I headed out Sat morning haven eaten only two bananas in two days, due to a nasty stomach flu that made the rounds at my house this week. I was feeling better, but mighty weak.
I got to the planned location plenty early, and thought to myself what a nice morning for gobbling it was. As the woods woke up and the birds started singing, and then the crows started cawing, and the geese started honking -- no turkeys gobbled. So, I gave an owl hoot, and still nothing. So, I got aggressive with the hooting, and nothing --except for a pair of owls that flew in and really cranked it up -- and still nothing.
Fly down time came and went and I had no birds to go to.
So, I cranked out a few yelps, and I was immediately answered by a hen. She was real loud, but I could tell she was still in the tree. In case there was a silent gobbler with her I got set up on her. When it sounded like she was on the ground, I tried to work her in, but she went the other way -- I thought. So, I got up and eased over to where she had roosted, and busted her out of the tree, at about quarter to 8. I can only figure that must have been another hen I was hearing on the ground...
So I sat down and worked yet another hen I was hearing back to my right, and called her up. But no gobblers were in tow. So, after giving it a fair chance keeping her around as a decoy and having her talk with me, and watching deer come in and wind me, twice, and blow and run off, I snuck off and headed out to do some prospecting while it was still early.
I eased through the woods calling, and the only action was from that lonesome hen who still wanted me to be with her.
But about 8:30, I struck one. He gobbled hard at me. Now, I always get excited when I start to work a turkey, but I was amazed at how quickly and intensely my adrenalin got pumping and my heart got going, and my breathing got heavy, with just that one gobble. It was like the first time again. It might have been my weakened state that seemed to amplify the feelings, but I tell you, nothing does me like turkey hunting does.
So I got a little closer and yelped again, and he thundered back immediately. I answered immediately and he gobbled right back.
I set up there and put my box call away since I was pretty close and I knew he was hot. I wanted my hands ready for quick action.
I called, and he cut me off. So I got my gun up on my knee.
About 2 minutes later, he gobbled again, and it sounded farther away. So I got up and moved towards him about 50 yds closer. I called and he hammered right back.
About 10 minutes later, he still hadn't moved so I figured he was with hens. I then got real sweet and submissive (in my mind at least) with my calls and fully expected a long drawn out ordeal.
But then I caught a glimpse of a hen easing my way throught the under-growth about 80 yds away, so I called lovingly to her. 30 seconds later, I saw the fan, about halfway between me and the hen. He was easing up the rise out of the bottom towards me. He got to where he knew I could see him, and turned sideways to me, strutting left to right. I was going to try to get him closer, but I knew he had hens behind him, and he was just easing over towards me to try to get me to come with him and his harem. And I figured he was very likely to ease back the other way instead of coming any closer. So, I changed my mind, and as he stopped right in a small opening for a split second, still in full strut, I let the 28 gauge TSS 9s go. And he flopped at 35 yards.
I celebrated, gave thanks, snapped up my seat cushion and went over to him. 2 hens who were still there busted and flew off as I got close to him, reluctant to leave their man.
He was just a hair under 20 lbs, a three year old (most likely), with a 9-1/4" beard, 1" and 1-1/8" spurs
