The spring turkey season started out wet and cold.  This was the second day of the hunt and the weather hadn’t improved.  My hunting partner and I got up early, put the coffee on and were ready to hit the woods while it was still dark.  I had decided to hunt in a ravine between two hills coming down from a thicket of briars and near a patch of pines.  There seemed to always be turkey sign in that area.  I got wet walking in and was getting cold.  My coveralls didn’t keep me dry with so much moisture on the bushes and tree limbs.

By the time I reached my desired hunting location, it was getting light.  I made a blind on the side of a ditch using a few fallen tree limbs.   I loaded my gun and settled in for the morning hunt.  I made a faint yelp call.  I hadn’t heard a turkey yet but didn’t let that discourage me.  I knew there were turkeys in the area.  It seems that some days you can’t get a turkey to gobble at all while other days they are gobbling all over the place.  The fact that they weren’t gobbling doesn’t mean they won’t come to a call.  I waited and called again about every twenty minutes.  The best opportunity to hear turkeys gobble is between 6 and 8 o’clock.  It was soon mid-morning and no turkey, not even a gobble. 

At last, I had enough of shivering in wet clothes and started back to camp.  My hunting partner had frozen out as well.  We started making breakfast.  We had no sooner gotten the bacon on the fire when a gobbler started up.  It was at least a quarter of a mile away but he was loud and persistent.  I grabbed my gun and started out after the turkey.  I walked fast at first because I had a lot of ground to cover.  When I got near the area, I slowed down and walked making less noise.  It helped that the ground was wet.

Arriving at the area where the gobbling was coming from, I found a stream bed with a ridge on the other side.  The turkey must have been in strut on the top of the ridge.  I couldn’t see him but he was obviously just out of sight.  I slipped down into the valley and sat down against a tree just below the ridge.  I didn’t have to wait long until he came walking toward me.  He was in strut and gobbling.  I raised my gun slowly so as to not attract his attention.  As soon as he came out of strut, I shot.  The turkey was a little too far away for a sure shot.  Needless-to-say, the shot didn’t hit the head or neck and the turkey started to fly.  I have learned over the years of turkey hunting that when a turkey is scared into flight, he will fly in the direction he is walking.  The turkey seemed to have a hard time getting air born but he was headed in my direction.  I shot twice more as he flew over my head.  The last shot brought him down.  I got my turkey and proudly headed back to camp to show off my bird and have breakfast. 

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