After years of trying, I finally got a small place with permission to occasionally hunt close enough to hit the woods before work. In fact, I can be in the woods till 7:30 and still get to work about 8:00.
This past weekend my son and I had a look at the property and saw some good sign as well as two different hens. It looked promising.
So this morning I decided to give it a go.
I got there in plenty of time and enjoyed the breaking of a beautiful day. It was a very good day for gobbling. But flydown time came and went with nary a gobble to be heard.
So, I set up in some open pines in the edge of the woods and went to calling. After a half hour or so, with no action, and time clicking away, I decided to get up and move deeper in the woods through some thick 10 year old pines and hardwood saplings. I hadn't moved 20 yards when I heard a gobble. I looked at the time -- 6:47.
I moved as quickly and quietly as I could about 50 more yards in his direction. The visibility in there was about 35 yards, with 20 or more yards of mediocre shooting. I called and he gobbled back at me. My heart commenced to pounding. That first answer always gets me good.
In the next few minutes I got him to gobble 6 or 8 more times, but he was walking away. Boy, I hate those kind of birds. I don't know if he had a hen pulling him away, or if he was just subordinate, but I didn't have time to make a big move on a walk-away bird. But I also knew that my chances were nil if I didn't get closer to him, at least.
So, I picked up and headed about 75 yards towards him, and came to a place that was not quite as open, but still afforded about 30 yards of good visibility and 20 yards of shooting. I was looking around for a decent tree to get against when I heard a deer blow. So, I just sat down where I was, treeless. I listened for a minute then gave the tom a lusty yelp or two, which he didn't answer. As is always the case, I wondered if I hadn't misjudged the distance to the bird and perhaps bumped him.
About 5 minutes later I thought I heard another deer. As I strained to see through the saplings, I heard distinct footsteps, and sure enough, the white head of a strutting turkey, quartering towards me from left to right, no more than 30 yards out. Now, unless my hearing is much worse than I think it is, there is no way this was the same bird that was just walking away at least 150 yards from me. Even in the very unlikely event he had changed his mind the second I heard his last gobble, he would not have made his way so far so quickly through the thick woods.
So I was caught with my gun down. He spit and drummed as he got just about to the area I could shoot through. He did a little dance step and turned to my left, and eased over behind a couple 8 inch pines. As soon as his eyes went behind the trees, I got my gun up and my bead on him. I immediately wished I could rest my elbow on my knee, but in the position I was in there was no way to do that without being busted. My Mossberg 500 with the 28" barrel gets heavy pretty quick.
He took about two or three more steps to the left, then twirled back to the right, spit and drummed, and eased towards a little bitty opening I had my eye on....
He never even flopped. I looked at the time -- 7:12. And I still had plenty of time to get to work. What a way to start the work day.
I went over and admired the beautiful bird. He had sharp spurs and a long beard. Probably a three year old. There were a couple tail feathers missing, but a gorgeous russet colored fan nonetheless. Maybe 18 or 19 pounds. But I'll have to wait to get measurements after work.
I had to carry him out of the thick stuff in my arms like a baby to keep from messing up his feathers. When I got to the truck I realized I left my shoes at the house. Since I don't think wearing knee high rubber boots would go unnoticed at the office, I figured I better swing by the house on the way in. Oh well, it'll be OK if I'm there by 8:15 or so.
19 pounds
10 5/16" beard
matching 1 1/16" spurs
Hal
Carolina tom - pictures
