I didn't go Saturday, as I had an appointment to get the stereo in the Tacoma upgraded and updated. I didn't want to get setup on a bird and have to leave him.
My neighbor took his two sons and they went towards the back of the properties on his side. The oldest boy, just 12, missed a decent bird at 20 yards. The story was they had patterned the 870 with buckshot and it was fine, but the turkey load and choke change had him way off POA. Whatever. They had buggered the bird up pretty good by missing him that close.
I tried to work him Sunday morning and he was SPOOKY. Never got closer than 150 yards.
I went back this morning to see what I could do. He was about a half mile off the back tip of my property, but if I could heard him then he could sure as Hell hear me.
My property is only about 40 yards wide where I setup, but I knew if he was coming he'd come right through there that strip. So i staked a out nice comfortable stump and began the conversation.
His response was immediate and enthusiastic, so I replied in kind.
After that, I waited each time for him to speak first, and I changed my tones from loud and excited to soft and timid. The idea was to make him think there were at least two hens. One closer to him, and the other beyond that one.
He worked a ridge back and forth at about 600 yards from me, and it seemed like he was trying to find his way for a good approach. I was patient, and at times waited 15 minutes of more for him to gobble, then I replied again with the varying tones and volumes.
After well over an hour of working him, I could tell he'd found his approach route, and then he within 75 yards, but it was still thick to see him. I eased the call to the ground and scratched in the leaves to emulate the hen. He let out a stout double gobble and I brought the Benelli to rest on my knee and slowly dropped my cheek to the stock.
Silence.... for what seemed forever.
Doubt. Had he seen me move? Was he sneaking by me? Had he changed directions and was out of my line of sight.
Well, a little.
But he appeared slightly left of where I was expecting him to be, and in 20 yards he'd be off my land. Luckily, as a Southpaw, I had a little bit rotation left before I was getting into contortionist territory, and fanned and faced away from me, giving me the perfect chance to shift a bit. When he came back around I was ready. It was 25 yards and he never knew what hit him.
It's funny how those 3-1/2s beat you up when you're shooting the pattern board, and you don't even feel them when there's a delicious soft target in your sights.
He wasn't huge, but a 2 year old bird with a ten inch beard.
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A selfie when I got back to the house. [IMG2=JSON]{"data-align":"none","data-size":"full","src":"https:\/\/i.imgur.com\/Bu1J19r.jpg"}[/IMG2]
