This year’s spring gobbler season was full of highs and lows for me and my hunting partners. We had a few excellent outings with some youth hunters in the beginning of the season, and our confidence was high for filling our own tags. One of our goals at the outset of the season was to video tape one of us harvesting a gobbler with a bow. But as the season wore on, the birds got tight-lipped and we knew it was going to be tough to harvest a gobbler period, much less be lucky enough to do it with a stick and string and get it all on camera.
AJ and I tried a few duel calling sequences during our hunts; AJ spent a lot of time behind the video camera this season.
Had we been toting shotguns, AJ and I would have harvested nice toms about half-way through the season. However, both of these wise old birds circled behind our position and strutted safely out of bow range. Instead of sending them to the ground with a well-placed arrow, all we did was give them a good education about avoiding hens that make a lot of noise, but never show themselves.
I think AJ and I are pretty patient when it comes to hunting tough toms, but as the last three days of the season were upon us, we were getting desperate. As we headed home after another disappointing morning of empty fields and silent birds, I declared that it was time to try some ‘old school’ tactics on the local flocks. Tomorrow, we’d leave the bows, blind, and decoys behind. It was time to break out the shotguns. I hated to do it, but desperate times call for desperate measures!
Solid black is the best camo for hunting inside of ground blinds; AJ does his best to coax a gobbler to sound off.
Fortunately, a good friend of ours had been continually seeing a nice gobbler strutting in a field not far from his house. Although the area frequently receives heavy hunting pressure, this wily old bird somehow kept eluding the droves of hunters pursuing him. AJ and I decided we were up for the challenge, and the next morning, we were tucked along the edge of the field well before dawn.
As rays of sunshine lit the plowed field, a lone hen pitched from her roost and began feeding in the freshly turned soil. I was pretty happy to have a live decoy in the field to lure the old tom, and I figured it was only a matter of time before he showed himself. But after a couple of hours, the gobbler was still absent and the hen had disappeared, along with any shred of confidence we had left in our set-up. It was time to move and there were only a few other spots the old bird could be feeding. Traveling light meant we could cover a lot of ground quickly, and we headed for another field where the gobbler had been seen in the past.
AJ catches some shut-eye while we wait on a stubborn bird; My hiding spot on the edge of a plowed field.
As we approached the second field, AJ caught sight of fanned tail feathers about 300 yards away. The big gobbler was strutting with a jake and there were no hens in sight. We eased into position beside an old white oak. At first we were unsure how to coax the call-shy bird, but the lack of hens gave us added confidence. AJ tried a few high-pitched yelps on his glass call and the birds turned toward our position. A series of excited cuts produced a thundering gobble and the birds headed our direction. As the birds trotted toward us, I remember thinking, “This is almost too easy!” As it turns out, it was.
I held that position for what seemed like hours; This big tom was well worth the wait!
After the birds had closed the distance to about 100 yards, I figured it was time to take my gun off safe. Being more concerned with excess movement than making too much noise, I “popped” the safety switch to the fire position with my index finger. Popped is a generous term, because the sound the safety made might has well been a hammer blow against an empty steel drum. As you might have guessed, the echoing noise did not go unnoticed by the approaching gobblers, who promptly sprinted for the edge of the field, and I assumed, out of our lives forever!
I was pretty happy that our season ended on a high note!
AJ had other plans, however, and just before the birds disappeared into the brush, he cut loose with a series of yelps, purrs, and cuts that probably would have won him an award at a national calling contest. I say this not to brag about his calling (I wouldn’t want to give him a big head), but to emphasize that without some fast action on his part, the hunt would have been over. Luckily, the ploy worked, and rather than fleeing the scene, the birds simply froze and stared in our direction.
AJ and I with one of the toughest birds we’ve ever hunted
Like I said before, I consider myself to be a pretty patient hunter. But I’m not sure if I was prepared for what would happen next. You guessed it, absolutely nothing. With the gobblers standing well out of shotgun range, all we could do was wait them out. And from their perspective, there was no reason to move considering they knew the hen calling from the edge of the woods would step into the field at any moment. As they both stood motionless, studying the tree line where we were hiding, I could feel the muscles in my arms starting to burn. Over the next 45 minutes, I experienced everything from all of my limbs falling asleep to shaking convulsions that I was sure would give us away. But through it all, the gobblers held their ground.
That’s me headed for home with the hefty gobbler.
I’m not sure whether it was simple curiosity or shear boredom that got them to move again, but when they did, the birds started stepping our way. I can’t say walking, because at first, they would take no more than two steps at a time and then they would stop and stare. This went on for another 15 minutes or so, but eventually, they were almost within range. AJ, who swears he never fell asleep while we were waiting, was wide awake and tracking the birds with the video camera. I wanted to make sure we got some good footage, so I let the birds approach to about 20 yards. At AJ’s signal, I settled my front bead on the big gobbler’s wattles and pulled the trigger. The bird collapsed and I sprang from the trees, stumbling badly as blood rushed back into my aching legs.
The old tom weighed 23lbs. and sported a 9” beard and 1” spurs.
AJ and I spent the next half hour celebrating and retelling our version of the hunt. It was one of the toughest gobblers we’d ever hunted and it was nice to finally come home with a bird. When we got back to AJ’s and put the gobbler on the scales, I never would have guessed that it weighed over 23 pounds. Its beard measured 9 inches and the spurs were each an inch long. It was a great ending to a long season and we were both ecstatic with the harvest. And although it was a little tougher than we expected, we wouldn’t have had it any other way!
