Shoot - Scooooooooore!
The second day of turkey season started with a 4:00 a.m.wakeup, plenty of hot coffee, the climb to the lower ridges of Tussey Mountains and then I settled down beside a tree by 5:15 a.m. I decided to return to the bench where on Saturday I had posted my buddy Regis. He had a great morning, saw plenty of turkeys, but left the woods empty handed.
When I began my hike into the woods, the stars were visible and the night sky looked clear, but 15-minutes into my wait for daybreak it started to rain. Not hard but enough to make your shoulders and knees damp. Rats – my rain gear was at home so I started making plans to keep dry. It was 5:40 a.m. and I was stuck on the mountain in the rain. I was about to get really depressed when a turkey across the bench gobbled.
Forget the rain the hunt was on!
After 20-minutes of silence the rain stopped and other turkeys started to gobble and a hen below me started to yelp. I made a tree call and got an answer, but when the gobbler left the tree he sailed off the bench into the hollow. He gobbled from below and I turned up the volume and called back. The hen joined in so I challenged her too. All the players seemed to hold their ground.
Across the mountain [150-yards away] several more toms gobbled and began to get cranked up so I got more aggressive too. At one point, I think four gobblers, the hen and me were all calling. Things got loud – no timid calling here. I noticed that the turkeys across the mountain were drifting toward the bench.
I stopped calling because those gobblers had made a decision, and I wanted to see their hand before I made another call.
The two toms gobbled back to back just over the lip of the bench about 75-yards from my damp seat next to the white oak. I called immediately and they both shot back and it seemed louder or perhaps it was my blood pressure amplifying the sound!
The bench was like a well groomed park – big, well spaced oak and white pine and very little underbrush. When those turkeys came over the edge of the bench, they could see everything and they expected the hen [me] to come to them. They planted their feet and would not move an inch more. The dominant bird would flare his tail, spit and drum [sounds like “fit – hummm”] and the other would gobble then the dominant bird would gobble also.
I was into a classic problem hunt – you can see them – they can see where the hen should be and they were not going a step further.
Standoff – so I did the standard calls and tricks. I purred softly – their response - gobble, spit, drum and gobble. I clucked softly – response – gobble, spit, drum and gobble. I scratched in the leaves to mimic the sound of a hen feeding nearby but unseen – same response. If I did nothing they repeated their standard response. For 25- minutes the standoff continued.
I could tell from their body language that they were about to make a major decision and if they left the bench I was sunk. So I waited until they started their call sequence and I started cutting like a “wet hen.” When they stopped so did I. I was hoping that calling in the middle of their sounds would mask my exact location. It worked.
The “looker” escort broke ranks first and started toward me and a little to my right, followed by “big boy” and another jake that was out of my sight and now part of the group closing the distance.
I shifted my gun and body to a point were I was aiming were they would pass within range. It was too open to chance following their progress with my gun. Now I was looking over the scope and trying to watch three heads as they came forward at a steady walk.
The first gobbler stopped within range and started to crane his neck and examine every inch of the forest where the wet hen sounded off. He was beautiful – full grown – nice beard and unaware of my location. The other two were still coming from my left and I could see them out of the corner of my eye.
After 35-years of turkey hunting, you can see the potential problem about to develop. In about 60-seconds, I would have three sets of eyes looking for trouble, and my ability to move, aim and shoot would be a quick draw option that I usually lose. I made my decision.
The lead gobbler passed behind a tree, I dropped my cheek to the gun stock, the safety came off, my view of the turkey was now through the scope and the crosshairs were centered on the gobbler’s head. I forgot about the other two turkeys, aimed again and squeezed off the shot.
I heard the other gobblers exit the bench putting and running down the ridge, but I kept my eyes on the downed bird with another shell in the chamber. No need to worry. This hunt was over.
I thanked the Lord for his goodness, got up and stepped off the distance to where the gobbler lay.
Thirty steps.
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