I flew into Memphis around 9 a.m. for a couple of days of hunting with dad. Dad and I got to his church members farm around 3:30 p.m., and headed to a spot he had seen and worked birds a few times during the year. On the way to that spot we saw a strutting gobbler in a field and had to hit the dirt. I tried to crawl to a tree, but realized hens could see me so we had to set up in the prone position. I called once and immediately got a gobble. After about 20 minutes I yelped again and nothing. I thought I had seen the hens further out in the field heading into the woods so I attempted to sit up and get a fix on the strutting gobbler. Two of the hens had not left the field and flew off at my movement. This caused the gobbler to gobble, but he would then leave the field. After sitting on another field for a few hours we had 3 gobblers walk into us. They didn't seem to be interested and were skirting us heading to roost at about 50 yards. Dad had no shot, so I killed one. It was a good shot with a bit of luck at 50 paces. It was my first bird in Tennessee. He was 19.3 lbs, with a 10 ½ inch fat beard and 1 inch spurs.
The rest of the hunt was slow. Two days and one gobble! We did manage to yelp some hens up off and on, but it seemed to be over.
