It is turkey season yet?  Believe it or not, in some parts of the country turkey season opens in just over a month.  This is the time to practice calling, find places to hunt, and get your gear in order.  I am going on 2 hunts in April and May, in 2 separate states.  Here is one more turkey hunt from days gone by to get you through the winter.  Think Spring!

As I was setting up the blind, something in the pre-dawn light caught my eye.  It was a very large black bear glaring at us from a mere forty paces.  I was with my father on the first day of his retirement.  It was Memorial Day weekend and I was helping move my parents to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.   We spent the night in Iron Mountain and planned to get up with my wife and kids in the morning to complete the trip to Iron River.   My dad was not planning on doing any turkey hunting this trip; all of his hunting equipment was at the new house.  After some tough convincing, borrowed gun, camouflage, and ammo, we were off in search of late season turkey. 

            This would be our only opportunity to hunt this year.  I have had success calling turkeys in the past, but I have never had the chance to try for my dad.  The goal of the morning was to get him a shot.  I was going to set up behind him thirty or forty yards; if a turkey hung up out of range for me, it might still be in range for him.   

            The bear was down wind of us.  This made me nervous, he can smell us, and is not running away.  After a few anxious moments passed the sun crept through the cedar swamp. The bear did not like what he saw and ran off.  We thought that was pretty exciting and did not realize we were in for another treat. 

I have hunted this property before and after we heard the first few minutes of gobbling, I knew where the birds were and what we should do.   As we made our quarter mile hike down the old logging road, we listened intently for gobbling.  We soon zeroed in on a single gobbler.  He was in an area I have called and killed birds before.  I was excited, but cautious.  I did not want to call and let him know where we were; I wanted to be set up and ready for him.  We approached the opening along the road where I wanted to set up.  We listened for him to gobble again.  When he did, he was right were I wanted him and I knew it was safe to walk out in the road and set the decoy.  I instructed my dad to hide in an evergreen fifteen paces from the decoy.  I set up fifty yards from the decoy in an effort to pull the bird in range for him.

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            My first few yelps were answered immediately. I waited a couple minutes and started cutting aggressively.  He responded with authority several times.  I again waited and he gobbled on his own, this time much closer.  I still waited a minute to respond (I was playing hard to get).  I did another series of serious cutting, which was affectionately answered by numerous gobbles.  He was within seventy yards and I soon realized he was circling behind us.  I was worried; we were not set up for that approach.  I decided not to call again.  He was too close and might pick me out.  Just then I thought I saw movement by the decoy, which was in the opposite direction from the gobbling bird.  I moved my head slowly to get a better look.  There was five to eight jakes all over the decoy. 

            This was late season and we had already decided we would kill any legal bird.  We had also decided he would shoot first; in the unlikely event we had multiple birds in front of us.  I quickly got on a bird, hoping it was not the same one my dad picked out.  I waited…and waited…dad did not shoot.  I could not believe it; some of these birds were within twelve yards of him.  I was wondering if he was sleeping.  After about two minutes of this, one of the birds spooked.  They all started separating and moving towards cover.  I trained my bead on three separate birds as they walked out of my shooting lane.  There was only one bird left I could see.  I decided to shoot.  I was not going to let that many birds be in our decoys without one of us shooting.  It was a forty eight-yard shot so I took careful aim.  At the shot my bird went down.  The gobbler that was coming in behind us flushed five yards behind me.  I stood to see a nice beard hanging from the large bird as he struggled to become airborne.  

I ran out to my dad to see why he didn’t shoot, when I saw two birds flopping twenty yards apart.  We were both confused.  We only heard one shot; we both shot at the same instant.  The birds had surprised my dad and his gun was across his lap.  When he finally took the chance to move the birds spooked, forcing us to shoot at the same time.  As the birds were still flopping, I walked up to my father and shook his hand and said “happy retirement.”  The smile and excitement in his face is something that will stay with me forever.