Finally!
After consistently filling tags for 10+ years, last year I caught the drought bug, which lasted into this season until this morning. Saw a huge bird, with a 10+ beard and long spurs, last evening near one of my hunting spots. This morning I was awake and ready to go by 4am, even though it's only a 5 minute ride from the house.
I pull in at 4:15, and sift through my gear in my truck. Dressed and on top of the highest knoll by 4:35. Owl hooted twice and had one bird, far-far away, respond once. Waited for the birds to sound off until legal light (4:59), and decided to sit on a broken field edge, where I had called in a jake last week and had worked a gobbler till noon on Saturday.
Hunkered down next to a nice ash which was still in spring bloom, lit up the Thermocell, and listened for the woods to awake. The morning was nothing special---no gobbles to be heard at all. Watched some deer work a fenceline, and listened to the wood thrushes and Baltimore Orioles sing, as both have recently returned from the winter hiatus. Hit the slate and mouthcall every 5-10 minutes, hoping to elicit something from somewhere. 6:15 I hear one shot, a ways off in the distance, so I concluded that the birds were indeed still in the woods and hadn't vanished overnight.
About 7:00 and I decided to cutt and purr, hoping something was nearby. I wasn't disappointed, although the lone gobble was probably 1/4 mile away, but directly infront of my position. I called to respond, waited for 5 minutes, then let out another series of yelps. The sun finally broke through the hanging low cloud cover, and the bird let out his second gobble, decidely closer. I hammered right back at him with some heated yelps and clucks, at which he double gobbled.
I stayed quiet, and at 7:10 I saw his white snowball crown working its way across a small brook to a rise opposite my tree. He broke over the rise and went into strut, gobbled, and easily crossed through the barbed wire fence 80 yards away. He worked himself into a frenzy, tetering back & forth between double gobbles and full fan, strutting between a few wild roses and remnant glacial boulders.
The suspense was too much for him, and he picked his way in the next 40 yards, until my Ithaca burped and met him with a load of Winchester X-tended #6s. Walked off 43 paces, he dropped like a sack of bricks. Would have let him come in even closer, but then again why spend the money on a 50 yard gun to not use the longer range---and the fact I had a scheduled surgery at 9am
Not the biggest, but a nice heavy 2-year old that weighed 22#, 8.5" beard, with matching 3/4 inch spurs.
Off the snide!
