ADVENTURE SPORTS OUTDOORS “THE VOICE OF THE AMERICAN SPORTSMAN”
92
May 2004
to fire off again so I could get a better fix on him. A few minutes passed without a gobble. It was starting to get light quickly. I needed to get set up on this bird before he hit the ground. I was going to have to make an educated guess on where he was roosting. I chose to move north on the ridge, thinking he was in the big oaks on the south end of the ridge. This would give me a spot to set up within calling distance, but still offer me a window of a couple of moves if he The anticipation was killing me as I sipped my did not respond to my sultry yelps. coffee waiting for the first glimmer of dawn. I As I reached the flat on top of the ridge, I quickly looked for a spot with checked my vest over and over trying to make enough cover to hide, but also, giving me enough open area to see him coming sure I had not forgotten anything. It was not before he sees me. A small dead fall was over to my right about 50 yards that long before I heard the first sounds announcing would make a good ambush spot. One step after another, each one carefully calthe coming of a new day. A small wren started culated as to make a minim noise. I was close. Then it happened. I heard somecalling out to any available female that might thing to my right. I froze. No, it couldn’t be. Another sound rattled my cage. be in shouting distance. It won’t be long now This one could not be mistaken. It was the alarm put from a nasty hen. before one of those big gobblers I saw last fall Suddenly, the woods were alive. Turkeys were busting from the roost like malcuts loose, giving me a fix on his location. lards working a corn field. I had made a terrible judgment call on my first set The pre-dawn sounds started getting louder, but still no gobble. Ten more up. Well there was nothing to do now but move to a different spot. minutes passed with out even a tree yelp. I have filled every turkey tag I have I sat and waited a spell until the sun was up high enough to where I was sure ever drawn for this county in these woods, so I know there has to be some birds all the birds had hit the ground. I worked four different areas that morning withhere. I closed my eyes and pictured that bunch I saw walk by my stand last deer out as much hearing anything that even sounded like a turkey. The morning sun season. Boy, there was a sight! Seven big gobblers all in one bunch. was getting high as I worked my way back to the truck. I stopped and cut along Another vision flashed through my subconscious. Not two weeks earlier I had the edge of the fields, hoping to catch a gobbler looking for another hen. No seen a big tom strutting in the very field I was standing in. Suddenly, a gobble luck. These birds were as tight lipped as I have ever hunted. pierced the still air. I quickly grabbed my gun and started in his direction. All Days 2 and 3 were no better. Two days and no gobbles. I even tried to put a my senses were in full gear. He is on the west ridge, but at which end? My pace few birds to bed on both days. I was hearing similar stories from other hunters quickened as I tried to cover as much ground before my silhouette along the in the area. They just weren’t gobbling. Could it be the hunting pressure? Or edge of the field gave me away. I reached the cover of the woods before there was it because they were all henned up? I knew there were a good number of was enough light for him to pick me out. I leaned against a tree waiting for him birds in the area because signs were everywhere. Scratchings, droppings, feathers along the field edges, and the tell tale signs of turkeys moving in the distance, busted from their feeding areas by mushroom hunters. Three days of hard hunting was done. My tactics had to change if I was going to get my bird before my tag ran out. I knew a few areas where there were a lot of signs. This would at least give me a starting point for the next morning. My plan was simple. I needed to try a less aggressive approach to these seasoned veterans of the forest. I made a pact that night. No aggressive calling. I was going to spend the last days clucking and purring in known feeding areas. I had also packed a wing in my vest to make some flapping sounds. I wanted no more than to sound like a few turkeys moving through the timber looking for a meal. The next day brought, once again, the unmistakable sounds and smells of turkey season. I had set up on an oak flat in the center of two adjoining ridges before daybreak This is where I had often seen birds feeding in years past. This area showed a lot of signs and was my best bet for a shy gobbler. The morning rays of sunlight started to cut into the timber. I had heard a few gobbles early, off to the west, but nothing in my area. It was hard not to let www.gutters-more.com out a few yelps and cuts. Every few minutes I would only scratch the dried leaves, flap the wing, and give
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