By this point I'd hiked back almost 2 miles into Virginia public land for four days straight to wrestle with this pair of stubborn gobblers, and was starting to feel a bit battle worn from the close encounters and the 6-8 ft black rat snakes that lined the fire road on the way out.
Earlier in the year I had identified these public areas that I was interested in, but also reached out to a few private landowners to try and expand my options. One of them graciously obliged, so Tuesday the 18th I decided on a change of scenery.
It had been unduly warm and muggy the few days prior, but the 18th had a noticeably crisp chill to the stiff morning breeze as I walked out of my family vacation home to my truck. This is where my father intended to retire and spend out his days, had a heart attack not permanently and prematurely deprived him of his plan in November 2020. It's hard not to think of that each time I fill up my coffee mug and head out alone into the darkness. My parents have owned the place since 2015, and this is the first time I thought to head there for an early jump on my turkey season. The only thing I know for sure, is that he's aware and smiling down on my efforts.
The farm I had gained access to was about 25 minutes from the house, and I arrived with enough time to sip down the rest of my coffee and consider my game-plan. I parked next to a split in the tractor road, one branch leading into a block of mature hardwoods that had been partially logged about 5 years ago. The other gained some elevation and curved to the right before reaching a dilapidated old barn overlooking a series of farm fields and wood blocks. I decided to lean my back against the barn and listen for gobbles before deciding on any significant movements.
As the sky slowly began to illuminate the horizon, no less than 5 birds begin gobbling about 400 yards down the slope of the field and into the woods. The tractor road followed the edge of the woods until the general area the birds were gobbling from, then it cuts into the woods at a slight angle before curving right, leaving a small triangular strip of woods on the field side of the road.
I quickly and quietly cut the distance and found suitable cover in the triangle strip of timber, with the idea to call him up to the curve in the road and have a shot both into the field and down the tractor road. I got settled and let out a few soft clucks and purrs with an immediate response from all in attendance. I ignored my innate desire to call and make them gobble again, though they needed no further encouragement. These turkeys gobbled consistently to any sound at all over the next 20 minutes. I decided to give them one last cadence as I predicted they would be on the ground in the coming moments. Expecting a roaring round of acknowledgments, I was instead met with dead silence. Unsure what to think of that, I sat patiently for them to announce their position again. Soon the gobblers sounded off again, this time definitively from the ground, and one bird had evidently severed himself from the group in favor of my direction.
As I began to consider the possibility that the bird would be coming to seek out my call, I realized I really wasn't adequately positioned to cover both the field and the road, and I would have to choose. The bird gobbled again, seemingly to let me know that he was really coming and I have short time to make a decision. Just then a small bird came flying up the tractor road and landed directly on the end of my shotgun barrel, almost as if to affirm my suspicions of the turkey's impending arrival. I decided then that the little bird was probably correct and the turkey would probably scan the field from the road rather than step out into the open.
About 15 seconds later he was standing in full strut at 45 yards - white cue ball head and all - at the corner of the road. I watched him scan hard into the field as he slowly came out of strut and lifted his head high to mark his hen. I stared at him until I was crosseyed like I do every time - anxiously waiting for him to make a choice. He stretched his wings, dropped his head low and start making his final approach. I picked a hole in the brush along his path and waited for him to appear, which only took a few more seconds. He stepped out into my shooting lane at 20 yards and just like that, after miles and miles of snakes, I had my first Virginia longboard.
Even if we hadn't spread his ashes there, I would know my Dad's spirit inhabits that County, and now a piece of mine does too. My father had given me many gifts in my life, both material and otherwise, this being another that I'll keep with me forever.
Thanks for reading, have a great rest of your season if you're still after it, stay safe.
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