Pennsylvania Game News - May 2010 - 4

birds hung up, I’d always try moving to set up in another spot. Oh, I love to call to them. Softly, loudly, seductively, aggressively, I’ve tried it all. Never once did I just sit down, shut up and be patient, which leads me to last year’s spring gobbler season. I really wanted to shoot a turkey with my bow, and I missed a chance at a jake. He and a buddy came in and ran off a lone tom behind me. I saw them as they passed my blind and decoys, but they were out of range and running toward the bird gobbling behind me. Soon afterwards they came back along their original path before diverting onto a trail that led to the field I was set up in. I didn’t really want to shoot a jake, and the season was young, but as the saying goes, “A bird in hand is better than two in the bush.” So, I decided if one of them gave me a shot, I’d take it. I made the mistake of not testing the “shoot through” mesh beforehand. The two excited jakes came to the field edge and at 20 yards stopped to survey the three inflatable hen decoys in front of them. I came to full draw, held on the closer one and released. The mesh nearly ripped out of the blind and my arrow dove harmlessly into the ground, a full foot to the left of the bird. They vanished into the brush and I disgustedly gathered up my gear and contemplated going to work. Arriving back at the truck, I had calmed down and decided that it had been a good learning experience. Being that I still had more than four hours before I needed to get to work, I decided to try a spot close to my home. Pulling into the access road and getting out of my truck, I grabbed the Benelli Super Black Eagle out of my gun rack and headed for the woods. I loaded my gun, popped in my favorite mouth call and slowly started up the trail. Every so often I’d stop and call,
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first quietly with the mouth call and then louder and more aggressive with a slate. I’d just reached the end of the trail, cut across a small stream and entered a stand of hemlock mixed with hardwoods when I stopped to call again. This time I got an answer from what sounded like a bird no more than 100 yards away. I quickly ducked down next to a tree, got my face mask on and gun up, and tossed my orange hat onto a branch near my head. Once I was ready, I called again and received a response from the same location. I like to gauge a tom’s excitement by seeing how willing he is to answer my calls. If he answers every time I call and is moving my way, I’ll call a lot, but if he doesn’t answer or isn’t moving toward me, I won’t. This tom continued to answer me every time I called, but always from the same spot; he wasn’t budging. I was facing uphill to where the turkey was, and because he wasn’t coming, I decided to move to a better setup. (Remember what I said about being patient?) I found a blowdown to sit against, got comfortable again and called. He immediately answered from where he’d been before I moved. After another 20 minutes or so, my level of comfort was rapidly decreasing and the tom still wasn’t coming any closer. To top it all off, I had a treetop 20 yards in front of me, directly between me and the tom’s current location. I didn’t think I could shoot through it, and I didn’t know if he’d come around it. I began eyeing up another spot to set up. (Again, patience.) I moved to the base of a large hemlock that was more comfortable. The turkey kept answering my calls and occasionally gobbled on his own. I decided to get more aggressive, because I had to be at work in two hours. I had a semi-hot turkey, a great field of view and the feeling of imminent success in my gut. Time to get on with it. For the next 30 minutes I threw everything I had at that tom. I clucked, cutted and purred and scratched leaves. I yelped and even gobbled at him. He went berserk
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Pennsylvania Game News - May 2010

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