Well two seasons had passed since I had bagged my last bird. I had a few conversations with birds and had two people miss birds, I had called in. Last year I thought the male birds had come out the closet and were living the alternative life style. I seen plenty of birds but they were not responsive or cooperative. Weather and hunting pressure I feel were the greatest problems we faced.
It had been cold and raining all week and Friday night at 11:00pm the rain was still coming down. When 4:00am Saturday rolled around the rain had stopped and the northeaster we were experiencing was getting ready to leave for the New England states.
I set out to hunt a new farm but found a tractor blocking the path. I had permission but didn't exactly know why the tractor was parked there. So I took off across the county to another farm. I still had time to beat the sun. Well, what do you know raod closed due to high water. Now a minor detour was in the works. What do ya know, another road closed and another definition of road rage was starting to set in. I went around the signs to investigate. I was able to see the yellow line in the road so I knew there would be no problem getting through. Saved me a 12 mile detour and let me beat the sun.
Well it was near 40 degrees and time was now on my side. I went and sat in a new cutover of thinned pines with hope the roosted birds would fly down from the tall timber and travel through the thinned pines.
It began to get light and the the dark clouds were moving along with the cool breeze. All the birds were coming to life and two deer moved within 50 yards to go lay down. No turkeys were to be heard. They were gobbling the weekend before, but the weather was considerably warmer. I tried some random calling to make something happen and nothing. So about 7:30 I decided to cross the road and travel along the edge of an enormous wheat field.
The wheat was a few inches tall and ran along the edge of a flooded logged out swamp. (How they got away with logging the wet lands I don't know.) The timber along the the wheat field was a one year clear cut strip.
The turkeys had to be on high ground and hopefully on my side of the vacant swamp. I walked for a while and would periodicly call. Nothing. I went sat down on a tall pile of logs and view the cutover and swamp and the wheat field with my binoculars. I was thinking this was going to be another one of those days. The sun was now starting to come out and I spotted a lone hen about 500yds in the wheat field. I wathced her disappear in a bottom, in this massive field. Then I thought I heard a gobble. With the 10 to 15 mph wind I couldn't tell where it came from. I hit my box call and a few seconds later I heard the gobble again. It was beyond the hen on my side of the swamp.
I started down the edge of the field to close the distance and get better course on the gobbler. I then ran into the hen. I watched her for a while and she wondered on in the woods. I was hoping she wasn't headed for the gobbler.
I heard him gobble again and I closed in more on him. I had to then shed my insulated bibbs and set up the decoy for the ambush. I called once more and he responded about 250 yards out. I decided then to leave the decoy about 60 yards from the end of the field and get between the turkey and the decoy, at the edge of the field. I called once more and he responded about 100 yards in the tall timber, that I did not have permission to hunt. I then gave him some purrs and clucks and then shut up on him.
Five minutes later he hit the field ready to impress my decoy. I watched his show which was full strut and some drumming. I watched and waited for him to get along side of me on his way to the decoy. I then gave him a couple of putts to break his strut and a load of #5's to break his neck.
What a hunt! I wish I had that on video, it would have been text book material. But, it will be forever visioned in my mind.
Dinner Sunday evening was unforgetable too. It just goes to show persistance and patience will pay off. Come on Saturday I'm ready for another day in the woods.
