It’s now a little after 0930, on the third Saturday of KY Spring Gobbler Season. I’ve been tagged out for a little more than 2 hours. I woke this morning with the expectation of not even hunting. The heavy storms started around midnight with high winds, driving rain, thunder, lightning and several bouts of hail. I was listening to thunder when the alarm went off at 0430. The skies lifted long enough at 0530 that I suited up and told Supercore I was making a dash for Midway. The way it was thundering, I was fairly sure I was going to get caught in it, but everything held off until I was in my chair with my rain suit off and my feet up. There were intermittent showers. In between dozing, I tried calling with a Toby Benoit Rebel Yell box call. It is a small, high-pitched high-volume call that has kept its sound in damp conditions. I awoke with a start just before 0700 with a sound coming from over by the county road that sounded like heavy furniture falling off the back of a truck. That elicited a gobble from down in left leg creek to my north and west. I did not think much of it, but I cranked the box a little just in case.
A bit later, I saw a hen feeding out about 50 yards from my blind. I threw some clucks and purrs at her and she acted highly unimpressed. I poured my first cup of coffee and settled back to check on the progress of the impending storm. Weather Underground has a very useful app for Android. It has one quirk that I find humorous. When I’m on the front porch at camp, it tells me I am in Brownings Corner. In the back of the house, it registers as Klibat. From the Honey Hole, it tells me I’m in Berry, Kentucky and 200 yards away at Midway it invariably tells me I’m in Milford. None of them are right, mind you. However, I find it funny how Weather Underground interprets the vagueries of the Greater Browningsville Metroplex. WU told me I could expect rain at any time. I took a sip of coffee and saw another hen was now in the field. I threw a call her way. She went into a strut.

Dang! That was no hen. The gobbler emerged from the unseasonably tall grass and put down his plumage. My guess is he was the source of the one lone gobble and been on way to me when he got sidetracked with the hen. The hen was now about 40 yards out. The gobbler was trying to split the difference and edged close to my corner of the field. I think he noticed the barrel coming out of the shadow just before I lit him up.
While he finished twitching, I finished my coffee and started packing up. After last year’s traumas, I kept a wary on the carcass. However, there was nothing to fear. He dropped and stayed down. He was a compact bird with 5/8ths spurs and a ten-inch beard. The hen walked over and took a look at him flopping about and then went back to feeding.
When I did make a break back to the house, it was lively. There were thunder and lightning all the way in, and the while I was dressing the bird. I slammed the lid on the freezer and came back out to the shooting bench and found 3 gobblers courting hens out in front of Fountain Square about 200 yards out from the porch. For a moment, they caught my movement and came to attention in profile, looking like the Three Stooges before going back to feeding.
I expect SuperCore will be in soon. Angus was tired from work and slept in. He’s driving out this afternoon for a PM hunt and then will go out tomorrow morning.

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