Turkey3

An hour later, my buddy Kevin & I sat quietly in the blind. 1 young gobbler had come by but he stayed way out of range with a group of hens. He put on a great show, but I was ready for some action. Just then, a gobble echoed across the opening. We both froze and looked out toward the farthest corner.

On a dead run, a lone tom bore down on our decoy spread. He had a long way to go, though, since the far corner was a quarter mile away. As I focused on his approach, another bird caught my eye coming in from my left. It was that young tom we'd been watching all morning, and now I guess he figured he better beat this bigger bird to the punch. He did arrive first, but the big boy got in quick, getting on the heels of the first tom and chasing him off into the trees behind us.

Everything fell silent. There was no sound or sign of turkey for a few minutes as Kevin and I looked at each other and shrugged.

	My Rock Island Tom
		As soon as I got home from my first turkey hunt in Nebraska, I ran into a family friend who said there were turkey on his land only 45 minutes from my house. Needless to say I was intrigued, especially since there wasn't even the hint of turkey hunting around these parts the entire time I was growing up. Another reason was that I was a rookie when it came to chasing these birds and I wanted to do it again. I already had my blind from Double Bull which allows me to stay in my chair and use my chest strap so I can shoot. A better reason is that when I shoot my crossbow out of this blind there is plenty of room inside for a bipod stand as well as a hunting buddy to help me out. All that was left to do was to find out one thing... where they were.

Above - This is the gobbler I bagged last spring (April, 2004). He weighed 20 lbs and has an 11" beard and will be hanging on my wall in a couple of weeks.
We scouted the afternoon before and spotted 2 toms and a hen on the far side of a large clearing in the woods working their way along a creek. We watched patiently as they headed to roost. Knowing this direction, we could come in before light the next morning and set up in a spot to intercept them the when they fly down. After popping up the blind and scattering the three decoys I owned at the time, we sat and waited. Dawn slowly cracked, and with it came the sounds we were waiting to hear, 2 big toms gobbling from their roost in the distance. I gave a few loud yelps with a diaphragm call right away. This gives the birds an idea of our position. Even if they go off in the opposite direction when they leave the roost, they can remember where that hen call was coming from before dawn.
An hour later, my buddy Kevin & I sat quietly in the blind. 1 young gobbler had come by but he stayed way out of range with a group of hens. He put on a great show, but I was ready for some action. Just then, a gobble echoed across the opening. We both froze and looked out toward the farthest corner. On a dead run, a lone tom bore down on our decoy spread. He had a long way to go, though, since the far corner was a quarter mile away. As I focused on his approach, another bird caught my eye coming in from my left. It was that young tom we'd been watching all morning, and now I guess he figured he better beat this bigger bird to the punch. He did arrive first, but the big boy got in quick, getting on the heels of the first tom and chasing him off into the trees behind us. Everything fell silent. There was no sound or sign of turkey for a few minutes as Kevin and I looked at each other and shrugged.

			This is my favorite turkey pose. It's a traditional carry and I waited a long time to be able to do it.

Where had they gone? Would they come back out? I gave a few soft yelps and listened intently. No answer. The minutes passed slowly, and I repeated my calls as if I was pleading with this tom. Suddenly a gobble burst out of the bushes to our right that seemed to shake the blind. He was close, but I couldn't see him yet. I knew he was coming out though. My handed tightened around the old "long-tom" shotgun that had been passed down from my grandpaw to my dad and now to me. This is what I had been waiting all year for, and I was ready. He finally popped out of the woods. And it was the big boy. Not in full strut like I'd expected, the tom moved cautiously around our set up, staying out a good 50 yards or so. It was far, it wasn't quite far enough. I clicked off the safety and lined him up. With the blast, my load of No.4 lead dropped him like a stone. He was a beauty.

My Rock Island Tom