It was a little over a year ago that I trudged out with a bird. The Cancer was back. I was starting Chemo in a few weeks. That might have been my last hunt. Here it is, a year later. The Cancer is gone. I’m still a little rocky from all the poison they shot in my veins, but I was determined to take a bird. Normally, going out to the Honey Hole, I’d have a tag or two filled by the end of April. Usually, I’d have at least one bagged the first week. This year? 16 days of hunting. I was into my last weekend. The birds had been giving me the cold shoulder.
The Chemo put a sincere hit on my kidneys and bone marrow. The doc is pleased with my progress, but the marrow affects all my blood values. It’s like trying to run a power screwdriver on old batteries. They never quite make it to full charge. I get a limited amount of work done, and then they’re spent and take a long time to recharge. Out of a 22-day season, I hunted 16 days. Occasionally I would have to go back to town to rest. When I stayed, I would usually nap at the blind, nap again when I made it in and then nap the better part of the afternoon. It worked, but it was no way to have a fun hunt. I thank the Good Lord and my own cussedness for making it through.
This AM was about the same as always. I had been sticking to the Honey Hole, because I knew I could make the half-mile to the blind and back. I’d had bad luck, but there were usually birds around. They had been turning up their noses at me. Moose and Angus had both gotten nice birds before me. My look was bound to change, but it was looking like time was going to run out. I got a modest response to my calls at flydown, but by sunrise +30, I was alone and decided to take a nap. I awoke an hour later at 0820 and got the barest hint of interest from a bird that sounded to be well to the south of me, perhaps off the back end of the property. About the only call he would honor was my old Quaker Boy Easy Yelper push-pin call. I grabbed that and a mouth call and took off to follow him.
Back at that end of the farm, I have the Honey Hole, then 200 yards of pasture, a tree line with my deer blind at Midway, and then another 200 yards of pasture. The gobbler was well past all that, but he honored my calls when I came past Midway. I immediately settled in against a tree, about 10 yards from Midway and called again. He was coming.
I eventually saw him break out into the pasture and start shutting. It took another 10 minutes for him to make it all the way down. When he tried to negotiate the barbed wire at the edge of the field, I took him with a shot at 10 yards.
He went 19 lbs with a 10-inch beard and 3/4-inch spurs. I tried to schlep him back, but I got 2/3 of the way to the Honey Hole and gave up. I left him and the gear and walked back to the cabin, grabbed the truck, and drove out to retrieve him and my gear.
It is now afternoon. The bird is breasted and resting comfortably in the freezer. There is still one more day left to season, but the forecast is for thunderstorms starting at 0400 and lasting the rest of the day. I am spent, but I think I will do what I can to get packed and get on the road. I am long overdue for the recliner.
