Another fall turkey season comes to a
close today with me still holding onto my tags. It is not for lack of effort
nor is it the fault of my crooked shooting eye. I had a very good chance to
fill my tags on Tuesday afternoon. The day was sunny and bright with the leaves
of autumn in full brilliance. I had not been walking more than 5 minutes when I
noticed a flock of turkey just over a hill.
I took advantage of a tree line to
sneak up on the birds, who were feeding on an abundance of grass hoppers. It
went so well that I was surprised to find myself within thirty yards of them.
My quandary was my next move. If I were to shoot into the tightly grouped flock
I would have a good chance of exceeding the limit. I began to point my gun to
the outside of the group to locate an individual tom. That one motion brought
up a lot of wary heads. For a second I was stared down by some twenty turkeys
that assessed the situation of inconvenient interruption. All of them began to
run as if the ground was on fire.
It is impossible to out run a turkey
(I know). I raised my gun to take a breakup shot. The turkey hunting ‘bible’
says that if you shoot to the side of a flock they will break up. The birds
will become disoriented and eager to regroup. Then said hunter merely needs to
find a spot near them and talk nicely to one. Let me tell you how that worked
out, for me. The sound of the gun sent them all into the air. A second shot
prompted a very eager escape and turkeys were going in three directions. All is
good so far, but wait.
I followed a group that landed in a
small wood lot close to the shore French creek. I selected a spot to sit and
secure a nice meal for November. I could hear birds talking in the woods with
loud yelps. This was going to be a piece of cake. I worked my mouth call to
sound like an old hen. Two birds responded immediately. I turned in their
direction and noticed a hen sitting on the opposite bank of the creek. She was
watching me and began to compete with me. As good as I thought that I sounded
it was no match for the real thing. The birds closest to me went silent.
Two toms swooped in from the wood lot
(over the cattails) to land in separate oak trees, to listen and to watch. Now
I had been outflanked by what people call stupid turkeys. More calls came from
a hill covered in brush some 100 yards away. “I’ll just sneak in near the edge
of that brush and call, one of them will comply.” I began my crawl and the hen
across the creek took flight and landed into the cattails on my side of the
creek. Sitting near to brush I could hear at least three birds pleading for
some company. I no more than got three yelps out and that hen sounded off
loudly! She was determined that no one from her group was going to go home with
me.
There has never been a time when I
was so close to so many birds and unable to see them. Yelps were still coming
as I called and they were less than thirty feet away, under the thick red
brush. No one was willing to step out into the open and take a curious look.
Old mother hen then got a bit anxious and called as if there was going to be a
high price to pay if the others did not listen. That’s when all of the turkey
talk ended. I did not see a movement or hear a foot fall as the wise old bird
collected her comrades. There had to be at least one bird out of twenty, some
where out of her calling range. I went on the move again.
Following the creek edge I spotted
four turkeys about to enter a large wood lot. If I could get ahead of them I
may make up for the (botched) earlier effort. A tall sugar maple tree welcomed
me to sit upon its wide expanse of exposed roots. The woods are now in the most
vivid colors of the autumn season. I had to pause and look skyward to take in
all of those colors against the blue sky. A red Squirrel in a hickory tree took
notice of me and began to chatter like a typewriter in high speed mode. That
little bugger came down the tree to give me an earful of its displeasure. Reds
are hard to photograph but this one managed to keep still, they are the ‘A’
type of the squirrel world. They seldom stop to even take a breath.
When I reached into my pocket for my
mouth call the little red went zipping up the tree and out of sight. I yelped
softly three times and a lone turkey answered my call. I waited a few minutes
and did another series of calls. Can you guess who answered me this time?
That’s right… she’s back, some how she
just happened to be in the marsh behind me and was ready for my next move
before I was. So much for the advice from the turkey ‘bible’ it is my guess
that turkeys have never read that book.
Oh, getting back to that hickory
tree. My Pap and I used to pickup hickory nuts while pheasant hunting. He would
take them and bake them in the oven for me. They are small and hard to crack,
but the meat inside is worth the effort. Roasting those dries them out and
turns what would be bitter to sweet. I picked up a pocket full to save to have
for my November meal. I may not have a wild turkey to roast but I will have
those nuts to remind me of how a hen, with a pea sized brain kept me in my
place in her woods.
Here’s
one last note to my fellow outdoor enthusiasts. Even though I hung my top layer
of cloths outside after returning home I still found two ticks on me in the
morning. I had to dig them both out to remove the whole tick. I know it give me
the willies too. It is vital that you remove the whole tick to prevent
infection. I did not take the time to spray my cloths with tick spray and paid
the price. Buy a can and use it, it is good insurance.
