This opening day was going to be unique. The Swede saw to that. She had been having trouble with her ears for the past few days. They had been clogged. But at four o'clock when the alarm went off this morning she was already awake. And she was in pain. She had double ear aches.
Nothing fazes Doc. He has the perfect make up to be a family practitioner. Any normal man who walks out of his house at four-thirty in the morning dressed in full camouflage would probably question why his hunting partner's wife was along for the ride. Not Doc. He smiles that big smile of his and says "Good morning Annika" and kisses her on the cheek like its perfectly normal for her to be along for opening day. Had the situation been reversed, the first words out of my mouth would be "what the (expletive deleted) is she doing here?" It is not until we clear his driveway and head out of our road until he asks "Are we still going hunting?" "You're a real piece of work you know that" I tell him as I turn the truck left on the state route towards his office and directly away from the farm.
We both thought it was hilarious but the Swede found little humor when we looked into her two ears at the same time with otoscope's and said we could see each other. Both were infected. He pulls out his script pad and we head to the twenty-four hour Walgreen's drug store to get the Swede some drugs. Antibiotics and something for the pain were obtained and back to our neighborhood we headed. It would be too late to head for the farm.
If we were to salvage this opening day drastic changes had to be made. We were very confident about success out at the farm. We knew where the strutting was taking place and at what time. But we had not scouted the neighborhood birds and this was a huge mistake. Normally we take our first gobblers out at the farm and the second Tom's here in the neighborhood. We do this as it is harder to figure the neighborhood birds out. They are "woods" birds without the benefit of close crop fields. And they are always on the move and not as prone to habit as are the turkeys at the farm. We were going to have to "run and gun" if we were to have any success this opening morning. Well, "run and gun" cannot truly be used to describe our new opening morning tactic. At our ages, it is more appropriate to call it "gasp and wheeze." They should bring out a Defibrillator in camo and small enough to fit in your turkey vest for us aging boomers.
We have ideas where the "woods" birds roost. We see them all the time when we are deer hunting the neighborhood. They like the tall trees on the edges of the ridges that overlook the creek that meanders through our properties. It is here where we will start our hunt in hopes of hearing some birds before they flew down to start their morning.
Ridge running in the dark should be a sport in the next Olympics. I don't care how careful you are, you're going to take a sapling branch dead across the top of the nose and if your lucky, underneath the eyes. And it is going to hurt like hell. The first call of the morning is heard. Unfortunately it is not a gobble but Doc yelling "Son of a Bitch" in response to the first sapling encounter. I smile full well knowing that my time is just around the corner and it will not seem quite as funny. But you just can't help yourself and you smile when it happens to your hunting partner.
The second call of the day was a gobble. We had struck pay dirt! We had gone less then six hundred yards on the ridge when we heard it. We both new instantly where the Tom was located as this was the very same ridge where Doc shot his ten point back in October. I put out the decoys in the only opening available while Doc took up the shooting position. I put out three hens and one Jake. I would move back behind Doc by twenty or more yards and do the calling.
We heard the first "whomp whomp whomp" of a bird flying down from the roost barely thirty seconds after I took my position. It was followed by several others. My heart sank. He was already with hens. And just when I was motioning to Doc that we were screwed the gobbles started. Lots of them! There were lots of Tom's. We were the luckiest dummies alive. This is what you dream of but never see happen. These Tom's had not gathered their harem. These were sucker Tom's!
The first tentative clucks I made with the box call were immediately answered before I could complete the sequence. I gave Doc the "get your gun up" sign and decided I would not call anymore. They knew where we were. Calling any more would just screw things up. This is a lesson most of us learn the hard way. And I am no exception. I used to call my brains out. I don't know why it takes so long to figure out that "less is more" when it comes to calling turkeys.
They came running over the little rise in full stride like a conga line gone bad. It was as if we had posted a sign that said "first come, first served" as they raced toward the decoys. Most were Jakes. Three were large Tom's.
The first bird hit the Jake decoy with a vengeance and knocked it down and pounced on it while the others started displaying. Then the fights started. It was mayhem! I had no idea how Doc was going to shoot one of the large Tom's without hitting another turkey and knew he was going to have to wait. I had no time to dwell on that thought as the shot exploded and one of the big Tom's fell. It became a pile on as the other birds now went after their fallen comrade.
I had no shot. Doc was between me and the skirmish. I jumped up (another term used loosely) and started to run (ditto that term thing) towards the birds hoping the heat of battle would get me in range. It did not. They were off in an instant leaving the Jake decoy and the large Tom as casualties of war.
We picked up Doc's Tom and the decoys and both went to a close fallen tree where we could sit on the now horizontal trunk. Our hearts were racing. Those that claim thoroughbred horse racing is the most exciting two minutes in sports have never been turkey hunting. I started thinking again what a great idea that was about a camo Defibrillator as we both tried to catch our breath. We sat there in silence for about ten minutes when Doc said "That was fun."
I turned my head towards him and said "You're a real piece of work you know that!"
Here is a picture of Doc and the Tom. As you can see, I really suck at photography. Not very good focus and I cut Doc's head off. But at least I got one of the Turkeys all the way in the frame.
Thanks Mike for the story ,congrats to Doc on a good bird and hopefully the wife is starting to feel better . 