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by David Rearick
27 April 2009

Vital statistics
Beard - 10"
Spurs - 1"
Weight - #23

After returning from our bow hunt in Indiana, Walt and I received an invitation from friend and teammate, Jesse Little, to hunt with him in north-central Ohio. Since his location was only 40 minutes from my folks' place, we quickly snapped up the invite. That evening, we roosted our birds for the next morning - right behind the cabin! Those gobblers couldn't have been 200 yards from the porch. Needless to say, we were pretty psyched for the hunt. And due to the way the ridge lay and where the birds were roosted, I had a really good feeling about the hunt. Little did I know.

Long before daylight the next morning, Jesse, Walt and I scaled the near-vertical bank to reach the top of the ridge. At the approach of daylight, one of the gobblers started to sound off. Once that happened, I knew we had him! I gave him some soft tree yelps, and he responded immediately. As if he had read the script, he pitched off the limb and was on his way. The instant he crested the hill and saw our gobbler and hen decoys, he went into full strut. On he came, and it became obvious he was none too happy with the "other" strutter on his turf. Without warning, the old gobbler gave us the "Oh No - Let's Go!" wing flip; a warning that he would soon be leaving us. Sensing this change, Walt said he was on him. With Walt's word, I squeezed the trigger - and was greeted to the sight of our give-me gobbler flying away, all feathers intact! Later when we reviewed the tape, it became obvious that it was a small dead cherry tree, and not Mister Longbeard's head, that had taken the Beretta's full charge. Disappointed we were, but relieved to know the gobbler hadn't been hit and would in all likelihood return to the ridge.

After our big MISS, Walt and I went back into town - my hometown, by the way - and planned our hunt the next morning. Once at my folks' place, I threw my camouflage clothes in the washer, as they were sorely in need of a good washing - and then immediately fell asleep. Waking up at 4:45 the next morning, I realized all my hunting clothes were still soaking wet. Tossing them in the dryer, I just knew we were going to be late to our hunting spot for the morning. As soon as the BuckBrush britches were dry, we were on the road - unfortunately, day was dawning fast, and we still had 15 minutes to go. Pulling into the farmyard, the clock in the rig said 6:20 - I knew the birds would already be on the ground, so we grabbed our gear and headed for the timber. After only 150 yards, I suddenly caught a glimpse of a turkey's head and what appeared to be the tips of a strutter's tail fan. Hitting the deck, I explained the situation to Walt, and as if to punctuate my explanation, the bird gobbled! Gathering our gear, we quietly eased back into the timber and made a small end run in order to get into better position. The strutter decoy went out, the camera went up, and we settled back to let everything calm down.

Once Walt gave me the go-ahead, I let out a soft series of yelps - and the old boy hammered right back! Fifteen seconds later, I called again, and this time the bird was definitely closer. One final call, and any second, the longbeard would show himself. Almost instantly, I saw the bird's head, but it wasn't until he stepped into the timber that I noticed the short little beard sticking straight out of his chest. Jake Bird! I was a little disappointed; by the sound of the bird's gobble, I would have bet the farm he was an adult. Just then, another head entered my field of vision - and this bird immediately went into strut. Too bad, though, as his high central tailfeathers indicated another jake. Still, I thought we could salvage the experience and get some footage of the birds working the full strut decoy, so for laughs, I gave out another soft series of calls. Movement! And this one was no jake bird! Full strut, a long beard, and he was looking for love! As soon as he came over the bank, the gobbler - with a lone hen - advanced menacingly on the two younger birds, and it wasn't long before he had run them from the scene. Then it was the strutting decoy's turn - BAM! Both spurs to the head! Just as the gobbler's feet hit the ground, I heard my two favorite words from Walt - Kill Him! With no dead cherry trees in the way, the tom took the entire charge of #5s to the noggin. My watch read 6:40 - we hadn't been out of the truck for 20 minutes. A quick hunt, yes, but one with a lot of sentimental value to me as this was the first gobbler I'd ever taken in my home county. And my first Ohio gobbler in several years. Close to home, and close to the heart; just the way turkey hunting should be.

Our strategy - Yes, we were late getting into the field, but we took our time going in, stayed vigilant, and once we spotted birds, used all the available cover to back away before setting up.