I needed a turkey hunting partner. Nathan, my thirteen year old grandson, said that he was interested. He has been shooting rifles competitively for several years. I felt comfortable that his shooting prowess was more than adequate.
So we selected several potential dates. The weather has been so unpredictable that I was concerned that we wouldn't find an appropriate weather day on the weekend.
My son decided that the experience was important enough to call it a field trip. My son called Nathan in sick from school and Nathan came to spend the night last Wednesday night. (Nathan is a straight "A" student. Missing a day from school won't hurt him.)
The forecast was calling for showers from 7 till noon. We decided to go anyway. As long as we could get to the shooting house before the rain started, we would be dry and cozy.
It only took one shake on his foot at 2:15. He was out of bed and dressed in no time. After wolfing down some cereal, we hooked the Honda Foreman behind the Hilander and left the driveway at 2: 45. (Yeah, that's 2:45 A.M. for those of you who don't turkey hunt.)
On the way to the farm, I told Nathan that we could avoid getting wet if we called in two gobblers by 6:30 and were back at the Hilander by 7.
It was the first day of Iowa's 4th season. I had a 4th season tag and Nathan's youth tag is good for all four seasons, so theoretically we could both shoot gobblers. (But the odds of shooting two toms are ridiculously low.)
We pulled into the farmhouse driveway at 3:45. As I pulled in, I glanced down the dirt road that leads a half mile to our land. Dry!!!! Good news.
We loaded the Honda, roared down the dirt road in 4th gear, and turned into our west field where we cut the lights and eased the Honda under the cable. From there on, it was red cap lights and quiet idling down the side of the field to the Honda's parking place between the woods and the CRP.
All of our equipment (decoys, lunches, extra clothes, turkey vest, etc.) except the shotguns went into my beach cart. (It's wonderfully handy. Much easier to pull equipment than to carry.) We carried our shotguns in their cases due to the potential for rain later in the day.
As we left the house, I noticed that we had a bright ½ moon. Walking in should be easy. But the predicted clouds had moved in by the time we reached the farmhouse. It's wasn't inky black, but we needed our red cap lights to get to the Feeder Shooting House on the north end of our large picked bean field.
The Feeder Shooting House sits high on a dike that divides the woods from the CRP and crop field. Out the north windows anything skulking in the woods can be seen. The east, west, and south windows give a panoramic view of the fields for hundreds of yards.
While Nathan moved equipment into the shooting house, I set out a Funky Chicken jake decoy and a DSD hen decoy 20 yards east of the shooting house on top of the dike where they could be seen from both the woods and the fields.
By 4:30, we were settled comfortably in the darkness of the shooting house awaiting the first hint of dawn and, hopefully, some gobbling. (My hunting buddy, Walt, designs and builds wonderful shooting houses. 6' x6' x 6' on 6' stilts with plexiglass windows, carpeted floors, and executive swivel chairs. What luxury!!!)
At 5:45, Nathan noticed a huge raccoon ghosting through the woods, headed east along Long Creek, a nice little creek that borders our farm on the North.
By 5:50, I was getting a little worried that we might not hear a gobble. I had hunted out of the Feeder Shooting House opening day of the 1st Iowa season without hearing or seeing a tom. But just then, a gobbler sounded off several hundred yards to the east of us. Long Creek swings south on the east side of the shooting house. I couldn't tell which side of the creek he was on. If he was on our side, we had a chance at him. If he was on the other side, he might decide not to fly the creek in response to my feminine pleadings. And, he was quite a ways away.
But, I slid my H.S. Strut Glass Witch out the east window and said in my most seductive hen talk, "Why don't' you come up and see me sometime, Big Boy." His resounding "GOBBLE!!!!" cut me off. Every couple of minutes I'd try to seduce him again. And every time he cut me off with a "GOBBLE!!!"
He was getting hotter and hotter. I was getting more and more seductive.
Then he went silent. After several more seductive attempts from me, I told Nathan that the gobbler had pitched down to the ground and might be headed our way.
At 6:05 a hen wandered out of the woods northeast of our food plot into the picked beans 200 yards east of us. She was followed by not one, but two mature gobblers. One look at their long, thick beards through the 8X Nikons told me that they were both shooters.
The two toms put on quite a display, fanning their tails and walking around and around the hen as she ignored them and fed casually through the beans, angling somewhat in our direction.
Odds of pulling a gobbler away from a live hen aren't good, but it was time to get ready just in case. Glasses and muffs on. Curtains behind us closed so that we wouldn't be silhouetted. Chairs slid silently into position. Shotguns put close at hand. Then it was time to watch the gobblers display through the Nikons.
I whispered to Nathan that we had two chances to harvest one. If the hen came our way, the gobblers would follow. Or if the hen wandered back into the woods and the gobblers lost sight of her they might remember us and come back later.
The two gobblers were intently focused on the hen. I didn't think they had noticed the Funky Chicken and the DSD. So I slid the Glass Witch out the window and said "Hi, ya sailor. New in town?" The nearest gobbler cut me off in mid-sentence. I had his attention.
All of this time, Nathan was happily watching the show through the 8X Nikons.
Two more soft pleadings from me brought him around and he took a few steps in our direction. He saw the decoys and started slowly our way. The second gobbler also saw the decoys. The second one was the dominant bird. He had no intention of letting the first gobbler have ANY hen, so he also slowly ambled our direction behind the first one.
"Nathan, time to put down the Nikon's and get ready to shoot. They are coming like they are on a string." I whispered.
But we had a decision to make. If they came along the edge of the field, the shot would be out the south window. If they angled through the CRP, it would be out the east window. I whispered to Nathan not to commit the shotgun to a window until they committed.
At 35 yards, the lead gobbler turned into the CRP and the second one followed. East Window!!!!
They were angling toward us, still walking at 25 yards, headed for the decoys. I think they would have gone up the dike right into the decoys if we had given them the opportunity. But we didn't. At 21 yards, I whispered "Shoot!"
It was a tough shot. The bird didn't have his neck extended as we would have preferred. Nathan didn't have much of a target without hitting breast meat with a lot of pellets.
But that 1 ¼ ounces of Winchester Long Beard #6s out of Nathan's Remington 870 gives a tight pattern at that distance. And Nathan had his head centered perfectly. That load rolled him right over on his back and he was DRT!!! (Dead Right There!!!)
The other gobbler turned back out into the field, trotting away toward the hen.
"Nathan, get your gun out of the window!!" Nathan pumped in a new Winchester load, clicked on the safety and moved simultaneously.
By the time I had replaced Nathan at the window, the gobbler was 57 yards away and still walking quickly. But, he had his head up high looking back toward his former compadre. I had a target.
That range might have been too far for 1 ½ ounces of TSS tungsten #6s.
But it wasn't. About 5 seconds after Nathan's bird took a dirt nap, the second one did too.
Nathan asked "Can I go get mine?"
I don't think he touched any of the steps getting out of the shooting house.
6:37 a.m. Lots of folks still asleep or on their way to work. And we had two mature gobblers down!
While I walked back to the Honda's hiding place, Nathan bagged decoys and brought equipment out of the shooting house.
By 7:30, we had taken the obligatory pictures, loaded the Honda and were back at the farmhouse. Tagged out and still dry. (Just like I had told Nathan earlier in the morning.)
I asked Nathan if hunting made him hungry. On the way home we stopped at McDonalds in Muscatine where Nathan wolfed an order of pancakes before I got my pancakes cut up.
By 11 a.m. all of the work was done. Turkeys cleaned and in the freezer. Beards and tails drying under a pile of Borax. Clothes and other gear put away for the season. Tags called in to the DNR hotline. Shotguns cleaned.
It was a great hunt. Nathan's first gobbler. And my first double.
All throughout the day, Nathan pulled his share of the load.
I'll share a shooting house with him anytime.
Ron
POST SCRIPT:
Nathan's bird weighed 17#, had a 10" beard, and 1" spurs.
Mine weighed 21#, had a 10" beard and 1" spurs.
The Funky Chicken is deformed and ugly. But it works.
