2003 Turkey Season a big success

By By Mikes Giles / outdoors writer
May 2, 2003
Many people predicted this year to be one of the best turkey seasons since the early eighties. Although there isn't as much mature timber around as there was then, the turkeys have proven highly adaptable and have come back strong. However, many of these turkeys are concentrated in smaller areas. This sometimes means more hunting pressure on the turkeys that are consolidated in these spots, thus making them ultimately more difficult to hunt.
Harvest results around the state have been varied. Many hunters have reported hearing a lot of gobbling activity, but have found some of the birds to be stubborn or call shy.
After having some early season success while calling up gobblers for myself and other hunters, things got rocky with one bird in particular. I had already harvested a nice gobbler and called in several more for others when I took my nephew Justin Giles. After three trips together it looked like everything that could go wrong did go wrong. On two occasions we had our hunts interrupted by skidders, chain saws and logging equipment.
Close doesn't count
One clear, crisp morning we located a nice gobbler on a hardwood ridge. It took quite some time but we finally set up on the bird and began our duel. It didn't take long to get him fired up with a few clucks, yelps and purrs. After about thirty minutes the old monarch had moved to within 50 yards of us. In fact, if he hadn't been just over the knoll, we could have watched the whole spectacle.
As I detected the sound of drumming, it was obvious that he had been fooled and was coming in. Just about that time it happened once again. Some nearby loggers cranked up their skidders and saws and it sounded like they were on top of the ridge with us. Of course the old gobbler just shut up and headed for parts unknown. This was the second time that we had been foiled by the sound of logging equipment operating.
Last hunt
With only a couple of days left in the season I decided to try him one more time. This time Justin would be in school and I was on my own. Arriving at 5:45, I waited a few minutes and never heard a thing. As I let out an owl hoot, a thunderous gobble erupted from the hollow. Now that I had him pegged, I began my ascent up the mountain opposite his position.
I arrived just as it was getting light enough to see. Nary a sound came from the gobbler for a few more minutes. Finally he belted out another gobble, just after he pitched out of his tree and hit the ground! The woods around him literally erupted in a chorus of clucking, putting, and cutting. Excitement filled the air as his harem of hens vied for his affection and attention.
Sweet talk
With a Pittman mouth call in place and an Albert Paul box call in my hands, I cut up and really let those hens have a piece of my mind. Of course, this just got them riled up and they really started chastising me with a whole lot of cutting and commotion. The old gobbler just ignored his closest suitors, and really revved up and responded each time I called. Then it happened again. The woods went silent. For fifteen minutes the woods were quiet. No gobbles, no hen yelps, nothing.
Suddenly a booming gobble came from over the ridge only eighty yards away. Spitting and drumming sounds emanated directly from his position. And then all went silent again. For ten minutes there was total silence. He was either coming in silently, or leaving with his harem. Should I call again and risk spooking him, or just stay alert. Thankfully, I chose the latter.
Moment of truth
Finally, the top of a gobbler's fan appeared like a ghost at the crest of the ridge. Instantly the wise old monarch appeared on top of the ridge, in full strut. What a sight to behold. As he floated across the ridge the bead of my gun followed along. Finally coming out of strut he slowly circled towards me. At a distance of 25 yards, the bird made his final mistake by rounding a big oak, while looking for one more hen.
Instantly the old Remington Special Purpose turkey gun roared and the king had finally met his match. At the sound of the shotgun's blast, at least eight hens from his trailing harem flushed for parts unknown. His search for one more conquest had done him in. What a fitting way to end the turkey season. The big gobbler was a true limb hanger with long curved, sharp spurs, and a beard in excess of eleven inches.
Although he had beaten me on three occasions, I finally caught him in a moment of weakness and finished my season with a flourish. Many times we are successful at the game, but more often than not, they are the victors. That makes it even sweeter when we finally beat one of the kings. It just doesn't get any better than that.