I returned Sunday from my annual trip from New Mexico to the Berkshires of western Massachusetts to hunt with a good buddy that I've been friends with since hunter safety class when we were sixteen, more than a few decades ago. Wednesday was my first day and the gobblers were vocal. I worked with one bird for an hour and a half. He came in from the edge of hearing at about 6:30 and worked in a big arc to as near as 70 yards or so. Gobbling his head off, but wary all the same. During that whole time I got one fleeting glimpse of him even though he crossed what looked like open forest. He faded away and returned twice, but the third time he drifted farther away along the ridge we were on and I figured he wasn't coming in. At 8:00 I started an hour long loop with sporadic calling to bring me to the other side of where I last heard him. Working back along the ridge he was on, it wasn't long before I struck him again, and this time he was ready to come in. He has been through some battles. His beard was beat up --- thought it was a double beard at first --- and the tips of both 3/4" spurs were broken off. A 3 yr old bird that weighed 19.5 lbs.
I worked another bird for an hour or so the next day and eventually called him in to 20 yards, but got busted on the gun mount. I don't think I was ready to kill another bird and was being sloppy. The third day was strange. A mass of cold, moist air moved in overnight and the birds were silent right after fly down. A valley that held 10 or 12 good gobblers the day before was eerily quiet. We decided to cross the valley and hunt the opposing ridge. I had let four gobbling jakes walk there last year and hoped for good karma. My buddy hunted the lower meadows while I did a creep-and-call about two thirds up the slope along a bench. About a half mile in I thought I heard a very faint gobble from down below, dropped over the lip of the bench and called again. Two very distinct gobbles from two different toms. Called again. Double double gobbles! These two were hot. Saw the crimson headed first one at 100 yards and the second soon after. As they came closer their long beards caught my eye. Trying to make the move on two toms at twenty yards is no mean feat. I let the first one pass a bit, and made my move when the second passed behind a tree.
This was a 2 year old bird, based on the 3/4" spurs, but with a 9 5/8" beard. I like to think these two were jakes I let walk last year. At the same time I was calling these two, my buddy was working a third bird down below but got busted at the last minute.
I love the woods here. No turkeys when I was growing up there, but plenty now. Here's a turkey killing spot I've got picked out for next year.
An ancient beech tree next to a rock wall and at the edge of what must have been a meadow a hundred years ago.
Already dreaming about next year.
