Pennsylvania Game News - April 2009 - 26

nary another gobble ensued. Nonetheless, shortly before seven, an undetected tom slipped onto the scene. I’m not sure what spooked him, but I suspect the wary bird may have spotted movement when I turned my head. To our chagrin, he flushed like a startled pheasant and sailed safely down the mountain without a shot being fired. On this hunt I was the guest of Harry Guyer, Jr., a fellow outdoor scribe whose life eerily parallels my own. Guyer’s birthday, July 5, 1949, makes him three days younger than yours truly. After attending college in Shippensburg, Guyer taught high school English at Northern Bedford for 35 years before retiring. I graduated from West Chester State College and taught high school English for 35 years at Kennett High School. Guyer wrestled in high school and later coached the sport. Ditto for me. Our mutual passion for hunting, fishing and all things wild and wonderful led us both to begin chronicling the outdoor experience two decades ago. We both joined the Pennsylvania Outdoor Writers Association (POWA) at about the same time, and it was at a POWA conference in the late 1980s that our paths first crossed. We’ve remained friends ever since. This was my second turkey tour with Guyer. The first, a few years back, proved uneventful. But Guyer, a seasoned turkey hunter who has more than 30 of these big birds to his credit, is infinitely familiar with the lay of the land here. Joining us on this foray was Dana Troutman, one of Guyer’s hunting buddies who shares that same passion for the outdoors, along with the same finely honed turkey hunting skills. He also knows these turkey haunts like the back of his hand. With both Troutman and Guyer plying their expertise on the local flock, I figured the odds might be on my side this time. 26 But the turkeys neglected to cooperate. After that close encounter Thursday morning, the gobblers clammed up, and although we later bounced a big bird out of one field, that was it for the day’s action. Guyer speculated that a lingering cold front had shut down the turkey activity. Nonetheless, our efforts persisted right up until the noon deadline. “A turkey that gobbles after 9 o’clock,” noted Guyer, “is a dead turkey.” The rationale here is that most hens would be sitting on their nests by that time of day and any toms still hot and bothered enough to gobble so late in the morning are recklessly inclined to respond to a hunter’s call. Dawn on Friday found us on another ridge of Tussey Mountain. Despite Guyer’s determined calling efforts, the gobblers’ lips — er, beaks — remained sealed as we waited for the cold front to break. At eight we pulled up the decoys and headed to another locale where Troutman spotted a turkey that immediately ran for cover. The three of us scrambled down the trail, but failed to head off the bird (most likely a hen). We walked farther on as a bright sun and rising temperatures signaled the critical arrival of a warm front. Guyer and Troutman offered up a few calls and, lo and behold, a gobble sounded from the valley below. I checked my watch: 9:02. Guyer’s prophecy echoed in the back of my mind. Another gobble sounded farther off and we hurried down into the hollow to get into position. Guyer peeled off first as I followed Troutman another hundred yards or so. “Find a spot over there where you can see,” he directed. “I’ll drop down into the hollow. Maybe one of us can get a shot at him.” I followed his instructions and found a comfortable vantage point overlooking a narrow cut intersected by a small stream. A thick stand of saplings obstructed my vision, and the camouflage head net I wore wasn’t helping matters. Somewhere down off to my left Troutman began to call and the turkey responded with an emphatic gobble. The bird GAME NEWS

Pennsylvania Game News - April 2009

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