I was quickly out of the blind and headed for the downed tom. I'd come around the from his blind side behind the brush at the base of the little locust tree he'd crashed by. If he needed a finisher, I wanted to deliver it from as close as possible in case it was a moving shot.
As I got closer there seemed to be a lot of commotion going on where my bird was. It was soon evident that his traveling partner had come back and was trouncing the crap out of him.
Once again greedy thoughts crossed my mind, but the other tom spotted me and left the scene in short order.
As I approached the downed bird I could see there was some life left in him so at ten yards I sent a second broadhead through his brain. It was now officially over.
After the picture taking session I shouldered my trophy and headed for the truck.
The wind was clipping along briskly now and held the promise bad weather to come. And the wind called... turkey.