One and Done

Spring, the harbinger of Utah's general season turkey hunt, had arrived. Opening day and I was up at 4:00 a.m. The previous weekend weather brought measurable snow to the mountains and snow flurries to the valley floor. As I hiked along the foothills near my home, the early morning chill bit hard at my face.

turkey tracks in the snow
Fresh tracks in the snow, I knew turkeys were in the area

 

 As the sky began to lighten I reached my destination, 3 miles from where I began.

 

 My hope was that the morning silence would be broken by the gobbles of an  awaking tom...that never happened.

 

 In fact, I never heard the sound of a single turkey all morning long. My one and  only encounter with a turkey was at 10:15 a.m. when a hen walked out in front of  me at  75 yards.

 

 I highly doubt my "calling" enticed her from the underbrush because she could not  have been any less interested in my "calling".

 

 This hen never responded vocally or glanced in my direction, she merely continued  feeding until she disappeared from sight.

 

 

Wednesday was a new day and my plan was radically different. The plan was to head south and hunt until I either bagged a turkey or until Sunday ended, which ever came first. At 1:00 p.m. my work day was done so I quickly headed home, packed the last of my gear and headed south.

 

turkey hunting, snow capped mountains
                            Way up the mountain listening to gobbling in the distance

 

Five hours later I was high in the snow capped mountains hammering away on my turkey box call. And then I heard that "sweet music to my ears", the sound that all turkey hunters hope to hear, the distinct response gobble from old tom turkey! I took a glance at the time, 6:01 p.m. Perfect, plenty of daylight remained.

 

turkey hunting, sage brush hillside
                        Sparse hillside between me and the turkeys

 

 I needed to close the distance since the  large sparse sagebrush flat separated me  from Mr. turkey, providing little if any  concealment.

 

 So I proceeded toward the cover of the  trees 300 yards in the distance.

 

 Near the edge of the tree line I once again  fired up my box call, attempting to zero in  on the gobbler's location.

 

 Much to my satisfaction several turkeys  gobbled in response.

 

 

I cautiously made my way another 100 yards, placed my decoy in front of me and set up for the ambush. My first calling sequence was answered by thunderous gobbles! However, this scenario played out for an hour and twenty minutes until I couldn't take it any longer.

My legs were numb from crouching, I sensed the gobblers were growing tired or possibly suspicious of this loud mouthed hen; not to mention that a couple of yelping hens finally made me realize why it was that the turkeys hung-up roughly 80 yards away. I decided to change my location.

Quickly I back tracked and skirted north around the hillside. Within minutes I figured I had crept to within yards of the gobbler's sanctuary. Using my mouth call I made a few soft clucks, instantly two gobblers responded just ahead. Slowly I lifted my head to peek up and over the small rise.

turkey hunting, two hens  turkey hunting, strutting gobbler

        Somewhat busted by a couple of hens                               Just ready to clear the sage

 

Two hens met my gaze, I froze. Faintly I clucked again. A couple of toms answered simultaneously. I continued scanning forward without moving a muscle. Ever so slowly a strutting gobbler's tail fan rose inches above the sage brush 25 yards away. Unfazed by my presence, the hens calmly moved parallel to my position and luckily for me, the tom was following. Within seconds his current course would provide me a clear shot...gently I raised my shotgun into position...his bright red head gradually appeared...wait...wait...one and done, the big old gobbler was mine!

 

turkey hunting, big old tom turkey, gobbler
Sun broke from the clouds for a perfect pic of my gobbler, 9 inch beard, 7/8 inch spurs