I even wore a mask. It has a camouflage tabagon. The grocery chart was a 10 gauge Browning BPS.

Location: Somewhere between Kentucky and Tennessee.

Game: Opening Day of turkey season.

Gun: 28 inch Browning BPS 10 gauge.

Load: Winchester Supreme (Black Box) 2 ounces No.5.

Decoys: I am not sure. They are inflatable and the box says Cherokee Sports Half Strut and submissive hen. I have never used decoys on previous turkey hunts.

Call: H and S true slate

I brought all my gear out to the big house last night. I figured the weather was going to be cold. All week morning temperatures had been 32 and 34 degrees and frost. The rain came down all night and stopped at 6:00 am. The outside was dengy, mist hung in the air, and the breeze was stiff. I actually like hunting turkeys when it is wet. I do not care for wind. Luckily, the wind would blow through soon enough.

I had the decoys with me in my big gear bag because I brought everything. I can’t stand the guy who shows up and starts, “Anybody got any socks? Anybody got spare ammo?” My brother had gotten me the decoys for Christmas last year. I usually start high on the ridges before the sun comes up and work down into the bottoms and meadows. I never saw the need for decoys in the thickets and timber. I differently did not want to carry them. However, I did not feel well for climbing ridges all half the night and all day, so I decide to start in the hidden meadow. However, I left the decoys in the the big bag and headed for the meadow.

The meadow is Hallmark Channel beautiful. Purple clover and native true blue, Bluegrass. There two wide creeks that cut both sides of the meadow. The creek banks. Athe edge, where the creek banks meet the meadow are natural blinds of honeysuckle, some saw barriers, wild dog woods, and a strange small tree with little red pods. The creek banks immediately climb straight up once the either creek is crossed. The timber side of the creek beds are cider, oak, and poplar. Those damn Beatles have been hard on the standing timber.

I crawled under a honeysuckle bush about 6:45. I could hear a few birds sounding really far away. You behind mean on top of the ridge. His proclamation would be objected to by a bird way back on the top of the horse shoe. Turkeys gobbling are like gunshots. When one goes off close, the person hearing does not have to wonder how far away.

I clucked a couple of times and finished with three yelps on my slate. Sound and fury made me by instinct want to jump to my feet. “I ought to be able to see that one.” I turned my eyes in my head hard against the right side of my sockets peering through the small gaps in the honeysuckle vine. He was fully fanned at the head of the meadow where a bare slope starts. He was facing toward the end of the meadow.

Well, he knew where I was, so no more calling. That honeysuckle bush makes an awesome blind. I slide that Big Jake of a 10 gauge into my lap. I moved my hands without moving my shoulders keeping everything below the height of the grass. I could see his beard when he would get sideways to blare. I guess to him he sounded as eloquent as Romeo to my Juliet. He would waddle a few feet and blare again. I do not speak turkey, but what he was shouting must have been convincing because each time I had to hold myself from just running up to him. I guess the language of love is universal.

He did not take a straight path. He parade himself straight down the middle of the meadow, but he did somgoing side to side in a tight zig zag. He must have been angry at himself for walking to a hen when any right thinking hen would run on one leg for him.

He must have finally remembered his status because just to my right at one o’clock eighty yards a way he stoppped. He fully fanned and yelled for the hen. He turned sideways and damned her. He turned the other way and begged her. Then he made himself sleek. He turned to the left and waddled off. He stopped and looked back just at the edge of the meadow. I should have called again. However, I did not.

Well, that went almost perfect. I crawled out of the honeysuckle, and walked over to where he had stopped. I was hoping I could see him on the slope. He was not there. I will never be angry about something getting to live. I did wish the morning had gone my way. I figure I will not see him again.

I walked down to the house. My wife came out. I am comfortable, even warm, in my gear. She is bouncing from being cold. I told her what had happened. “You know, if I had only taken those confounded decoys, then I would have killed him.”

“How?”

“He would have marched right on in to whip the male decoy off the hen decoy. Now, my chance is gone.”

“It is only 8:30. Why not just take them and go back? Instead of hanging around her wanting to be upset at yourself all morning.”

“He won’t come back. There is a hen in the field. All right, hand me Big Jake.”

My wife went to blowing up the decoys, because she is great while I tried to make the hen grow a bread.

I went away two inflatable decoys in one arm and Big Jake under the other. I imagined what I looked like with blowup dolls and a shotgun. “This is boarderline silly. That big tom won’t be back.”

I set the decoys wit the submissive hen just to the left of where I would be under the honeysuckle. I placed the half strut mid sized tom behind her and a little forward. I made sure she was lower. “I guess that looks like he is on top of her, or at least, about to be.”

I crawled under the honeysuckle with Big Jake. I looked to my right and her came four turkeys not big, but not small hens running from the trees that meet the edge of the blare slope.

“They had to seem me put them out. If they are toms, then there Jakes.” Sure enough they ran right up to within 15 yards of the decoys still just to my right. They all put their necks straight up as they stared at the decoys. I could see them mulling over the red head decoy. “Yeah, they all got breads, white and red heads. The one in the middle even has dangles on his throat. How am I going to get my gun up.”

I whispered four yelps on my slate call. Right then they decided in unison the hen in the bush was easier to muck with than mucking with the red head. They came running right at me. I tried to time a quick draw to hammer the middle and biggest. As I came up with Big Jake each peeled off to the right. The middle one actually the third one, got out of the line before I could get on him. The last one however caught 2 ounces of Number Five copper-plated shot at six feet.

I still would not carry those decoys up into the ridges where everything is so close, but I am glad to have them. I got some nice sized breast off him bigger than a platter each.

I have breast brineing now. Tomorrow my wife will make fried turkey strips. I will make gravy and biscuits. One of my favorite meals to share with my Wife and in laws.

Oh! I almost forgot. Suck it Covid.

Nice job.

That’s awesome
I have yet to get out but I will soon

Thank you both.

Sounds like you had a great time Amigo! I was driving down our country road the other day + there was a flock of at least 40 turkeys in the pasture + there I sat in my truck with no shotgun, license, or place to pull over.

quote:

Originally posted by LHeym500:
I can’t stand the guy who shows up and starts, “Anybody got any socks? Anybody got spare ammo?”

https://youtu.be/VlmanKoPLyo