I’d been thinking about how to get my Rio Grande gobbler all week. Turkey hunting isn’t quite the same game when you’re mobility impaired. You have to do all the figuring before you set up since you can’t go chasing them around through the woods. But after ten years hunting turkeys I was getting really good at it, and really good at how to get close to them.

Now with a cold front bearing down on Texas that was supposed to bring rain and sleet by the weekend, I knew Friday had to be the day.

That was today, and we rolled out of bed and into one of those mornings where everything just seemed to go right. My friend Reid came with me this morning to help me on the hunt, and it was his first turkey hunt so I knew he was probably as excited as I was. We arrived at the Krenek Ranch, about 45 minutes before shooting time, under a bright moon and clear, cool skies. The wind lay still. Just the way I like it.

From what I saw from this bird last Sunday, I knew he was an older tom that wasn’t going to be fooled easily. He was a cautious ol' boy. When he came out last time, he hung back and wouldn’t come in to my decoys or follow the hen out into the field. Today, I was going to try to use those tendencies against him.

There was one big oak right smack in the middle of the entrance between the small area where he appeared last time and the big field that the hen eventually fed into. That’s where we’d sit. I had Reid run out a few decoys off to our left, far enough to be almost out of my gun swinging range. If that tom came in and shied away from my spread again, he’d have to pass by me to enter the field. Or so I thought anyway.

It never ceases to amaze me when I get out on a moonlit countryside in the dark before a hunt begins. All the hunters out there know what I’m talking about. Under a full moon, it seems like you don’t need headlights sometimes to see where you’re going. Well, when I shut the door of my truck, a gobble erupted from close behind in the trees. Reid and I froze, looked at each other and nodded. We both knew it might happen fast this morning.

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As Reid moved the truck out of sight, a lone whippoorwill sang in the shadow of the woods. Gobblers also started firing up. Every time an owl hooted or a cow mooed, an tom’s anxious answer burst out. And one of them was close, really close. I only hoped it was the same one from last week. I wanted him bad. You’ll see why in a few minutes.

About ten minutes before shooting time, I gave two light calls from a box call. Just enough for him to know I was there and no more. After that, I put it away for good. If he did come in again, he’d be right on top of us and I wouldn’t be able to move.

Twenty minutes later, a hen flew down to the clearing in front of us. Reid and I sat motionless in the yaupon bushes that surrounded the oak’s trunk, waiting, watching. A few minutes later, we heard wing beats. Bingo! There he was. He hit the ground strutting. It was still dim but I knew it was him. Right away he spotted the decoys and headed toward them. Again he stopped halfway and started back toward the hen. Meanwhile, she was heading around to my right. It was about to happen.

As this was Reid’s first turkey hunt, I wanted him to watch the show for as long as he could, which was very hard for me to do with this one. Why, you ask? Well, this bird was special. When I got a good look at him last time, I noticed he had had a thick red beard flowing from his chest. That’s why. And since I’d never seen a red bearded tom before, I was getting a little impatient.

The tom strutted and drummed out there as he passed in front of us, stopping once and let out a gobble right in our faces.

When he started out to my right, I had to act. I slowly raised and settled on his neck. He was 35 yards away when he spotted me and spun around toward the woods. But it was too late. I was on him and put him down with a one pull of the trigger.

We spent the next hour admiring this magnificent bird. A 10 inch red beard and 1 and ¼ inch spurs meant he was at least four year old. That’s big for a Rio. Heck, that’s big for any species.