I spent this past spring in my office, which is ever changing, every day and I was surrounded by turkeys.
My office was a hunting blind, somewhere in the woods of Texas, and I was hunting the South Texas Brush Country Rio Grande Turkeys to be exact.
I have been severely humbled into acknowledging the truth; I am by no means, a turkey-hunting expert.
Sometime, earlier in the spring I thought I was.
But, I was wrong.
I hit the field, bow in hand thinking I could outsmart a gobbler with a brain the size of a dime.
I was wrong.
What actually transpired was nothing more than a comedy of errors.
The third weekend out hunting turkey proved to be as unsuccessful as the first two.
The first morning out, setting up not far off a feeder that was littered with turkey tracks, I heard gobbles coming from a line of trees about 300-yards out.
I set up the video camera and waited for enough light for good footage. As I listened to the sex-starved birds gobble back and forth, my blood pumped and I just knew I would be back at the lodge by 10:00 a.m. with at least one gobbler in hand.
The sun slowly washed its brilliant red and orange hue over the horizon and I hit my first box call, one I had practiced, I practiced the hen’s cadence, tone, purrs, clucks; I had the hen thing down, without a doubt.
The key to calling in a gobbler was sounding like a sexy hen, I thought.
I was wrong.
After listening to the gobbles all morning, and I hit that first call, silence followed. I decided to scratch out a few soft purrs, a yelp and I listened, silence, lots of it, a whole truckload of silence.
In fact, there was silence well into the early morning. Finally, about 10:00 a.m., no gobbler in hand, not hearing so much as a cluck since before daylight, I climb out of the blind and decide to scout around a bit.
I picked up Henrietta, my brand-new hen decoy, and lay her in the blind and wander down towards the road, carrying only my bow.
After about 100-yards, I thought seriously about my location. I was hunting in the South Texas Brush Country, home to some of the biggest rattlesnakes I have ever seen, I turned and headed back to my blind to retrieve my 9MM just in case.
Not being exceptionally careful or quiet, I traipsed up the side of the hill, about the time I put my bow inside the blind, I heard a gobble directly behind me, I hunkered down, like I was hiding, although there was nothing to hide behind.
I sat for a minute and heard that bird gobble again, he must have been not 25-yards out, but I couldn’t see him, and I was wondering how I was going to retrieve my bow out of the blind without being detected. I slowly raised my head to peer over the brush about the same time the gobbler did the same, we looked right at each other, like I said, about 25- yards apart, neither one of us moved… for an instant...then I stood up and grabbed my bow, and he high tailed it down the hill faster than any track runner I have ever seen.
That doggone bird must have followed me right up that hill.
I humbly climbed back in my blind and sat out the rest of the morning. I called, and called, and called some more.
Silence.
After awhile I heard a gobble behind me. I called to him, my sexiest purr, and silence, he was gone, and then about an hour later, the same thing.
So I decided that my original philosophy on turkey hunting was incorrect, it was not how you call them, rather it was location.
I was wrong.
I am sure either way of thinking will work like a charm, when the bird decides to make you look good. My birds, on the other hand, were just playing with me.
I decided the best thing to do would be to move the blind back about 20-yards, into a clump of Mesquite brush, and reposition so I was facing what would have been the left-back of the blind, where I kept hearing the birds.
In my earlier days of hunting changing blinds use to mean, getting up from behind a cedar tree with my weapon and walking to another cedar tree and hunkering down.
Since I have become a professional outdoor journalist, I don’t travel exceptionally light anymore.
So I probably needed a crew to move my blind 20-yards or so. I tipped over the blind, dragged it to the new position, tied everything down, and then made several trips from the old location, to the new location carrying video camera equipment, still photography equipment, etc., and on and on. After getting everything in the blind, I took Henrietta to her new location, about 10-yards from the blind.
I walked back to the blind, unceremoniously climbed in the window, turned around and looked directly into the beady-red eyes of three, yes, three tom turkeys standing about 20-yards out, just beyond Henrietta. They looked at me, and cocked their heads back and forth. I stood frozen, darting my eyes down to my bow that lay at my feet.
As a photo journalist, I am ashamed to say, the video camera was off, of course, if it had been on I guarantee America’s Funniest Home Videos would have had a field day.
I do not know where those birds came from, they never made a sound. I waited for them to move first, hoping they would turn around and I could grab my bow, at this point if I had my 9MM strapped to my hip I would have taken them out with it, they were taunting me, I could see it in their eyes.
One moved away, the others watched me, another moved away, one watched me.
The music from the old westerns started playing through my head, you know the one, where the gunfighters are standing in the street, eye to eye, trigger finger itching, waiting for someone to draw.
OK, this was it, I was ready to move, the third bird was ready to leave, and the first bird stopped and turned around, watching me, while the third bird made his move to leave.
I couldn’t believe it, they had a strategy.
I went for my bow, as the three sauntered well out of range.
Should I follow?
I was ready to come right out of that blind and run them down. If I could get within 20-yards I could make the shot and would become a successful turkey hunter this spring. At that point I would have tried to shoot them out of the air.
I sat down and laughed.
Such is how I ended my spring turkey hunt this year. I am not sure who was hunting who this year, I am sure if the turkey had been armed I would have been on their dinner menu, the turkey and their dime-sized brain outsmarted me by tenfold.
I am not ashamed to admit it, the turkey are safe from the mighty huntress for another year.
When I went out the following day I never saw or heard a bird.
I would like to think I had them running scared, but humbly, I must admit, I am sure I am wrong.
