Last week I was fortunate enough to coax a giant strutter into kill range during the first couple days of my trip to Kansas. This enabled me to purchase another tag and put more meat in my freezer back home in Wisconsin.

David Schotte, the owner of Blue River Whitetails and I premeditated an all out turkey blitz. During our first day’s hunt we fixed our eyes upon an absolute monster of a tom. The bird mirrored a 30-pound bowling ball and sported a beard that could’ve easily made two paintbrushes! It was the biggest bird I’ve ever seen in my life and one of the largest Schotte has ever hunted.

We dealt with a major problem though. Goliath roosted with a flock of other birds. He’d always escort a handful of hens during fly-up and fly-down. He also bossed around four other mature gobblers. It was as if he was crowned king of the flock.  We had to take in account that the gobbler pulled some serious baggage around. More turkeys means more eyes, greater odds of being picked-off, and a slim chance of calling the bird in. Our plan was quite simple. We’d pop my Covert hunting blind along the woods facing the field within shooting distance of the turkey’s landing strip. The bagging of this bird would require a lot of dumb luck. We would have to defeat the flock of fifteen before killing the king. The gobbler had to fly down near the Covert blind so I’d be able to toss up my shotgun through the window and fire. We also had to be super stealthy so the birds wouldn’t hear us in the morning when we opened up the blind and walked into the setup.

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 The morning of my hunt to kill the largest turkey in Kansas couldn’t come any sooner. I swear I woke up with fire in my eyes and an overwhelming sense of anticipation. We arrived at Schotte’s extra early. It was critical that we arrived extra early so the sky was completely black and the birds were sound asleep. Schotte, my field producer and me tiptoed through the corn stubble field as quiet as we could. Subtle step-by-step crunches marked our arrival en route to the landing pad of all the birds. All three of us silently opened the blind and walked it toward the woods-edge. The field producer and I huddled into the blind while Schotte took my Hooyman folding tree saw and noiselessly zipped a few small shrubs. He laid them in front of the blind to break up its outline. It’s important to always carry a quality saw during your adventures. They come in handy more than you may realize.

The sky slowly transitioned from coal black to light blue. I slipped on my gloves and pulled up my Breath-Taker facemask to cover the rest of my visible skin. I’ve learned that it’s so essential wearing dark when hunting in a blind. The stars soon vanished, horizon ignited with red, and the birds woke one-by-one. The morning silence shattered with gobbles storming from limbs. Every bird was roosted within eighty-yards of the blind. I whispered to the video camera, as the mornings show unraveled. During my brief recap a hen pitched into the field no more than twenty-yards from the blind. I grabbed my shotgun and lifted it to the open window. Another hen landed and it was only time until the giant tumbled his way down to the ground. Both hens started acting nervous. They tossed up their head and began an alarm putt. My jaw nearly hit the ground and all of my hope shredded as a coyote walked toward the birds. It was game over within a moment. Every bird flew the opposite way into another field. As the sounds of the last gobbler flew from atop the tree, Schotte hustled me to the backfield. The stalk was on.

We jumped a creek and followed a deer trail up a bank, which led to where the birds may cross. I positioned myself behind a thick briar bush in the shade. My eyes focused down the end of my barrel. The sound of a gobble reassured that we not only we were setup in the perfect, but the timing couldn’t have been any better. A glowing fantail arose from the steep bank. The sun glimmered on the beautiful bird as he walked our way down the trail. I took a glimpse at his beard and realized it wasn’t the mega-beard, but that was fine with me. A few yelps from Schotte’s slate call deflated the bird out of strut. He picked his head up and I blasted a shot. The bird hit the ground and so did I! The amazing turn of events shook me up. I went from a serious low to an all time high within minutes.

The hunt was successful thanks to Schotte’s keen understanding and awareness of the landscape. We were able to use the terrain to our advantage. The hunt had to be one of my most memorable. Even though the tubby-tom gets to live another year, I still had a pulsing adrenaline rush. On the bright side of things, he will only grow bigger! I look forward to coming back next year and setting my sights on the colossal bird.