After working all weekend, I was ready to get after it again the next Wednesday. And with two birds down and the holiday weekend looming, I knew I didn’t have along leash to hunt as I was headed north with the family late Friday morning. The plan was to hunt with my dad Wednesday through Friday mornings, with some mixed in afternoon hunts if I could get away.
The first morning we wake up and get on the road before 4am to get out to our spots by 5am. The game plan was to have my dad sit in the far corner where I’ve seen birds fly down in the past, and I would go listen about 500 yards from him above the creek and adjust to where I might hear any gobbling. And walking out to our spots, the entire creek valley was booming with gobbles.
With turkeys seeming everywhere, I set up about 75 yards from the closest gobble, between a handful of turkeys farther away. A few light calling and answering, and I stay quiet as I can hear a handful of birds fly down in the distance. Waiting and waiting. Nothing coming. No scratching, drumming, spitting or calling.
After about an hour of sitting and nothing to show for it, and no shots from my dad, I thought I’d get up and check the fields around me for birds. Nothing behind me towards my dad, and nothing in the adjacent field. The property then transitions to cattle pasture and a drainage ditch before transitioning back into ag fields. Looking towards the ag field in the distance, there they are. A total of three toms, nine jakes, and ten hens work their way through the field and eventually out of sight. My dad had a couple come close towards the end of the morning, but end up working their way off the property. We end up heading in after the my dad’s close call and plan on getting out the next morning.
Thursday morning we had a similar plan. Except I was putting my dad close to where those turkeys came out past the cattle pasture, while I worked along the creek again. This morning was a complete change from the prior. I can only hear distant gobbles, so I work towards them and figure out a setup in the creek bottom. The issue I run into is that the gobbling is all on the other side of the creek on another piece of property. Then, a couple gobbles towards the corner where I had my dad sit day before, and they are only a couple hundred yards away. But I know they are going to pitch down towards the field and find their hens immediately. I frantically try to get up to the field edge, only to see two toms with a couple hens, chasing them to the middle of the field.
There is a trail that runs down towards the drainage between the two ag fields through the cattle pasture that I thought they’d be running towards, so I tried to do the same. Except I need to take the creek bank, and this is the same THICK creek bank I had crawled through the week prior. As I’m raising all sorts of hell trying to get through the thick creek bank, I pop my head up every so often to check on the birds, and they are still coming. Except the last time I check. I see only one bird and he seems to be scurrying away from me. They must’ve heard or even seen enough to get spooked and ducked out. Sticking to the plan, I finally make my way to the corner, crawl through the long grass, and take a peak to see what I can see. Sure enough, I only see the one tom, and he is 340 yards away in the opposite tree line.
Well there is only one thing to do: try to call him in or catch his attention. I grab the glass call and light off a few yelps and cuts. He pops his head and takes a minute to think about it, and starts to make his way towards me. I crawl into position and get ready, as I can’t see the entire field. Only a few minutes pass with one unprovoked gobble, and one quick sequence of cuts, and I see him pop his head over the lip of the field. In only about three minutes, he’s within 30 yards from me. I pull the trigger and my turkey season is over.
He had about a 12 inch beard with a little less than inch spurs. Just an incredible hunt to cap off an incredible season. God surly is an awesome God and I cannot believe how his blessings pour over me every day.
Wisco Pete 
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