I am not one to get fixated on one gobbler.. I have always felt the grass was greener and am convinced there is always another bird out there that can be worked.. A turkey is a turkey..
Spring of 2010 found me with a gobbler that should have been treated as though he had the plague but gripped my soul and thoughts like a drug head with narcotics..
I first encountered this gobbler with my good friends Karl and Jim.. Some may remember stories from the other forum of these two.. Both are in their 80s and due to hip reasons cannot walk very far.. I typically save some properties whereas little walking is required or I can drive the vehicle drop them off and come back and call.. It is very difficult for me to hunt in this matter but has proven successful.
One beautiful spring morning I dropped these two off in the red shaded area in the map.. I came back, set up.. And after an hour of blind calling received what I believed was a gobble well to the south in the cornfield on the neighbors to the south.. I called again and it confirmed my suspicions. With neither hunter having great hearing I had to give the signal that we were in business, or so I thought.. A few minutes later the gobbler revealed himself displaying in the cornfield.. With every call and every step he took you could see his neck straighten out and gobble.. It took maybe 10 minutes but he eventually walked gobbling every step to somwhere in the vicinity of the green shaded area where he remained gobbling for an hour before eventually shutting up.. I was dumbfounded.
Shortly after we moved on only to find us in the same spot the next day.. Upon dropping them off and getting back my first string of yelps was greeted with a gobble from the green shaded area.. The gobbler power gobbled every step following the green line to where it stopped proceeding to pound and eventually turning and walking off every single step.. Well day 2 goes to the SOB... Needless to say we found some other birds and they filled their tags..
Well my season opened a few days later and I would be back.. I decided to try him first thing and once again set up in the red shaded area.. I knew a move was in order but with the slight rise in the red shaded area and with just enough trees and grass it had been the demise of gobblers in the past.. That morning sure as could be he was roosted 75 yards across the line (red line) to the west.. He gobbled wildly and pitched down to the green shaded area.. He gobbled forever seemingly henless.. My calls once again brought him down the neon green line where he stopped and gobbled before turning gobbling the other way..
I was convinced I could kill him mid day.. If I took the gamble and slithered through the grassy area W of the green shaded area to the little corner of hardwoods on the line.. This was a huge risk in that if the bird was in the open hardwoods to the W with the slight rise he would catch my movement as I snaked to the hardwoods.. I let the woods calm down and let out some soft yelps "Garrrrrrrrobbbbbbbbbble" He was in the green shaded area.. Waited a few seconds hit him again "Garrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrobbbbbbbbble" at half the distance.. I was confident he would die as I had gotten into his comfort zone which I could not do in the days prior.. He gobbled every stinkin step until he hit a wall.. At this time he was most likely 50 yards away as I could hear his wing tips dragging and Spit Vrooooooooooooom... What I did not realize was a small strip of poplar whips which hindered he from seeing me and I seeing him.. The bird than proceeded to turn around and gobble every step out to the green shaded area.. I was in absolute shock..
On this day he took over my every thought. Despite what I figured was a full proof plan and an eager Gobbler he had foiled my best attempt.. I quit hunting other birds when I was by myself, I would go and work this bird 2-3 times a day.. I am fully convinced if that darned angel on one shoulder would have not quieted the devil on the other on any day I could have hammered this bird with yelping on my side of the fence, slipped over the line 50 yards and killed him.. There was something deep down on this one telling me to play by the rules.
Evenings typically found this bird strutting in the blue shaded area south of the line, sometimes with hens but more times without.. I could work this bird into a panic where he would double and triple gobble on end when I quit calling.. One evening I finally broke him out of the field.. I was quiet and him convinced to cross the line, when at that time the neighbor convienently drove the property line.. Another evening found him strutting in the blue area while I had two live hens within 20 yards of the red shaded area yelping and cutting as they picked grasshoppers, he would not break..
A couple mornings found me snugged up to the W line only to have him come up to whatever the hell the "force field" was and walk away gobbling.. One morning in particular he roosted exceptionally close to the line.. I watched him in the tree as he spit and drummed and than filled the morning air with gobbles.. I made not a peep and finally anticipated him flying down in the open hardwoods in front of me.. I was once again fooled as pitched through the trees dodging limbs to land in the green shaded area..
I do not know how many times I worked this particular bird.. To avoid redundant typing I must say From a calling standpoint on different hunts I gave him everything I had from silence with scratching, subtle yelps-clucks-purrs to obnoxious yelping and cutting and even on some hunts I would gobble at him.. Each and every hunt was almost a carbon copy of the hunt before as I could depend on him regardless to be in the green shaded area, follow the green line gobbling, only to stop and gobble back out.. I became so convinced he was in the green shaded area after flydown to early afternoon, I no longer feared walking through the open area to the W line.
Sal could not quit laughing at how this gobbler consumed me and was kicking my ass.. Days that others could hunt and we hunted elsewhere and were successful was all that kept my spirits up, yet my mind was still back in that little corner of the property. MKW got the daily play by play with a bunch of &%&$ type language thrown in.. I finally broke my trance, came to my senses, accepted defeat and moved on.. I convinced myself I was a victim of the property line.. I still do not know to this day what was 50 yards over the line that impeded his final few steps or whether he somehow had a commanding view from that spot.. I have never had a gobbler so close so many times to have the only sightings be long distance in the field with binoculars.. Had I never seen him I would swear a friend was playing a cruel joke that involved a gobble shaker.
Other gobblers in the past have gotten under my skin.. But if I put this much effort in them, sooner or later myself or a buddy would be looking down the gun barrel at them when they were ready.. Problem being this bird was always ready, yet would not cross the force field that existed just over the line.
I did take a friend there in the closing days of the season.. He never gobbled, I hope he got ate by a bobcat
