Going turkey hunting on Mother’s Day usually does not score you a lot of “brownie” points with the wife. However, this time, I had her full blessing.It was the last day of the 2011 turkey season in Indiana and I had put my personal ambitions aside to help both my wife and one of the girls from our archery team collect their first turkeys. I believe my personal hunting time, before that Mother’s Day morning, could be counted in hours….not days.
Under normal circumstances, I may not have had much motivation to drag myself out of bed that morning. It was a church morning. However, on this particular morning we did not have an early service so I decided I would try until 8 AM giving me plenty of time to get home and get ready.
However, this was not a normal circumstance. I was hunting one particular bird. I do not think in my twenty years of turkey hunting that I had ever hunted one particular bird. Usually, it is “set up…call…and see what comes in.”
This bird we had nicknamed “The King” simply because he was THE king of this particular field. One day while hunting with the girl from our archery team I watched a healthy two year old (that my wife shot the next day) run all the way across the field in retreat from the “king.” When the “king” was in the field there was never any other tom within 150 yards of him!!!!
About a week before that incident, the young lady almost got the king. He walked and strutted with his hens towards our blind from well over 200 yards away. He actually came close enough to turn the safety off on the gun. Every time I would send out the softest of calls he would double gobble and strut. He clearly saw our decoy. However, he was too proud to lower himself to walk to the decoy. She was going to have to do the proper thing and come to him. At the last minute, he made a course change and pulled his hens with him out of shotgun range.
One of the afternoons I got to hunt I took my bow and set up in the same place my wife had recently shot her turkey. Sure enough, he showed up with his harem. Like all the other times he stayed far away from the blind putting on a show for me the whole time. (see picture above)
On that Mother’s Day morning, I decided to do things “the old fashioned way.” I was going to “run and gun.” I had not hunted like that in years, especially in the pursuit of my turkey bow slam. That required a lot of hours sitting in blinds. This morning, however, I was going to locate a bird, set up on him, and see what happens. It was obvious the “king” was blind shy.
I arrived at my son in law’s farm well before daylight. It was a perfect morning….clear skies and no wind…comfortable temperature.
I didn’t have to wait too long to hear him sound off from the roost. As soon as he gobbled I began my move. I went half way across the field and set up in the tree line about 150 yards from him.
He was now gobbling from the roost at a pretty fevered rate. I gave a soft tree yelp with my mouth call and he immediately responded. One more time and then I shut up. My silence was irritating him because he constantly gobbled trying to get me to respond. I decided to play hard to get.
Commotion behind me startled me. There were hens roosted that flew into the field. Darn!!! That’s not good.
About 15-20 minutes later he finally made his way into the field about 150 yards away. He spotted the hens out in the middle of the field and went right to them. I called to him trying to deter him but to no avail. He acknowledged my presence, but as usual, he had no intention of coming.
All I could do was sit and watch him as he strutted and gobbled the hens. A fog set in at one point and I lost sight of him although I could hear him drumming. I actually entertained the thought of crawling on my belly, in the fog, and trying to close the distance for a shot. With my luck, however, I figured the fog would lift at a bad time leaving me quite exposed. I decided to stick it out.
I had a lot of time to think as I waited for something to happen. I took in the sights and the sounds around me. I could smell spring. I could hear all the other birds in song as the day continued to awake. It was as if time had stopped for me.
I reflected on previous hunts through the years. In my younger days I would have really gotten impatient and mad by now that this turkey wasn’t coming my way and I wasn’t going to get a shot. It seemed like it was all about “the kill.” The experts on hunting psychology say that is normal when you first start out hunting. I guess I’ve grown up. I actually thought this wasn’t going to happen and I really didn’t care. I was just thankful to be there.
I was brought back from my daydreaming by a gobble that sounded a bit closer. Sure enough, when I looked up, I noticed the hens were moving from my right to left. They were heading for the corner to my left that they frequently entered the woods (except when I had the blind there). The hens were well ahead of the king. As the hens passed, within what I thought was shotgun range, I held up my rangefinder to check the distance. That is when I found out that rangefinders do not work in fog!
I held my shotgun up and held the red dot on one of the hen’s necks just to see how it felt. It felt good. If the king would take the same steps they did, I might get this done.
Finally, he let down from strut and started to follow them. I guess he finally figured out they were serious about leaving the field. He moved to the spot I had put the gun on the hen. I knew this was going to be a long shot. I turned on the red dot and put it on his neck. It felt good. I slipped of the safety. I aimed like a rifle knowing that it was going to be a tough shot. I squeezed the trigger and down he went. I got up, walked a few steps towards him, and put a “backup” shot into him just for good measure. I paced off the distance and it was 50 yards. I had never shot a turkey that far.
I knew when I walked up on him that I had just killed the biggest turkey of my life. The beard was full, thick, and long. When I turned him over and saw the spurs I was awestruck. They were hooks. Later when I took him for check in he weighed in at 25 pounds, had 11.5 inch beard, and 1.5 inch spurs.
It was a perfect end to what turned out to be a perfect season. I helped two ladies, including my wife, get their first turkeys and now this. I really could have walked away that morning with nothing and been happy with life. However, to end like this was almost story book like.
There is no doubt about it. Whenever I hunt that field now, I will always remember that hunt. I will recall the thunderous gobble of the “king” and the way he majestically strutted and ruled that area.
More than that, I will remember that morning as the day that my perspectives about a lot of things matured.
