Okay, so not opening day anymore, but all the same to an old boy who's spent a fair share of time in the turkey woods (ALL of last spring only to miss two birds).
This morning started out on the wrong foot. Out motorcycle riding with a pack last night and we had a rider go down. He's going to be fine. Got home on the down side of midnight, supposed to be rolling at 5am. Didn't happen... Left about 6 with the sun on my heels. Got a phone call from my wheel bow yielding buddy on his first turkey hunt ever. He was covered in birds already and had missed a bird by 8am.
My back up spot had proven fruitless by 9am, so I decided to cross the river and try to find Aaron. I found a sweet little opening in the woods with what seems to be an old partial roadbed, a low spot and a brushpile. My kind of medicine! I set up and strapped my tree seat on a tree in the pile and started yelping softly. After an hour or so I thought I'd get up and go find Aaron. Unstrapped the seat and heard a hen yelping and a gobbler responding! Spun around, hit my knees behind the stakeout panel blind and tried battling the hen- this time I was on the right side of the river! Battle goes on for a few minutes and finally I see the hen- it was Aaron... but the gobbler was very real and he kept coming. Then he spotted the decoys, but Aaron, being a noob (like me), kept calling, soaking up the tune of the gobbler's song. Too much calling is not a good thing, but Aaron was too far from me to motion to stop and the Tom lost interest. We packed up and wandered through the woods, stopping to yelp here and there and actually almost had the old bird again, but again, we may have overdone the calling. I too need to learn to shut up sometimes!
Aaron had to cut early and it had already gotten hot enough for me by 2:00. I decided to roll, but on the second to last curve of the wildlife area I decided to stop and give an honest go at sitting on a field for a couple of hours.
I slipped down the field edge around to a little cul de sac where if birds did show, passing cars on the road wouldn't see them, stop and blow them out for me. I staked out the hen and the jake about 12 yards from the edge, strategically in front of a hackberry off the edge of the field, staked out the blind panel and strapped on my seat. I let out a few loud yelps since the wind was in my face and I figured the birds would be on the other side of the field. A few minutes later while checking for upper limb clearance, I reached in my pack for the saw to cut a small limb that wanted to grab the bow. While I was cutting, I glanced across the field and there was a bird on the far edge. Crap!! Drop saw, grab binos, check for beard.. Sweet! And he's coming my way! As he makes his way across the field, he starts to drift to the south edge and I'm thinking he's going to slip into the woods and out of my life. Worried about calling too much, I let out three sharp clucks. Stops him cold, upright and alert. Whoops... Nope.. FULL STRUT!! Still in the game! I feed him a few more clucks, he straightens up and starts covering ground! I tell myself "This is my bird".
As he closes the distance, something's not working for him. HANG UP!!?? Still strutting, he spots something in the tallgrass that must not have been there this morning. Full upright, he turns around and flips his wings onto his back in that "I'm outa here" attitude. I draw, eyeball the wing joint on the back, hoping to get into the chest cavity, release, duck string, arrow skips in dirt, bird runs, struggles but takes to wing and goes all the way back across the field. We're talking 150 yds plus. Guess where my mind is... Run to arrow, very little blood. Playback- "did I see his head kick when the arrow hit?". I cross the field to where it looked like he entered the woods, kneel down and listen. Sounds like flapping wings..!! Crawl around a bit to peer through the lower limbs of the cedars and saplings. I spot him, not moving!! My Bird!! Naturally the thanks and praise goes up with a bowed head. I had a feeling that if i could get a shot off this year, it would be better than last. Up close I find I lucked up and laid open the right side of the neck. Fatal, but not what i wanted. I shall accept it.
Here's the decoy view of the hackberry hideout.
God knows I am in now way, shape or form a trophy hunter, but I'll take 7/8" hooks and an 8 1/2" beard as soon as I'd take a stubby jake!