Pennsylvania Game News - April 2017 - 10

skid road toward Rick and was soon
surprised to see him walking up the road
toward me, empty-handed.
Rick couldn't wait to tell me his story.
He began talking before reaching me. He
had seen the two jakes ﬂy down and make
tracks toward the hens calling from the
top of the hill.
Rick was so caught up in watching
them, he had not seen or heard Elvis'
silent approach.
Elvis, using some downed treetops as
cover, had snuck in on Rick's right about
50 yards inside the edge of the woods.
The gobbler must have held there until
he heard the hens begin to move off.
Only then did he appear and start
moving toward the top of the bench.
Rick said that when I started calling,
Elvis stopped in full display, waiting for
the hens to come to him. He'd only need
to move a few feet closer for Rick to get
a shot.
But Rick was so focused on Elvis,
he didn't see the two jakes approaching
him from the rear. And when one issued
a sharp alarm putt, Rick spun around and
took a passing shot that missed cleanly.
That evening at camp, we came up
with a plan for the next morning. But
before morning came, Rick received an
unexpected call reporting a problem at
work that required his immediate attention.
He ﬁgured it would be a week before
he could return, but on his way out the
door he said he'd be back.
"I expect to see Elvis's beard hanging
on your beard board when I get back
up here, too," he said, "Don't leave me
down, buddy."
Elvis had proved a worthy opponent,
and from his wary behavior, I had no
10

doubt he'd been shot at in the past.
I concluded I'd need the help of a
decoy if I wanted to take Elvis, and when
I got to the ridge the next morning, I
placed one near the top of the bench.
Then, I waited, hoping any gobbler
coming from the hollow would be close
to the top, and in the open before he
could see it.
I heard the hens awakening on the
roost, pinpointed their location and
moved down the skid road to where
I could see over the edge and into the
hollow.
I sat down in front a big beech, knowing it would block my outline if the hens
approached from the rear.
The minute I heard the hens leaving
the roost, I called to the gobblers. They
responded immediately. Now, the hens
would dictate my next move.
I knew luck was with me when I heard
the hens feeding on the power line behind
me. Better yet, they were moving away
from my position.
I didn't call to the gobblers again, and
instead awaited their next move.
Like the previous day, they gobbled
and began to move up the hollow's side
toward the hens. But when they heard
the hens moving away, they shut down.
Ten minutes passed before one of
them ﬁnally gobbled again; it sounded
as if they were moving toward the creek
at the bottom of the hollow.
Elvis, if he was somewhere nearby,
chose to remain silent.
I made a few soft feeding calls, and
scratched at the leaves to sound like a hen
scratching for food.
Suddenly, a loud gobble pierced the
woods from to my right.
There was no uncertainty about the
Pennsylvania Game News - April 2017

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