Beautiful bands of pink and gold streaked the eastern sky — the hills still black bulwarks against the coming dawn. As I waited a few minutes, several small birds began to chirp and two pairs of mallard ducks whizzed by just over my head — their wings whistling in the crisp morning air.
Then I heard the music that always inspires, lifts, excites and thrills as a turkey gobbled across the valley. Over all the years I’ve hunted, that sound has never grown old or stale. A mature Tom’s brazen gobble invigorates me as perhaps no other sound can.
Suddenly, the years flew back to times when turkeys were more plentiful and the hunters fewer. Steve Colley and I parked in the predawn darkness and grabbed our equipment. We started up an old road Steve knew of that led to the far ridge. We found it and began climbing. Only 100 yards up the hill we discovered, to our dismay, the hillside in front of us had been cut. Tree tops crossed the road every few feet and clutched at our clothing as we struggled up the limbs, tripping us and making life miserable. The dried limbs also broke, snapped and popped loudly in the predawn darkness — we must have sounded like a herd of elephants fighting our way upward.
We stopped to catch our breath and I turned to Steve and said; “We have to go back.”
Steve looked at me concerned; “Why?”
“I think we missed breaking a couple limbs back there, better go stomp on them. You know of any other shortcuts?”
Steve, imperturbable, grinned at me. “No, this is the quietest path I can remember.”
We prayed we were far enough from the roosting birds across the small valley that we didn’t alarm them, though, I’m sure they heard us.
Once on the ridge top, we headed toward the gobblers roost on the point and waited anxiously some 200 yards away. Had we spooked them cracking all those branches? We were thrilled when the birds gobbled on their own. We quickly set up and called, but when the birds flew down, only one gobbled and he walked away from us down over the hill. He’d answer but seemed to be following a hen.
After an hour, the sun came up and we decided to close the distance. Sneaking forward, we set up again, but this time I moved 50 in front of Steve who volunteered to call. The bird answered, but came no closer until Steve began purring. That drew his attention and the gobbling began drawing closer. Suddenly, a huge black ball appeared in front of me — the gobbler in full strut with a hen. The hen looked our way, then moved off. Steve purred seductively and the gobbler hesitated. He purred again and the gobbler stopped following the hen and slowly moved within range. Heart pounding, I aimed carefully and squeezed. The big gobbler weighed 21 pounds and one ounce. What a hunt!
With the youth gobbler season opening April 24 and the adult the following weekend, it’s time to prepare — the days seem to fly by so quickly.
Hopefully, the season will be more productive than 2020. Many seasoned, even veteran hunters, failed to score. It was the most difficult season I can remember.
An unforeseen challenge this year is the scarcity of shotgun shells. I haven’t been able to locate my favorite turkey loads, the shelves are empty. Luckily, I have a few left from last year.
This brings up the subject of patterning your shotgun. An ethical hunter knows the maximum range he can shoot. That could be a challenge this spring if you don’t have enough ammunition to pattern with. I know my gun’s capabilities but still needed to double check my zero this year. I put my target up at 20 yards and fired a trap load. The red dot has moved slightly, the pattern was 4 inches low and left. I adjusted the sights and was dead on. Thank goodness I checked. At 40 yards, the center of the pattern would have been 8 inches off — not acceptable at all and could have caused a miss or wounded gobbler.
What type of turkey call is best can be a debatable question. Chris Shaw carries only a couple mouth calls and is very successful. I can’t make myself go afield with a single call. I like a big box call to locate birds and/or call them in close with. Then, I use my mouth call, which allows me to remain motionless. My third go-to call is a slate. Many times, a slate call will move a bird no other call can, but not every day. If you are inexperienced and still learning a push-type call, such as an easy yelper, it’s simple to use and very often deadly. Simply yelp three times and purr occasionally. That little call can be very productive.
Wearing good camouflage that matches the terrain and tree type is important, but the most important thing of all is remaining motionless. Our wily gobblers can see any motion at all at 100 yards and if they do, they’re gone. Use a good seat cushion and get comfortable before calling.
Well, let’s hope this is a better spring. Even bagging a single long beard is quite a feat nowadays. Good luck.
