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The first week of the 2006 turkey season was a real success. Both Paul and I
were tagged out on nice birds and Kevin had a good bird from his double header with Paul on opening morning. So out of the
six tags we started with only one was left to fill. I called Kevin early in May and made arrangements for him to come up and
hunt his bird on another farm we had permission for. He booked the time and on May 10 we were in the field long before light
waiting on a real big mature gobbler I had scouted earlier in the season.
We were up at 3:30 am and on the road just before 4 am. After an hour drive we pulled into the farmer's lane, loaded up all
our gear and quietly crept up the moonlit trail. It was that time of day when everything is silent and the moon is shining
bright enough that you can walk very confidently without a flash light. It was a perfect morning to be turkey hunting and
both of us had good feelings about this one. We edged ever so slightly through the winding trails and came to a fence gap
where we set up. We chose this spot because it was a very central location to the entire farm. Having not put the birds to
bed the night before we were unsure which piece of timber they would be in. Either way we tucked ourselves in a heavily
overgrown fence bottom and were confident we could move if needed.
As darkness gave way to the slow moving light, the long awaited first crow sounded off. We listened intently but heard no
gobbles. We sat patiently hoping one would soon pipe up and after 15 minutes from the first call of the crow we finally heard
that soothing gobble. That gobble was followed up from the next tree and right after that the next tree further down lit up.
We had three gobblers competing for attention 250 yards in front of us. Everytime one would gobble the other two soon
followed. We remained quiet and offered no calls in return. After another 15 minutes had passed when we heard a mature
gobble from the other woods 350 yards behind us. After 15 minutes of listening we determined that the lone bird was a Tom
and the 3 competitors sounded like jakes. We decided to move but by this time there was enough light in the field we would
easily give away our cover. We studied our options and opted to wait for the 3 birds in front of us to come off the roost.
Within minutes they were on the ground and picking away in the alfalfa field. We waited till they were 250 yards out and
facing away and then we snuck 30 yards up our fence line, which put a small hill between us. Out of sight we crept 150 along
the fence towards the lone gobbler and set up again at four corners. We found our positions and began to call; we instantly
received an answer from our three jakes that were now about 400 yards away. We called back and forth for 15 minutes and they
answered every single time. We were upset not to get a response from the Tom we had moved closer too. After 15 minutes of
calling those three jakes couldn't handle anymore and realized that the anxious hen on the hill, which was us, did not seem
to be getting any closer. They began to walk right for us and with in 5 minutes closed the gap from 400 yards to 20. They
held up at 20 yards, which was just out of our sight over the hill. We offered a few very soft purrs and they came unglued.
Unable to handle their emotions they charged into our decoy and all stood around her not 10 yards in front of us. We both
chuckled to each other as all three circled her gobbling with all their might to show who was the boss. At one point all
three stopped, puffed up their chests, stretched out their necks and in unison gobbled. It was a real treat to watch and a
moment we really enjoyed. At this point they new the gig was up and quickly sprinted back to where they had come from.
By now we were convinced we had spooked the big Tom as we crept to the four corners. We waited 20 more minutes and decided to
move to the side of the woods that we had originally heard him gobble from. As we were crossing the open field where he was
suppose to be, I saw a red head 100 yards off coming through the over grown hay. We both hit the ground but it was too late,
he had already been watching us and soon disappeared. We couldn't help but think if we had waited just a few more minutes in
our set up he would have been our's.
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Discouraged we walked to the far end of the farm and set up a blind hoping to call something out of another piece of woods.
We began to call and instantly heard a response; unfortunately it was a bird across the road and not on our side. We called
back and forth for an hour but he never got any closer; he was a long way off. We were both hungry and decided to head to
the car and get some breakfast and come back in an hour and try to stir something up mid-morning.
We began our one kilometer walk back to the car and talked about what our strategy would be when we returned. As we
approached the spot where we had initially set up that morning, Kevin pulled out his crow call and let out a locator call.
He repeated the process 3 or 4 times as we walked. The fourth time we both stopped dead in our tracks and asked the
familiar question, "did you hear that?" Neither of us could be sure so he did it again and sure enough 500 yards away we
heard a muffled lone gobble. It was back towards our car and I had a pretty good idea where it was. We rushed across the
open hay field and set up at the base of a huge stump in the corner. The field we had just come across was behind us and
we were looking into the woods, which was only 100 yards wide until the road. Our first set up in the morning was across the
field in the opposite corner. We placed a hen and a Jake decoy 15 yards into the field behind us. We began to call and
instantly had a response; five minutes later the same thing. We realized he was across the paved road; breakfast was on
hold as we were going to call this guy across. We called every 10 minutes for 30 minutes and only heard from him 1 more
time. Slightly discouraged at this point we were convinced he was not going to cross. Having moved too early on our second
set up, we dared not move so we waited patiently and continued to call periodically. After a while we had lost hope and
were talking about the goodies we had waiting for breakfast. Minutes before we were about to move Kevin, in a loud whisper
yelled "turkey". I jerked my neck and we could see a magnificent fan on top of the hill in the field behind us. The top of
the fan was all we could see but at this point that was all we needed. It wasn't long before five hens and a Jake came over
the crest of the hill. As the birds came into full view they all stared at our decoys; with no response the hens put their
heads down and began to feed. The big Tom put on an amazing show as he strutted around each hen. From 200 yards away we
could easily see his thick long beard dragging in the clover. Once they had crested the hill they worked their way around
the top but never moved towards us. We began to call; each time some birds would look but none moved any closer.
We would call every few minutes trying to at least get a response or inch a hen closer but it all failed. They would not
budge from that spot. They kept the decoys in sight but made no attempt to close the distance. By now our necks were really
sore; Kevin's neck was cranked all the way to the right and I was leaning my head on his shoulder peering through the gap
between his head and the stump. We were quite a pair sitting there, unable to move with the decoys between the birds and us.
After an hour of calling and the birds not moving any closer, I suggested we stop and let them go over the hill, then we
could set up on them from another angle. Kevin was not convinced and tried something I had never heard of; he started to
strike his slate making a constant "cluck". After 5 minutes of constant calling I was sure he was going to scare the birds.
He persisted and the experiment was on. After 20 minutes of constantly striking his slate call the unlikely began to
happen. To my amazement the hens began feeding down the hill. One step at a time they inched closer and closer until
eventually all 7 birds were actually coming towards us. After an hour and a half without a response Kevin's crazy calling
method was doing the job. The huge Tom was following right behind but still not responded with a gobble. As they continued
to feed toward us I was still peering over Kevin's shoulder ranging everything I could. I had every possible option ranged
and was letting him know what weeds were in range. As the birds reached the half way point in the field we were getting
pumped. The tom's beard was huge and we were getting giddy at how this hunt went from frustrating to exhilarating in a
matter of seconds. As they closed the distance they started to veer off behind us instead of directly towards us. When
they hit the 60 yard marker Kevin could not turn his neck any more and I had to tell him what was happening. He was still
faithfully clucking on that slate and they continued to come in. When they hit the 50 yards mark I lost them, as the stump
obstructed my view. Neither of us could see them now but we knew they were getting close. Kevin passed off the call and I
carried on with the crazy constant calling. We listened as the hens clucked and purred knowing they were getting within
range. The lead hen suddenly appeared at the 40 yard marker and carried on into the thirty. When all 5 hens had closed the
gap to 35 yards we knew the Tom had to be close. Kevin's gun was still facing the woods from the earlier gobbler across
the road and he needed to do a complete 180-degree turn to shoot. We were nervous as the hens were all around our decoys;
we had birds all over us but no idea where our gobbler was. We knew it was just a matter of time before the hens realized
our decoys were fake so Kevin finally shifted a few inches and caught the wiley old long beard in the corner of his eye.
He whispered he was in range but was looking right at us as we were still calling. We decided I would let out a loud crazy
hen call with the mouth diaphragm hoping to distract the bird long enough to give Kevin enough time to turn and shoot. At
the count of three, I let out one loud, sharp zany call and as I did the old turkey let out a thundering gobble. With his
neck fully stretched out and gobbling at the top of his lungs he never noticed Kevin who, in one fluid motion jumped to
his feet, swung the gun and fired. The loud boom over powered the gobble and Kevin sprinted out to his flopping bird with
me trailing only a few feet behind him. After reaching the big Tom and ensuring he was dead we hugged, laughed and shouted
with joy and just for good measure repeated the process again. We were two happy guys in the middle of a hay field with
one well deserved turkey.
We spent 30 minutes enjoying the moment, studying the bird and replaying our version of the hunt. It was an incredible
moment and one we are both very proud of. Kevin's ability to think outside the box and our patience earned us a great
turkey; a few kinks in our neck but most importantly, memories and picture's that will last us a lifetime. It seems the
constant calling kept the hens close as they were intrigued at what was just inside the tree line, unfortunately for them
it was two brothers who love to hunt!
When talking with Kevin after the hunt about his crazy calling, he told me that just the week before,
had a hen do the very same thing as she walked into his decoy. He said she carried on like that for quite some time so when
that Tom hung up, this event came back to his mind. And it sure paid off in a big way!
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