Dedicated or Crazy?
As the mercury continues to plummet on this cool February day, I can’t help but reminisce of hunting seasons past. Re-living the good, the bad and the memorable hunts, helps to pass the time until the next opening day arrives. More often than not, your most memorable hunts are those where you do not harvest an animal. To say that I am a big turkey hunter is an understatement. I have been infatuated with anything turkey related since I was 5 years old.
Have you ever hunted a turkey that no matter what you did, he was always one step ahead of you? Here’s one such hunt that I remember quite well from the 2017 Pennsylvania Spring Gobbler Season. It was the end of the second week of Pennsylvania’s Spring Gobbler Season, and I had been hunting hard all season, up to this point. While I had experienced a good spring, with calling several birds to the gun for friends; and myself, the turkeys weren’t acting “right”. This Friday morning I found myself in a unique situation, and I did not have anyone to hunt with. I left the house early to hunt a new spot that I had located during an early spring scouting trip. It is a beautiful hardwood ridge that runs up into a “bowl”. I slowly pulled the truck off of the road and into the game lands parking spot. I had arrived much earlier than I anticipated, and used those few minutes I had to finish a cup of coffee and study a topographical map of the area.
I loaded up my vest, and headed into the pre-dawn darkness; to listen for gobbles. As I arrived on a familiar ridge, I heard a few distant gobbles. I don’t like to take off like a mad man after the first turkey I hear, just in case there is a gobbler closer. I decided to stay put for several minutes to make sure there wasn’t a gobbler roosted closer. After several minutes passed, and those gobbles in the distance testing my patience; I elected to slowly start heading towards the most vocal gobbler of the bunch. As I was making my way to that gobbler, his gobbling intensity started to slow down (as they sometimes do, closer to fly down); and I stopped to listen near a large cherry tree. Several more minutes of silence had passed, and left me wondering if I had spooked this gobbler by getting in a hurry to close the distance. I let out my best rendition of a barred owl hoot “whooo-cooks for you cadence, and the gobbler immediately answered. I was only 120 yards away from this roosted gobbler, and knew I could not get any closer with daylight coming fast. I slowly slid down the large cherry tree’s trunk, lowered the seat on my turkey vest and put my facemask on. I let the woods settle down for several minutes before uttering a few barely audible yelps from my mouth call. Garrrrroooobbblleeeee , he immediately fired back. I’m not one to over call to a roosted gobbler, and have learned over the years that this more often than not; does more harm than good. I waited several more minutes and softly yelped again, and boy did he like that! The gobbler let out a double gobble, and I knew then I had his attention.
Shorlty after that last double gobble, I saw three black bodies fly down , and I knew I had a challenge on my hands. I did my best to convince those hens that I was one of them, but eventually they went quiet and drifted away from my set-up. Knowing how open this area was, I was unable to circle around infront of these birds to try a second set-up. I vowed to return to this ridge later in the morning; with hopes this gobbler would lose his hens.
As I was sitting there contemplating what to do I heard a barely audible gobble ring out from behind me. This gobble sounded like it was close to my truck. I waited a few minutes, and yelped very loudly on a crystal call. The gobbler cut my sequence of yelps off. As I was making my way towards that gobbler, he would gobble every few minutes on his own. I couldn’t help but smile, as I knew this meant the gobbler was alone and wanting to meet me. As I was nearing my truck I wanted to check the gobbler and see exactly where he was. I used my mouth call to do some excited hen yelps and he fired right back, nearly 200 yards away from me; but across the road from where I parked.
I slowly slipped into the woods across from where I parked, not wanting to spook this hot, lonely gobbler. He really got fired up as I went silent sneaking through the early May woods, using the little cover to cut the distance in half. He let out a booming gobble, one that you can “feel”. I started looking for a tree to set up against. I selected a large maple tree, which offered good visibility, and multiple shooting lanes onto a logging road below me. I let the woods calm down for a minute, and started to work this gobbler.
He was gobbling hard, and moving towards me very quickly. The gobbler hung up around 75 yards away from me, as they sometimes do. We are trying to reverse nature by calling the gobbler to the hen. More often than not, giving the hung-up gobbler the silent treatment will seal the deal. I waited fifteen minutes before calling again, and the gobbler went into a gobbling frenzy! He started gobbling every 30 seconds; frantically looking for the hot hen he had heard a few moments ago. I waited a few minutes, and softly yelped on a diaphragm call. He shot back a booming gobble that you could feel rattle off of your chest. After a few times going back and forth like this I heard what I thought was wing beats from the gobbler. The next thing I knew, I heard the unmistakable sound of spitting and drumming. I readied my gun and started scanning ever so intently, looking for the approaching gobbler. I caught a glimpse of him at 50 yards making his way toward the logging road. I slipped the safety off, and started to get ready for the shot. I was waiting for the gobbler to step out from behind a large blow down, when I heard wing beats again. Then at once, I saw an eagle fly down through the valley. I sat there for a few moments, pondering what had just occurred. Then it occurred to me, the gobbler was spooked by the eagle and flew back to where he was hung up at. All-the while this gobbler continued to gobble, but was walking away from me.
I walked back towards my truck, and tried to circle around the gobbler, but came to realize that there was a river between the gobbler and me! It all made sense now. I looked for a shallow spot to cross this river, but came-up empty. All-the while, this gobbler went into a gobbling frenzy, and gobbled on his own every minute for 45 minutes. After contemplating my next move, I decided to cross the river and get back on this gobbler. I had called him into gun range once, but the eagle flying down the river spooked him. I found the slowest moving part of the river and decided I was going to cross it. I unloaded my gun, and started to cross this river. I was quickly reminded of how deep this water was, as my second step into the river was knee deep. At that point, I was committed to crossing the river the rest of the way! The next step found me up to my waist in water, and a few more after that I was rib deep in this slowly moving river. Thankfully, the water level was getting shallower and shallower with every step to the next bank.
After getting across the river, and emptying the water out of my boots; I focused my attention to locating this gobbler. I yelped loudly on my diaphragm call, and he immediately answered me. I circled around this gobbler and set-up. We talked back and forth for nearly one hour, before hanging-up and starting to drift away. I couldn’t believe my luck. I had this gobbler inside of 50 yards twice, but could not get a shot at him yet.
I let the gobbler drift off until he was far enough out of sight that I wouldn’t spook him. After that moment, I had made my mind up that I was going to get this gobbler or I was going to spook him trying. I knew I needed to get inside this gobblers bubble before calling again. While I was making my move, he started to gobble from one area.
I made a wide circle around this gobbler and was slowly sneaking towards him. This flat I was now on, offered a poor set-up at best. The edge of the hilltop was lined with multaflora rose bushes, and there was a small ravine that carves up the hill in front of me. As I was slowly making my way towards a large hemlock tree, a crow flew over and the turkey gobbled. I was nearly 90 yards from the gobbler at this point, but the terrain did not allow me to get any closer. I sat down at the large hemlock, and began to work the gobbler. I knew I had to get this gobbler fired up, for him to come into my set-up a third time. I started to let some excited cutting and yelping ring out from my set-up. This was more than the old gobbler could take, and he started closing the distance, slowly but surely. As the gobbler was approaching he started to move to my left, right behind the multaflora rose bushes. I heard the familiar “pfffttttt-dduuuumm”, of a mature gobbler strutting. I slowly shifted my body that way, and then saw his white crown periscope over the edge of the hill. He was only 25 yards away, but the thick rose bushes prevented me from shooting. I let the gobbler walk off, and threw my calls in the opposite direction.
The gobbler was now circling around the hill, and started making his way up the ravine. Now he was coming straight at me, and I was ready this time; or so I thought. I first caught a glimpse of the dark brown tips of his full fan, as he strutted towards me. I softly yelped on my diaphragm call, and he gobbled right back at me. I was now patiently waiting for him to come into range. The old gobbler was starting to act nervous, and I thought he was well within gun range. I slowly slipped off the safety, dug my check into the gunstock, centered the crosshairs on his waddles and pulled the trigger. I immediately jumped up after the shot, expecting to see a turkey flopping. To my surprise I saw him flying away from me, unscathed!
As I was walking out to my truck (and crossing the river again),I couldn’t help but laugh at my misfortune. I had called a mature gobbler into my set-up not once, not twice, but three times! I had fooled him three times, but came-up short when my shot barely missed him. Even though I did not carry that turkey out over my shoulder to my truck, it was one of the most memorable hunts I had all spring. The memories of this morning will not soon be forgotten, and he will still be there to hunt next spring.