Monday morning Devon and I headed out to the finger where I had heard gobbles the night before. We got there right on time and settled in for a bit and knew we had to be aggressive as I could only hunt until about 10:00 as I had to go back, pack up and head back to Indy to catch my flight and make a mandatory stop. Devon started a calling sequence and after a few minutes we got two distinct gobbles back. Both of them were down below us and quite a bit apart. I had tweaked my knee earlier in the week (before hunting) and was not looking forward to dropping down the very steep, briar filled hillside but it had to be done. Down we scrambled. At the bottom we crossed a small creek and step up on the edge of a good sized hay field. Calling again only got one response this time. The response came diagonally across the field and what seemed like slightly uphill. We high tailed it that direction, having to cross the creek again. Once we were up the hill about 100yds Devon hit the call again and got an instant gobble back pretty close. Heading that direction we came across an old logging road running the same direction. Around the first bend everything went to poo........we heard another gobble CLOSE .......and saw a guy set up on the logging road between us and the bird. He must have dropped off the hill after we had when he heard us going back and forth
That was a real bummer as the bird couldn't have been more than 50 yds past him. We backed out and headed back across the hay field to try and raise a response from the other bird we had heard. We sat down knowing this was our last chance and hit the calls. Nothing came back so we wait for 10-15 minutes and gave it a shot. This time we got a really rasping hen response from the direction we had come from. Excitement turned to disappointment as into view came the guy we had seen up on the hill. He was on his way out. He walked directly at us and then stopped to chat. This is where it really hurts. Come to find out the gobble we were getting wasn't from A bird it was a group of 4 Jakes. He had them at 20 yards for quite a bit but HE wasn't interested in a Jake .....SMFH I would have shot anything with a beard as I have not taken one yet. To add insult to injury as we sit there a BIG gobble pops off toward the end of the hayfield somewhere. As our eyes sparkle the "dude" crushes me once more......that one was a CAPTIVE turkey the landowner the abuts the end of the hayfield keeps in a pen right on the edge of his property. #$$%%@$%@$%!!!
That sealed the deal on my chances. Devon and I had to head straight up hill through the briars to get to the car. In the car, tired and sweaty, I assured Devon what a good time it had been despite the lack of a dead bird. Back to the cabin for a quick shower and I was off to Indy. Before I headed to the airport I had to make a mandatory stop. This place is on my home Eastside and opened just before I was born. I have literally been eating their incredible products since I was old enough to leave the house

They have a full range of baked goods from cookies to cakes to bread to pastries to pretzels.....every single thing amazing. They also have an adjoining shop selling all things German. The owner and master baker, Jurgen Jungbauer, arrived in Indy originally as a draftee (foreign nationals in the US more than 6 months at the time were subject to draft) assigned to For Harrison in 1966. JJ is an icon
http://heidelberghaus.com/index.php?l=l_home.php&r=r_cafe_menu.htm
Satisfied, I headed to the airport. I checked in and waited in the USO until it was time to fly. For some reason, this trip more than any I have had, I really got sad about leaving home. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE CO, but Indiana is simply a large portion of who I am. Every year when this is played at the start of the 500 (no matter where I am) I stop, sing quietly and get a little misty (having spent so much time away makes it mean that much more).....https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7wcgaRkHAWY