Calling to Hens

Here are some tips and tricks to think about when dealing with hens.

Remember when you were a kid and somebody started repeating everything you said? Made you mad, didn’t it?

If you listen to birds, not just turkeys, exact repetition seems to be the thing that triggers an aggressive response. My guess is that it comes from deep down in the brain. If you hear back exactly what you’re sending out, it makes you mad. I can be sitting out back in the morning, sipping my coffee and see this played out. Little bird comes and lights down on a branch and chirps. Some distance off, some other bird calls back. The two get into a calling match and before you know it, the two are scrapping and pecking at each other and finally one of them has to fly off.

The key to making it aggressive, if turkeys are like all other birds, is to come back right away– even walk on the other hen’s calls, and give her exactly what she’s laying on you. If there is a delay in honoring the hen’s call, what you’re saying is that you understand the hen’s out there and that you’re giving her a pass to walk on through as long as she keeps her distance. With no delay in the response, you’re telling her you are willing to fight.

Now, this may or may not be a good idea. What I mean to say is that if you call that other hen out and she’s not in the mood to fight, she may make a wide arc around you or even turn around and go the other way. She’s sizing you up on your disposition, and capabilities. She’s also got to figure in her own capability. All this she’s trying to cypher out of your call.

I’ve seen folks make fun of other folks that talked about “henned-up ” turkeys. It’s for real. There really is a phenomenon like that. And busting through this problem can be insurmountable given the turkey hunter’s ability to dissect the problem and make the right call to respond.

I will offer another way; I’m not all that good a caller. I admit that I’ve gotten into this situation and said something to the hen and 40 yards off, she’s turned around and gone off in another way, leaving the gobbler 60 yards back in the woods never coming close. In fact just about every time I try and pull one of these fancy tricks, I end up getting a lesson in the folly of pride.

What I like to do is offer up the disappearing hen trick. First, I show that I’m ignoring the other hens. I make calls that show I can’t hear the other hen. This is easier than trying to match her. In essence, I’m transmitting a scenario where there is no communication going on. I don’t mean saying “I don’t hear you!”– like a taunt. I mean calling like you just don’t hear the other hen. Then, I start feeding a little. Clucks, purrs, and scratching. If I have somebody along, I have them cluck and scratch too. We’re just a couple of little hens, out enjoying our morning meal. The opposing hen will then have to call to tell us she’s coming, and warn us of her approach. We continue feeding like we don’t hear her. She comes closer. We shut up. “Poof!” We’re gone. Did we run off? Were we scared off? Did we just go behind a fold in the land where she doesn’t hear us? Silence.

The hen comes though, looking for us. The gobbler comes trailing behind. a few minutes later.. . Boom!

At least that’s the theory. It works once in a while. I called one in for SuperCore last season that way. The point is that this method might be better way to go if you’re just a beginner and can’t do all the fancy calling.

None of this is infallible. It’s kind of like you are in a strange country, where everyone speaks a strange language. All you hear are noises with no meaning. They know what they’re saying to each other, but you don’t. Somehow you’ve got to make the right noise that will get one of these strangers to come over and look at you.

This all kind of reminds me of the time my buddy came by at 2 AM with an ice pick. John was a WWII vet. He had been in the Bulge, and had a pretty gnarly time of it. Once in a while he’d go a little nuts. One night, he had been drinking heavily at the Vernon Manor and got it in his head it was 40 years ago and he was stuck behind enemy lines. He spent a good part of the evening sneaking around Walnut Hills and Clifton Heights trying to evade capture on his way back to his own lines.

Somewhere in the middle of this, he decided he was starting to sober up and needed to find a bar. Of course he was behind the lines, so everyone spoke German, right? He goes into the bar and walks up to the bartender.

“Scotch, bitte.” ( Scotch, please.) He says to the barkeep, who he thinks is a kraut. The bartender thinks he hears him right and serves him Scotch and bitters. John tries it and nearly throws up on the bartender. A fight ensues. John spies an ice pick on the bar and grabs it. Luckily everyone left him alone and he was able to escape the bar before the police or the Gestapo or whatever showed up. For some reason he figured my place was safe and he eventually showed up there with this wild story.

I guess I’ve strayed pretty far from the subject, but it was a good story, and I hope you get the point. None of this is a for-sure thing. . . You may think you’re sounding like a sexy hen, but to the turkeys you may be coming off like a drunk in the bushes with an ice pick.

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