silhouette, the sky gradually lightened, and I heard a hen yelp about 50 yards to my left at 10 o’clock. And at that point, the silhouette at 2 o’clock stood up and started preening. And I got a positive ID – a turkey. So, I had at least 2 turkeys within 50 yards of me, one on the right, and one on the left, and I had no idea whether or not there were more. So, I knew I had to at least get my gun off my shoulder, just in case. And so then I slowly worked my right hand over to the grip of my 28, and eased my left hand up to slip the sling off my shoulder – and slowly worked the gun around to get the butt under my right arm and ready for action if needed as it got lighter. I had no calls out, and I knew I couldn’t risk any unnecessary movement under the present circumstances. And I’d called enough with bare lips to know that I would be fine giving some soft yelps if need be.
As I sat there considering my options, I knew I didn’t want to remain frozen and pinned down in that spot if there were no gobblers around. So, I was about to do an owl hoot when suddenly, directly in front of me at 12 o’clock, and no more than 30-35 yards away, he gobbled. There was a gobbler roosted right there in front of me, between the two hens, and behind two large trees where I couldn’t see him and he couldn’t see me. Now, I chuckled to myself, and thought, this is going to be interesting. Here I was, stuck in the middle of two hens no more than 50 yards away, with a gobbler. So, I started working him. I yelped softly to him. And I really wanted to watch and see what he was doing on the limb, so I tried to lean my head to the left and then to my right, but the two trees were so perfectly placed between us, that try as I might, I could not see him. And no way was I going to move a muscle to do anything more than that.
He gobbled 5 more times, while both hens preened. And I continued to do occasional soft, bare lipped yelps to let him know I wanted him. And by now it was light enough where I could see both hens, and I kept switching my eyes from one to the other, as I wanted some warning when they were about to fly down. Then all of a sudden, while I was watching the hen at 2 o’clock, I heard all sorts of racket from where the gobbler was – a limb broke and I heard something go through branches, and it sounded like something fell into the creek below. So, I turned my eyes, but saw nothing - nothing at all.
So now, I thought the gobbler had flown down. But I didn’t know where he went, or whether he went anywhere. I figured he most likely flew out across the creek into the bottom, but hoped he had just dropped down onto the hill somewhere. I had already checked to my left and to my right for any possible obstructions to me swinging the gun left or right. I was fine unless the scenario arose where I’d have to swing more to my left past 3 o’clock, where a beech sapling stood. And so I hoped, and listened for his next gobble to find out where he went, and then decide whether I was going to bust the hens off the roost, or do something else.
And I called some more, with bare lips. And I didn’t dare move.
After about two minutes of silence after he flew down, I began to think he must be up on the hill with me (and his hens) somewhere. Because surely, if he’d flow away from his hens out into the bottom, I would expect he’d have gobbled for them by now. Then suddenly, at 3 o’clock to my left, he gobbled. He had flown down in front of me below the crest of the slope where I couldn’t see him, and walked back up and around outside of my peripheral vision, past and then under the hen that was roosted there, and towards me. I glanced over towards the gobble, and there he was, in full strut. He was right behind a small tree, with his fan showing on both sides of it, about 35 yards away. So, I eased my gun up to the sapling and leaned slightly to my right so I could put the bead on him. And as I did that, he saw me. He stuck his head to the right to get a good look at me, and I knew the gig was up. So, I let the fat lady sing. And his two hens got out of dodge in a hurry, while he flopped.
He was a fairly large bird, 21.42 lbs, with a 10-3/4” beard, and interesting, sharp, curved, but only 5/8” flesh colored spurs. And it was reinforced to me that it pays to use caution, and to learn how to call without a call.
