The alarm didn't get a chance to sound off Sunday morning, as I woke up 15 minutes before schedule. Driving out, the temp read 43 degrees, with a nice little breeze keeping things a little "brisk" and fresh.
Walking in, I saw the familiar bouncy white flags of blowing, escaping whitetails, and strained to hear turkey talk in the pre-sunrise morning. Reaching the ag field that history would predict a flydown from the lakeside treeline, I scanned the field for any signs of decoys, and was a bit surprised to find none. The dozen birds waited until 10 minutes before sunrise to flydown and put their feedbags on, scratching and picking and generally horsing around with each other.
Two strutters (or perhaps I should say partial strutters) were with the hens. I mention the partial strutters, as one bird had a couple of gaps in his fan, much like a six year old with missing teeth, and the other tom just wasn't feeling a need to strut much, as perhaps his fan was in need of some turkey fan Viagra. These birds loafed in the corner for over 45 minutes, drifting gently in each ordinal direction, but they seemed to remain at the maximum shooting distance or more from the field's edges. Moving into the sunshine and away from the tree's shadows, I had hope that this flock would drift west, and then north, where I planned to put local knowledge of this flock's pattern of movement against itself.
In the next photo, taken a couple of weeks ago, my bird is the one with the gapped fan, shown where he liked to hang out, and only a few yards away from where I shot him......
With the flock more than a quarter mile away, I felt confident that I could sneak out to the edge of the field, and tuck my hen decoy into a small gap in the trees, to simulate a hen leaving the ag field, and heading into the adjacent woods. I intentionally put her in a lower spot on the fields edge, as I knew that decoys had been both a draw and a deterrent to turkey behavior/approaching field edges. Gobbling sounded off every so often, and hen talk drifted up the hill to where I has nestled myself into the middle of a cedar tree.
After some time, the flock headed west, and then began to angle up the hill towards my location. The lead hen kept 80 yards off the treeline, and entered the cut sorghum and disappeared from view. It took the toms more than 10 minutes to make it up to the sorghum, and then they both disappeared from my view. Using the binoculars to look through the cedar branches, I could see one of the toms throw up his fan from time to time, or periscope his red neck high above the sorghum stalks. Further up the hill, another fan would flash into view sporadically, so it seemed that my quarry was located less than 200 yards away from me.
Periscope up, then down. Move a few yards, repeat with the periscoping head. Fan up, and it was obvious the tom I was seeing more often was the gapped-fan tom. I haven't called all season using the box call, so to shake it up a bit, I pull it out of my pack. Barely scratching out a "sotto voce" yelp, I thought that I had the periscoping tom's attention. Now it seemed that I was seeing his head more often, I waited. 10 minutes later, I waited for the wind to die down for a moment, and hit the box call once again.
Now I hoped that the tom was headed towards the treeline....... and then I lost him. A fan was seen much higher up the field, and then a couple of minutes later I was watching a fiery red head for sure heading my way. Pushing my 12 gauge through the tree limbs, much like a sniper would put just the muzzle through a hideout opening, I lined up my shot, and consciously pushed my cheek hard down on the stock. Just as began to squeeze the trigger, a leafy branch waved with the next wind gust, destroying my view of the bird/bead confluence. Trusting that my aim was true, and he hadn't moved in the microsecond of eyesight blockage, I continued to squeeze the trigger.
At the report, I saw multiple heads pop up from the sorghum stalks, and one bird attempting to fly. Emerging from my hideyhole in the cedar, I saw that he was flopping with a bit of purpose still in his body. I hustled out to place my boot on his neck, and reached for my phone to send out a "victory" text. After texting, and realizing that my boot work was done, I reached down into my cargo pocket to reach for my wallet so that I could complete my tag info and afix it to his leg. RUHROH!! No wallet. Changing into my camo, I must have failed to transfer the wallet, and thus I was a thirty minute walk away from my tag for this bird.
Taking the bird back to the treeline, I loaded up my pack, and strung up the bird on the carrying sling. I intentionally unloaded my shotgun as I didn't want to be tempted to have a go at some gift turkey found on my way back to the SUV, as having a delayed tagging for one bird was bad enough, I didn't want to have two such birds.
3 million pounds of kansasdad/turkey/gear was a little hard to push back to the SUV. At least I felt like that is how much I was walking out with by the time I got back, and found that indeed my wallet was on the backseat. Proper tagging completed, I then went to look for a spot to memorialize this fine turkey.
I still have my second spring tag, so I will get back to hunting business in a couple of predicted rainy days and letting the turkey woods settle down.