Two for Tuesday?

Two for Tuesday?
April 12, 2011
By Bob Zettler
 
“Just give me my money back,” I told the Hardee's employee curtly.  I mean come on, it’s 5:30 AM and there is no one else in line and they want me to pull forward while they prepare my gravy biscuit and wait another five minutes while they get the gravy hot!  I was already running behind and I wasn’t about to wait while they nuked some premixed gravy for a biscuit I didn’t have one of the current “two-for” coupons for, so I got my money back and screamed over to the Golden Arches where I was on the road with my sausage biscuit 60 seconds later.  God I hate McDonald's and actually prefer Hardee's but now I understand why the arches do more business than Hardee's and why Americans are more overweight than others but I digress already…
 
It was the second day of the first season for wild turkey in Illinois for us northern hunters and the conditions looked ripe for a fantastic morning but only if I can get to the farm before the birds hit the ground.  I wanted to be there well before 5:30 AM as I had been yesterday but got stuck at home and was stressed already.  Another 10 minutes and I am there where I bypass my usual parking spot for one closer to the birds I found yesterday.  Without thinking I pulled into the edge of the field with my headlights on and pointing right across the field to where they were roosted in the woods at the edge of the property.  What a rookie mistake but would it be as bad as yesterday…
 
It was the opener for my first season and I was whooped before leaving home at 4:20 AM.  I don’t know about you all but I have trouble sleeping the night before any hunting season and last night was no different.  It reminds me of that transition from having fun during the summers when I was teen and that first day of school. No, I wasn’t excited about going back to class but I guess I hated to leave the summer behind and return to the drudgery of our education system back then.  And now I am leaving the drudgery of going into the office and am excited about returning to the woods and fields to chase wild turkeys!
 
Anyway, it was pitch black out on Monday, April 11 as I started to get my gear on from my vantage point at the top of the farm where I hunt. It is well over ¾ mile from one end to the other and it was downhill from here, so getting to the birds is always easier than hiking back to the Jeep when the hunt is over.  However, it provides an excellent opportunity to listen for birds as the landowner has property on both sides of the road and historically there is usually a good concentration of them down by what I refer to as “George’s Pond” and then again near the far end by the owners home.  I prefer the pond as I have been very successful there and the thought of hiking all the way back up that hill to my Jeep when it was all over just doesn’t cut it…
 
Now, I have a routine as I prepare for battle and that includes getting partially dressed at home and then the rest of my gear on site.  No, I am not half-naked but I usually only put on my base layer of clothing for my hour+ ride to hunt somewhere and this morning was no different.  I left home dressed in my camo sweat pants, socks, UnderArmor shirt with a long-sleeve shirt over that and in my Crocs.  After releasing the remnants of soda consumed on the drive over, I    pull on a jacket this morning due to the cooler temps, then my leafy camo suit over the camo clothes I had already put on at home, then my gaiters to prevent chiggers from eating me alive as they use to, then my boots which is no easy chore nowadays as my gut gets in the way and cuts off oxygen when I bend over to tie my laces, then spray with Permanone to ward off the ticks and other crawly critters, and finally my leafy turkey vest so I can carry my trophy home.  Now I have already heard a bird or two in the breezy darkness and they were over in that section of the woods they have been these past seven or so seasons I have been blessed to hunt this farm.  But as I begin to head that way with my Winchester SX2 slung over my shoulder and my decoys in a bag, it hit me with all the urgency of a bad Mexican dish – I had to take a dump! Sure, I went at home but why-oh-why does the body like to wait till you are all dressed and ready to go, to not-so-subtly say you better drop trous and grab your ankles ASAP!  Fish around and find my stash of paper towels – never leave home without them (and baby wipes) – and take care of business in the darkness while the Tom’s gobble away…
 
Now I have to get dressed again and before you know it I am just minutes away from shooting time even after hot-footing it across the fields to my favorite tree on the edge of the woods to set up next to the field where they congregate.  These birds are around a 100 yards away and am not sure if they are on the ground or not but I go ahead and put out my B-Mobile (with an actual tail fan from last year’s harvest) and a hen decoy about 20 yards in front of where I plan to sit.  I sit down and realize I have a limited field of fire since the shrubbery has grown up since last year and have to trot back out to move the decoys 10 yards to my right and closer to the edge of the field where the Gobblers are going nuts in the woods.  I can discern the gobbles of at least three and maybe four birds in there with another four or more two fields behind me and closer to the landowners home – an area I dread hunting as it means I would have to hike a mile uphill back to my Jeep.  Que sera, sera…
 
As I sit there and throw a few box and slate call yelps at the Toms, I start to get excited as the enthusiastically respond, that is until I notice one of them sitting on a tree branch looking right at me and my decoys.  Son-of-a-_____!  He must have seen the whole thing.  How could I have missed him as he is a big one?  Still, we call back and forth at each other till he flies down and heads to an area back in the woods and away from me.  Realizing that there had been more than three Gobblers in that stretch of woods (I can hear two or three heading directly away from me and uphill) with another three gobbling and probably already strutting back in the woods, so I chose to pull up the decoys.  Leaving them behind, I head deeper into the woods and after the ones that sound like they are headed to a strut area I am familiar with.  This area has a lot of cover but there is also a path that runs the length of it and nearer them and then closer to the birds by the farm house which makes it easier.
 
As I am walking down the path I can see the past 12 months have brought down its share of trees as I have to fight my way through or around them.  And, as I approach the area I felt they were working I discover not one but two ground blinds!  WTF!!!  Was there someone in them?  Nope.  Were they left over from deer season?  I don’t think so as I see chairs in them through their openings and the roofs are clear of limbs and the like.  And, the kicker was the one was within inches of the barbed wire fence separating my benefactors property from his neighbor and the other was just another 20 yards away.  What a pisser but I still try and get closer to the birds only to find they are now down in the bottoms and on the neighbors side.  Seems my Dark Cloud has reared its ugly head…
 
Now the forecast had been for 15 to 20 MPH winds with gusts to 35 MPH but from what I could tell they were maybe 6 MPH or so which made hunting a lot easier and I could hear birds way back in the woods near the edge of the landowner’s property.  So I head after them!  By now the Toms were most likely strutting their tails off, either on the edge of the woods with the fields, or in an open area within the woods.  As I get to the farthest end I have a ground-pounder across the property line and up on the opposite ridge but in the neighbor’s field at least 120 yards away.  However, I get him fired up with a box call and he sounds very interested!  I find it ironic that I did not like to use this particular box call but he is really eating it up.
 
Yet, the question can I entice him (closer) out of the field he was in, enter the woods, travel down the ridge another 50 yards, cross a creek, through some fence and into range was a tough one.  I am no expert caller and in recent years have come to depend more and more on friction calls which means movement and is something you do not want to have much of when the birds get closer.  I usually carry four or more slate/aluminum/whatever types along with two box calls and sometimes one of those you mount on your gun barrel in addition to at least one mouth diaphragm but today these birds were truly responding to my one box call and within five minutes I can see this Tom enter the edge of the opposite woods and begin to strut where I can see he is a mature bird.  This went on for maybe five or ten minutes and he starts to walk downhill towards me!  Who said they only travel uphill when responding to a call…
 
Anyway, I am now really worried as there is the creek and a fence for him to get through before he can be within what I consider range (less than 30 yards) but as I watch him descend towards me, and he presents a target at 60+yards, I have to resist the urge to pull the trigger for even with 2 ounces of Hevi-Shot #6’s I cannot justify the risk.  So, as he disappears into the creek bed I throw another series of excited yelps and he immediately responds and sounds closer and to my left – he started out from my right.  But did he clear that property-line fence?  Another minute and I clearly hear him drumming in front and to my left.  I shift slightly so I can take the shot when he appears.
 
He keeps drumming and responding with double and even triple gobbles to my box call and I find it more and more difficult to limit my calling as I need him to search me out which goes against his genetics of the Hens coming to him.  So I listen as he continues to drum maybe 30 yards away as he moves from left to my right now but I still can’t see him!  The horrors, as I realize he is on a flat area that is on a drop-off just 20 yards away and in the open from the tree I had originally thought of sitting next to!  Yet, he continues to drum and respond excitedly to my yelps and clucks and I am sure he is going to pop his head up any second so I refrain from taking the risk of sneaking to the edge and taking a potshot at him as he struts back and forth.
 
We continue this seduction entrapment for at least another 20 minutes or more and I just keep expecting him to make that final mistake.  After all, I have enticed him from an open field and into the woods, down the woods into a ravine and across the creek at the bottom of that ravine, up it and through a fence to where he is no more than 30 yards away. He is now in a position where he expects that nymphomaniac Hen to drop down on all twos and accept his blessings but it is not to be as he eventually slips away to my right and back off the property.  I kick myself for not setting up on that other side and nearer that drop-off as I had considered it but felt having the height advantage of being on the opposite ridge from where he would come would be to my advantage.  If only I had taken into consideration my philosophy of being as aggressive as I can on Wild Turkeys no matter whether it’s the opener (as it was) or late in the season, as I would have chosen to be closer to where he started out than where I sat there with my piece in my hands. I have killed a lot of birds getting as close as I can and lost very few from getting too close…
 
I continued to hunt till 10 AM before heading back towards my Jeep. Yet, I seldom give up and worked the entire edge of the farm on the way back in the hopes that one of those birds from the first light would have returned mid-morning to where he had first started his day.  I took my time and would call every 40 or so yards, listen and then move on.  This took me well over 90 minutes and cost me a half a lung but I survived the uphill hike and was able to see the landowner and his wife to catch up before heading home and into the office.  Now they are a little older than me but I was shocked to hear how last year about the same time I was turkey hunting and fearing whether I would make it due to my own health issues, his wife was having open heart surgery to save hers.  We both had heart caths performed last year and while mine came out fine (too much stress it appears) hers resulted in surgery within 24-hours.  Folks, I am still not in good shape unless you consider pear shaped healthy, never exercise unless you consider carrying home the groceries, and still do not eat the right foods except for Panda Express but I find it amazing how I can still get out there while this woman exercises and diets, yet came close to dying from heart issues.  I guess genetics do count for something.
 
Well, it’s now Day 2 and after finishing my sausage biscuit, I was heading across the field fending off heartburn when I decided to play it safe and not commit to a head-on approach to the three Gobblers I could (once again) hear right where I first heard them yesterday.  There is a finger of woods that stretches out into the field from the woods where they roosted about 300 yards and I went around it and out of sight from them to a path at the edge of George’s Pond that leads back to them and adjacent to the property line – this is also nearer the strut zones they have used in the past.  Went past the two (spit!) ground blinds to make sure no one was in them and set up 50 yards deeper and slightly to the right of where the birds still roosted.  Got them fired up with the same box call as yesterday and began the game.  Now I could not see them (this time) but I could tell they were less than 100 yards away and boy were they responding!  After 15 or so minutes they began the fly down and I discovered to my horror that they flew across the ravine to the next property.  Those sons-of-a-____!
 
As yesterday, there were more Gobblers sounding off deeper in the woods and they sounded like they were across a major ravine which I dreaded having to cross but as it was either them, trespass, or go after some other birds I had heard WAY ACROSS the road on his other property.  I chose the birds deeper in the woods, but as I walk down the path through the woods, I begin to wonder if they might actually be closer and just maybe on this side of the ravine.  It wasn’t too long before I realized they were on my side, so I cut into the woods just off the path and made my calls which were greeted by at least one if not two Gobblers!!!  Unfortunately, while I am not too bad a woodsman, I fail to look up as much as I should and watched as three turkeys flew out of the trees directly in front of me at maybe 75 yards away but deeper into the woods and closer to where I battled the one nice Tom the morning before.  Oh, the agony!
 
Wait a minute, one Tom is still on the roost as I can now see him as I shifted my position and he doesn’t see me – yet!  Oh, the continued agony as I see him fly down with another four or so birds directly away from me and across the MAJOR ravine and into the next field.  Decision time – do I go deeper into the woods to where I had been the morning before and where I saw at least three (Hens) just fly towards, or, do I make my way towards this Tom and the probable hens he was with?  I gotta go with the Tom but do I head back the way I came (a very long walk) or do I chance a frontal approach which might include going up and down several ravines?  Call me a fool but I decide on the frontal…
 
Yep, it is a major ravine and that second pond is backed up with water towards where I came from so I still have to hike back east and then make my way up the moist soil of the steep ravine I just dropped into.  It was easy going down and I was able to walk down with some assistance from a stray branch or tree limb but now I have to make my way up!  I quickly scan the side for the easiest approach and after losing most of my other lung; I make it to the top only to discover ANOTHER ravine between me and the field where the Tom was strutting on the opposite side of!  I decide to get as close as I can for I can see him through the trees strutting across the field which is probably 100 yards wide.  And by keeping some trees, brush or whatever between me and him I am able to get closer and into position with a tree to rest against. I rest a bit and while doing so I decide the tree another 20 yards away and at the very edge of the final ravine is a much better shooting location as it affords a superior field of fire IF I can entice him across the field and to my side.  Now I cannot belly crawl as it would throw out my back for sure, so I get on my hands and knees and make my way to the tree – my shotgun in my left hand along with my striker and the box and friction call in my right hand and that is when my PowerAde quart bottle falls out of my vest.  As I cannot get it back into my vest, I am relegated to including it into my dirt parade.  Thank God no one video tapes me as I ground-juggle all five items as I crawl to my new ambush site…
 
Well, I make it there and we begin to trade more calls – me yelping like a Hen with her breast in a wringer and him with his tallywacker needing relief.  I can see him strutting but cannot be sure if he is alone or if he has hens or more Toms with him.  This goes on for another 20 minutes before he/they head down into the woods and to my left where they are either headed to the adjacent property or simply deeper into the last of the woods owned by my landowner.  In any case, I am losing them and even though I swore I WOULD NOT hunt that area as my Jeep was parked UPHILL nearly a mile away now, I had to go for it/them as they were the only ones I knew of still on his property and he/they sounded like nice ones!
 
Well, I use the land to my advantage and slide down into the ravine and then search for an easy way up.  Finding none, I make my way uphill slipping and a sliding for the next five to ten minutes as what is left of my lungs are bursting and wheezing.  Take a brief rest and just hope he/they haven’t deserted me as that would really piss me off!  Once I see the field is clear, I cross it and into the final woods on property I can hunt and then make a few yelps.  Whoa!  A different bird responds and he is all the way down this ravine and either in the bottoms or in the field at its edge.  His gobble is different from all the others I had heard the last two days and I couldn’t be sure if he was a Jake, Tom, or even if he was alone…
 
We began our battle royale after I chose my tree with me calling and him responding excitedly.  Every now and then I would go quiet and count to 120 or more before responding to him, as while I didn’t want to overcall, I certainly did not want to have him lose interest in me.  After 10 minutes and him not getting any closer, I decided to move to my right about 10 yards and downhill slightly so we can continue our courtship.  Still not sounding much closer, I moved down a little more and slightly more to my right.  Wait, is he closer I think to myself and realize he is and is now actually more to my right than where he started out.  And even though I still cannot see him, I am starting to believe he might be a nice one as he is playing it smart and waiting on the Hen to come to him and not letting his hormones, desire or curiosity gets the best of him.
 
And just then, I hear a deep gobble over to my right behind me in the field I had just crossed and closing!  Now the birds I had worked earlier had gone left of me and deeper into the woods I was now sitting in, so what was the stranger to my right?  My, oh my, he does sound like a Big Boy and here I am in the middle!  I could not have been in a better position as I have competing Gobblers with a faux sexy Hen in the middle – Me! Yet, I want that one in the bottoms as he and I have been at it for 20 minutes or so but that one behind me and to my right is getting closer.  Decision time – do I stay facing and focused on the one in the bottom or do a 180 and wait on the new arrival?  I decide the one behind me is getting closer and as I am now 20 yards into the woods and on the downward slope of the hill, I take the chance and get on the other side of the tree I am resting against.  I can always go back if my ravine-dwelling Tom decides to forsake his position but I have to go with the ones that are cutting the distance fast!
 
I am situated and ready for them to come from what was my right which is now my left when either they or another group gobbles 30 yards to my right (which had been my left while I was facing downhill – does that make sense).  Have I hit the trifecta with three gobblers surrounding me or have my new buddies pulled the “old let’s circle the Hen to see what we see routine?”  As I slightly shift again to ensure I have a clear field of fire and ready for any intruders two Toms enter my domain from the edge of the field just 35 yards away and they are magnificent!  I mean the woods and forest floor is starting to green up like Ireland and these two…no, make that THREE BIG Toms are coming at me all shiny black with their neon violet/red heads engorged with a sexual excitement that we humans can only dream of.  Unless you have been in my situation where you have seen Toms in the spring woods, I cannot find the words that will do them justice to describe their almost surreal beauty.  It’s as if George Lucas’s Industrial Light and Magic crew had created these creatures and placed them into our world.  And having them so close with bright sunlight peaking through just…well, it just makes your heart beat faster and you wish you could capture that moment forever so you could share it with others and relive it time and time again…
 
Now I like to have my birds close and as in waterfowl hunting (or deer), if they are coming towards you, let them come. And that is what I did as they entered the woods without a sound.  After popping a strut or two they started coming right at me!  Now I had to decide which one I wanted; one of the first two or was that third bird their daddy and the one I should target?  As I scoped them out down the rib on the barrel of my Winchester SX2, I had to go with the third bird as his beard seemed longer and fuller than the other two but only slightly so.  Many hunters will take their shots at distances I will not when it comes to turkeys.  I like mine within 15 or so yards and never consider anything over 30 but these birds were bunched up like Siamese triplets at 25 yards, so I had to wait till the third bird was safely to the side of the others and that was (now) going to be difficult as they headed one after the other right at me.
 
Oh crap!  I didn’t see that drop-off between me and them at about 25 yards.  “Would my Dark Cloud rain on our parade and let them slide down and out of my field of fire” where they would circle me I thought to myself as the first two disappeared leaving only a negligible shot at the third bird with only his head and shoulders visible above the grass between us. I debated this internally while my heart sank as he too disappeared from sight but seconds later his escorts popped up at 20 yards right down the barrel of my gun and he was right behind them!  Have you even shot three turkeys at once?  Of course not, that would be illegal but I bet you have dreamt of it and I was living the dream right then and there as I waited to get him in the clear.  Now I am dressed in a leaf camo and have had Hen turkeys actually walk over my outstretched legs in the woods before (I have pictures to prove it) but these birds sensed something was wrong as soon as they were in the open in front of me and began to putt-putt-putt and mill about ready to vamoose.  And that is when my opportunity evolved as he was in the stern and crested the drop-off just as his escorts putt-putt-putted to the right, so I pounced with two-ounces of #6 Hevi-Shot from my 3 1/2” shotshell!
 
Holy Guacamole Batman, did I screw up I began to scream inside as my target was nowhere to be seen through the after-blast as the one (or two) run off back into the woods the way they came and another takes flight in front of me, right from where I thought the one I shot had just been standing!!!!  Do I shoot the one beating its wings to escape the desired carnage I have tried to bestow upon my prey or…wait a minute, what is that flopping just over the edge?  As I force my aching body to rise from my ambush I am greeted with a BBD – a Big Bird Down!  And he is beautiful in the slits of bright sunshine cutting their way through the trees, what with his huge head still red and violet-white from his earlier anticipation of sexual congress to the blacks, browns, copper and gold’s of his feathered earthly remains.

As I turn him over and see the 10 3/4 inch beard (one strand) I am surprised to see spurs of just under an inch when I expected wall-hanging hooks.  However, he and the rest of the first season birds have created a memorable experience for me to relish over the time left me, someone who thought last season might have ended with search and rescue teams finding my remains in the woods but instead ended with a new found appreciation for life and the pursuit of the outdoors.  Yet, I am brought back to reality when I realize I am at the far DOWNHILL end of the farm.  However, after tagging him and taking the obligatory pictures, I decide to head towards the landowner’s home and leave my gear there before hiking the mile back to my Jeep.  And while I rested on his front porch hoping someone would drive by and offer me a lift, I share some of my experience online with a post at a couple of hunting sites. 
 
Finally, I grab the remaining PowerAde and take my time crossing the fields instead of walking along the roads only to see several locals drive by.  Hey, I can’t have everything I mean I am blessed with a generous friend who allows me to hunt his property, two mornings off from work where I see and work a number of Gobblers and then almost fill two tags on the same outing, which would have been one more than I legally could have!!!
 
This time my “Two for Tuesday” consisted of a two mile hike instead but you can still dream can’t you?