Late Season Tom

Mornings get earlier and earlier as the turkey season progresses.  Coffee becomes the all-important essential as there is just no way around it, 3:45 AM is early!

 

I rolled myself out of bed and tossed my camo clothing on like a well-oiled machine as I prepared myself to head out on a hunt for the mighty May Tom.  I was particularly excited as I was out a couple of days earlier and had two toms circling up on a few hens and both were easily within bow range at less than twenty-five yards, however I was never able to get a clear unobstructed shot. -That is just tough to handle as everything was done correctly and the birds came in, but the moment of truth was absent.  This morning was going to be different though. (At least this is what I told myself.)  

Brother Gob

 I knew that there was a minimum of three bruiser birds on my property yet as I would catch them very frequently strutting their stuff on a couple of food plots I set up with trail cameras. Two of the birds I had nicknamed Brother Gob, akin to Brother Gib. (Those bell bottom wearing disco dudes called the BeeGees from back in the 60s and 70s for those not so musically following.) Brother Gob were two birds that enjoyed strutting together. And then there was the local heavy hitter, "Quarter Strut". This old boy had a real dangler of a beard, however he only had four tail feathers, which technically would land him as a 4/17 strut, but I gave him a little extra. -This Tom had cruised the gauntlet earlier on in the spring with one close call with what I thought looked like I coyote attack. We were out scouring the woods for sheds when I found a pile of Tom tail feathers all piled together. I looked for the carcass, but apparently the coyote must have drug it off, or at least I suspected... Until a couple of weeks later when Ol' Quarter Strut confirmed his place in legendary status showing off his four tail feathers in full strut mode! 

 

"Quarter Strut... Lives."

This particular late season morning was beautiful as it was clear and crisp. My wife had to bring her flowers in the night before as the temps dropped down around 29-30 degrees. After getting settled into the blind I patiently waited for some roost gobbling to commence, however the birds were extremely quiet this morning.-Not a gobble. Not a peep. The sun rose and I patiently waited, listening, and calling very sparingly.  At just before 6:20 AM a group of four hens came right in front of my blind purring at the jake and hen decoy I had out. I waited for a Tom that usually seems to shadow groups of hens like this usually looming like a mystery shadow 40-50 yards back. -No Tom here today though. The hens continued to loiter with the decoys and after about ten minutes a red-headed Tom was cruising up from the creek bottom. 

 

A beautiful May Tom.

I had the opening picked out as I envisioned the Tom would come right to the hens and the decoys as scripted, however this Tommy Boy writes his own scripts and stubbornly went into full strut on a trail 25 yards from me, but right behind a small deadfall that would definitely snag my arrow if I tried to sneak a shot through. I patiently waited as I encountered a great strut show. This was 1/2 of Brother Gob from what I determined. -A beautiful strutter. Two other Toms gobbled only a couple hundred yards away, but this bird stayed in strut and kept his beak shut. He had his gals located and was focussed on showing them his moves. However, I had seen enough of his moves and was ready to let an arrow fly. The hens had apparently seen enough as well as they exited the scene the same way that they showed up. As the hens walked by the (extremely horny) Tom he did something I've never seen a bird do. -He spilled his seed on the ground!  These birds are indeed odd creatures!

Turkey a-la-Wisconsin, a grilling pleasure.

Finally, the Tom took the smallest of baby steps while he continued to move in strut. These small steps brought him into an opening for me and as soon as he turned his fan I drew back. Once the Tom spun back he offered a broadside shot and I released the arrow from 25 yards. -Smack! The Tom was popped hard and he rolled onto his side and hobbled about fifteen yards and laid down just inside some timber, however his head remained up. I did look at him through my rangefinder and could see that he had some blood coming from his beak, the sign of a long hit more than likely. After just a couple minutes he got up and walked two yards and laid right back down. I could no longer see him as there was now a red pine lined up perfectly between us. I knew from past experience to just let the bird be, however he got up yet again as the hens started putting and he tried flying in the hurt/hobble/trying to fly technique that we've all seen once or twice? This maneuver got my blood pressure going as he was now completely out of site and moving into some young white pines that are very thick. With that, I quickly unzipped the blind and went into full caveman rundown mode with bow in hand. Within a few seconds the bird was secured and upon inspection my shot was about an inch back as it clipped one lung and blew up the top of the leg on exit.  I believe the Tom was a two year old as he weighed 19.4 lbs, a sported inch spurs, and an eight inch beard. 

What an unreal way to finish off the 2015 season!  I'm already looking forward to next spring. 

 

Gobble-gobble! -Luke