This is Earth. Scratch One Gobbler
I did not make a podcast this morning. There was not all that much to hear. On the other hand, this morning ended up being about as perfect a hunt as I am going to have in this life. It all began yesterday. When I got here to open up Turkey Camp, there was a gobbler and hens out in the yard. From noon until sundown they were out there. I had to be careful coming out the door or walking around the side of the house. I knew it was the same gobbler that kept showing up because he had a distinctive break in his tail feathers.
When happy hour started, they were still at it. The gobbler had moved off about 400 yards and was in a pasture that was partially hidden by trees. I heard him fly up not long after. He gobbled on the roost several times before dark. I knew where he was, about 300 yards or so from the Honey Hole.
That is where I went this morning. It was as warm an Opener as I’ve seen here in Bracken County. I had moonlight guiding me this morning. I got out extra early because I knew I would have to walk past that gobbler on my way to my blind at Honey Hole. I crawled in with about 15 minutes to go before legal hunting.
When I heard gobblers sounding off on nearby ridges, I tried some tree calling with the Shamanic MK I box call. Often times that is enough to get the closer gobblers to betray themselves. Not this morning. Dead air. After the whipporwill folded tent, the area around Honey Hole was as quiet as I have ever heard. Nothing.
After pretty much opening my kimono and letting loose with every call I had that morning, I went back to the box. It’s a dark, raspy call. It is very un-henlike. However, I have found gobblers seem to be particularly entranced with this homebrew Big Mama call. I did a few excited yelps and got one lackadaisical response from the gobbler roosted in the Cedars to my north– the gobbler I’d put to bed last night. He did not sound interested. I was losing interest now. It was shaping up into one of those days where the action was not going to start until late morning.
I was prepared already for that eventuality. My scouting trips had been pretty much a zero every time out. However, long after I’d given up and turned off the digital audio recorder, I’d usually start to hear action. It has been an odd year in that way. I had brought my tablet, and was just beginning to read a memoir of the Marine Commander at Belleau Wood– had not made it a full page– when I heard what sounded like a helicopter in the distance behind my left shoulder.
It was a low subsonic drone. At first, I did not think anything of it. However, it came again and this time it had a distinct “fffft” sound preceding it. If I had never heard a gobbler spit and drum before, I would have missed it. As it was, I knew there was a strutting turkey approaching fast and close.
The gobbler appeared in the pasture just as I got the shotgun off the ground and began to swing it over the top of the burlap blind. He was already past me as I got the scope up to my eye and began to swing his way. He caught the movement and knew there was a problem. He turned about and walked straight into my sight picture. I leveled him at twenty yards with one shot. It was 0700, a couple of minutes before sunrise and less than a half-hour into season. I put down the shotgun and pulled out my walkie-talkie.
“This is Earth. Scratch one gobbler.”
I knew immediately that this was the gobbler hanging around the house yesterday. He had a broken tail feather that made a break in his fan. He was a 22lb mature bird with spurs that went to 7/8th an inch and a 10-inch beard.
After making sure the bird was dead, I returned to the blind and began packing up. I had not had any coffee, so I poured myself a cup, and took my time collecting my gear. At 0730 another close shot came from over my left shoulder. This was Angus taking his bird.
He had mixed it up with a big mature bird, who had flopped down from the roost and gone silent. He stayed where he was at the big rock pile on Gobbler’s Knob and kept calling. Three jakes showed up and began to pester his jake decoy, ignoring the hen decoys entirely. Angus shot the jake with the largest beard and that convinced the others to leave. We came out minutes apart.
SuperCore went to the Jagendehutte and saw three hens out in the field. There are two birds in the freezer and it is not yet noon on The Opener. This is turning into a good season.
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I’m sitting in a blind right now. I haven’t heard a bird since my father harvested his at around 7:30. Congrats on your bird! I sent you an email wishing you and your crew good luck yesterday, it must have paid off. God bless.
Best of luck to you. I’ll go out now and shake my rattle your way.