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By: Bob
Hendricks
It was a tough day of turkey hunting. I had hiked hill
after hill in search of gobblers. It was a hot day for early spring and
my camo coveralls were already feeling heavy
causing me to sweat.
Jeff, a good friend of mine and I were hunting downstate Illinois. Jeff
was the caller of the two of us and a great caller he was. We had
managed to get some return gobbles to our calls only to have them go
silent on us.
 Jeff and I proceeded to hunt the
ridge living gobblers and managed to get a gobbler interested enough
that he was coming in to take a second look. We had set three hen
decoys out and I was positioned with my back to a tree while Jeff sat
ten yards back and began calling sequences.
My eyes scanned the ridge top and all along the ridge edges. The
gobbler was getting louder and louder as he inched his way towards our
set up. I tried hard to settle my pounding heart and hold the Winchester 1300
on my knee with my head down on the barrel. “ He’s
only a big bird,” I kept telling myself, but my heart was having none
of it as it raced nearly out of my chest.
All of a sudden there he was. He was big and had a rope for a beard. He
was accompanied by two other gobblers. When I thought he was in range
to shoot him I pulled the trigger. Expecting the bird to fully be laying on the ground but I was heartsick to see him
fly up and away totally unscathed.
What happened Jeff Questioned? I don’t know I
said but inside I figured more than likely in my excitement I didn’t
keep my head down on the barrel and shot over the old gobbler’s head.
“ Well you know what this means” Jeff smiled
and said. Yeah I know I said we got to climb yet another ridge. In
short order we were off on another hike up one of the steep hills. The
folks in that part of the country call them hills but I call them
mountains.
I was nearing the top of the ridge and out of breath asked where to now
Jeff?” Right up here, just sit down against that tree”
Jeff put a hen decoy out and came back and sat down beside me. Jeff
began doing what he does best on his turkey calls and I swore this time
I would not blow it.
All of a sudden I heard a terrible commotion. There was spitting and
feathers flapping and all sorts of movement coming from my left. There
in full view were eight turkeys and they were fighting each other like
there was no tomorrow. I marveled at how they could jump up in the air
and jab their spurs out at the other bird. All the time they were
coming closer to the hen.
These guys were in love and they were having a very heated brawl over
who was going to get to walk away with Ms. Decoy. I sat motionless as I
watched this spectacular WWF like event. There was no tag teaming every
fighter was all for himself. The ferocity in which they fought was
sobering as I watched kick after kick from the spurred fighters.
One Tom in particular walked to the forefront and was closing in on the
decoy. He was clearly the top gobbler of the gang and he had no trouble
letting the others know as he had battled his way to the front. He
walked with confidence his eyes locked on Ms Decoy who was now purring
and looking seductive.
Sweat ran down my face in small rivers as I fought the dreaded turkey
fever. I held the Winchester
1300 like it was my best girl and glued my face down on the barrel. “ Come on old boy” I whispered “ one more step and
you are mine”. At that point the others were catching up and it was now
or never as I pulled the trigger on my turkey gun nicknamed “the widow
maker”. In an explosion of a #6 Winchester turkey
load the gobbler reeled like a drunk on Saturday night. In a heartbeat
it was over and the other seven turkeys were scattering like ants on an
anthill.
‘You nailed him” Jeff yelled, and I busted out with a laugh of relief
for having redeemed myself. This had been a great hunt and I wondered
if I would ever get to witness another turkey fight like I had seen
today. I had a front row seat to one of the most spectacular sights in
nature, an all out turkey brawl, and the winner was me!
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