Finally got a bird to play this morning. It was about the weirdest thing ever. First of all, it's one of the coldest mornings I've ever been out. Like, bitter cold. To the point I thought my eyelids were going to freeze. After deciding not to call at all until the birds hit the ground, I fear I'd made a fatal mistake. Having said that, being so close to them on the roost wasn't going to do my buddy and I any favors. Sounded like there were 5-6 gobbling in that little wood lot and several on the neighboring farms. Birds pitched down and walked away. They got quiet and we started contemplating whether I should've used decoys this morning instead of opting not to.
Had to pee and this is where things got super stupid. We get up, both go whiz in different directions as we debated what to do. We figured if we went across the edge of the field and got into the woods on the other side, we could loop back to the field edge and try to draw them in. Didn't make it there. Started across the field and as we neared the woods, I could see 2 birds at the gate. Told my friend to get down. Eased up with my binoculars and now there's 7. Two toms, one hen and 5-6 jakes appeared when it was all said and done. Figured calling was pointless but threw out a series of yelps anyway. 3 jakes turned and came under the gate. Next thing we know, they're all coming. Another series of yelps and they picked up the pace.
My buddy had never shot a bird before so I told him to pick one and I'd bat cleanup but def wanted him to score. He shoots and that's when it really got weird for me. All the birds jumped but the second tom pretty much ran down the gun barrel as were laying down in the field. So yeah, it was grueling. 2 sets of yelps, 2 dead birds. His was a bit farther but mine was flattened at 27 steps on a dead run at me. Why all the others scattered into the woods and he chose to meet the Angel of Death is beyond me. But, here he is.
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