- Details
- Category: Turkey
- Published: Tuesday, 21 May 2013 20:20
- Written by Dallas
12 Yard Gobbler...
Our plan had worked, the turkeys were coming. Suddenly they were on top of us…20 feet and closing…10 feet…6 feet…! This would be one of the most exciting, yet frustrating hunts ever.
Hen we had just called to within 5 yards Unreal, 3 turkeys got to within 6 feet of us!
My dad and I had just made our way up this long winding canyon when we rounded a sharp bend and happened upon seven turkeys up ahead across the frosty sagebrush flat. However, a long 80 yards stood between us and the flock. We were already amped up from an earlier close encounter where we called in a hen to within 5 yards, but now our blood was really pumping as we eyeballed these six hens and the one big lone gobbler!
Mature gobbler strutting his stuff Old tom trying to impress the girls
Unfortunately our cover was blown. The turkeys had seen us about the same time that we spotted them. Even though the flock didn’t seem overly alarmed, there was now a zero chance of calling them in. And sneaking in closer wasn’t a possibility since the only thing standing between us and them was a few sparse patches of short stubby sagebrush. As we stood there and watched the tom proudly strut his stuff, we quickly devised a plan. We would back out, head a couple hundred yards back down the canyon and slip up the other side of the ridge near their strutting zone.
We had now made our way about 200 yards up a small draw to the south and figured we might be getting close. Since our last glimpse of the turkeys saw them moving toward the edge of the timber, we figured they may pop up over the top of the ridge at any time so we stopped and called. Immediately our call was answered by a distant gobble. It sounded like he was still a ways away up over the other side, so we continued up the ridge another 40 yards. We were now nearing the ridge top, so we decided to stop and call again. Surprise…the turkeys must have covered as much or more ground as we had. Instantly we dropped to the dirt. Again, not much cover around us for concealment. My dad ducked behind the one piece of sagebrush that was directly in front of us, but I was left somewhat out in open. There was no time to move. Our plan had worked, the turkeys were coming. Suddenly they were on top of us…20 feet and closing…10 feet…6 feet…! We were pinned down and didn’t dare move a muscle.
Fortunately I was in a sitting position and my 12 gauge was pointing in the general direction of the approaching turkeys. But the fact that several hens were so close made me wonder how I’d ever get a decent shot at the invisible-to-this-point gobbler. My heart was pounding. The enormous amount of steam coming from each breath that escaped through my facemask was going to blow my cover, I just knew it. That in turn caused me to struggle to keep my breathing in check. It took several minutes before I was able to calm myself to the point where I was steady. Just in time, there 20 yards away I could see the tail fan of the strutting gobbler come into view. Ever so slightly I positioned my gun for a shot. At that moment my dad, obscured by the sagebrush and only able to see me slightly adjust my gun, thought the gobbler was moving out of sight so he let out a small cluck from his call. That caused a hen to take a step right out in front of the tom, obscuring my shot.
Needless to say, the tom ended slipping in behind some sagebrush and my shot opportunity was blown. Another five minutes passed as the tom moved closer and closer without ever presenting a shot. The crest of the hill and the knee-high sagebrush made it so I could see the gobbler, but never clearly.
It was about to happen, the gobbler was now 12 yards away and moving from right to left. Within seconds his head will appear from behind the sage…boom…a clean miss. What…? Oh yeah, believe it. In the moment, I was all too focused on the fact that the turkey’s head was about to clear the brush and present a shot. What I didn’t figure was that the turkey would walk out and step right behind a lone quakie, not in front of it. In an instant the old gobbler was one. He disappeared so quickly behind the brush and into the timber that I never even got off a second shot. I was beside myself…and still am! It’s absolutely amazing how exciting yet frustrating a hunt can be…and I can’t wait to do it again!
