The Frosty Gobbler

9 June 2009

With Pennsylvania's season in full swing, I had had plenty of opportunities to kill a bird. Most of the birds, however, I had called in were jakes, and the longbeards I'd been chasing had either gone silent or been harvested. I had hunted with a good friend, Shaun, the two days prior, with us working some birds we'd found in a small cornfield just off a pasture. When our initial set-up didn't pan out, we moved; unfortunately, we got too close and bumped the toms. On a good note, though, we spotted two more gobblers on our way home, and decided to try them at our next chance.

Our scouting showed the birds were visiting the cornfield at 9AM, and then again in the evening - as long as nothing changed, we were feeling pretty confident. The morning of our hunt, we headed out early, sneaking along the edge of a woodlot in order to get into position. It was cold that morning, with frost in the forecast. Even as we sat in the blind listening to the woods come alive, we could see frost forming, and we welcomed the warmth of the sun.

Shortly before legal shooting, one of the gobblers let loose, only to be followed immediately by a hen. We answered softly, but decided to go the subtle - Nobody's Home - route, and see what developed. While we waited, three deer, including a nice buck, came into the field. Then it was a pair of rabbits, one of which spent most of its time being chased by a crow. Round about 9 o'clock, I told Shaun - "They should be here by now" - and just then, we heard a soft yelp. I answered, and was cut off by a thunderous gobble...they were right on top of us! Looking out the window, we could see the hen and what appeared to be a jake, but no gobbler. Suddenly, another gobble!

The hen and jake walked straight to our decoy, both acting aggressively toward the fake. By this time, the longbeard had entered the field to the far right, and was standing as if wondering what was happening. Suddenly, the two birds at the decoy stopped, and the gobbler began to walk away. Seeing the situation, Shaun told me to take him if I had the shot - I did, but as a right-hander, I was going to have to shoot left-handed. At the shot, the gobbler rolled, but was right back on his feet; switching shoulders, I fired again, and hit the bird again. Together, Shaun and I leapt from the blind in pursuit. One more shot, and the old gobbler was down for keeps.

The name of the game here was patience, pure and simple.