Not by a real snake, but it would sure explain the last few days.
I just got back from a wonderful hunt in Arkansas on a friends farm. No dead birds for genetic analysis, but it wasn't because they didn't do their part. Lemme preach on it.
1st morning: I went to an area where I knew that the birds liked to roost when I was there last year. Sure enough, there is one hammering down a ridge from the road I'm walking on. I slip quietly down the road and hear a second bird tree yelping right in front of me. This bird quietly yelps a few times...they he gobbles! It's a gobbler and not a hen! I freeze where I am as he is in a tree that has him about eye level with me at 40 yards away. Eventually he flies down and I spot him for a moment through the leaves. The original bird is now on the ground and gobbling consistently. I figure that the closer one was going to head down to his buddy, so after about 5 minutes I start slipping down the gravel road. A few steps and I hear a sharp cluck from the closer one. He heard me in that gravel, but doesn't exactly know what I am. I pick a close tree and walk over to it, clucking quietly on a mouth call while I get set up. I scratch in the leaves a little and get propped up. Directly he gobbles and he is very close and getting closer. He gobbles just out of sight in front of me, but I can't get a good read as to which direction he will come in. Finally I spot him moving to my right as he crosses through an opening in the limbs. He steps behind a screen of vines, I shift the gun slightly to the right side of the vines. Countdown to flopping bird is in 3, 2...and suddenly birds are flying off and I spot the gobbler running away. NOW, I KNOW that he didn't see that movement! I see something moving on the road right next to me out of the corner of my eye. It is the family's Bloodhound dog! They woke up back at the house and let him out to pee. Apparently, he picked up my scent in the yard, trailed me, and stumbled right into the setup at EXACTLY THE WRONG TIME. I have been busted by non-turkey entities before, but never so perfectly synchronized and this close to popping a cap in one's head!
That afternoon I set up on a different ridge where another gobbler likes to come and roost. I set up just off of a woods road and was facing watching for him to come up on it from the south. As it got later, the squirrels came out and started rustling in the dry oak leaves. At about 6:30, I hear a rustling in the leaves to my left, turn slowly to look at the squirrel and instead just spot Mr. BigMouth as he strolls off of the road at a distance of 13 yards and drops down the ridge out of sight. I cluck to him twice and never see nor hear from him for the rest of the afternoon.
Day 2: Cold, rainy and windy. No gobbling in the morning. That afternoon, I went back into the same woods to try and catch one of the two gobblers as they went to roost. Started raining hard with thunder and lightning so I had to pull the plug on that hunt early.
Day 3: Nothing on the morning hunt. That afternoon, I head back to the creek draw where they roosted before and setup. Finally heard one of them gobbling nearby and he eventually moved to roost in the same area that I heard him the first morning. I called to him and got him cranked up pretty good, but he didn't want to come across the creek. Eventually he flew up and gobbled on the roost. I walked up the creek bank quietly for 200 yards and made a direct south exit off of the creek.
Day 4: The next morning, I retrace my steps to position myself at about 200 yards up the creek from his roost. Right at dawn, I hear one get cranked up right down in that direction. I start slipping silently towards him in the wet leaves. Eventually I realize that the gobbling bird is not the same one on the creek. He is gobbling good and I figure that he is roosted right on a powerline right of way through the woods. I head out to him, get set up about 100 yards and call to him. He is hot and gobbling really aggressively, but does not want to move off of the powerline. I shut up and let him stew in his hormones for a while. The next time he gobbles is about 10 minutes later but still on the powerline. I cup my hand over my mouth and throw a yelp behind me to simulate that this hen is leaving out. His next gobble is facing me, the next one is facing me and closer, the next is closer yet and then I spot his white head through the thicket. He walks up to 35 yards from me and he is huge! I calmly line up the sights on his neck and send HeavyWeight7 on his merry way to deliver death. The Giant doesn't flop around wildly in the leaves, instead he runs off. He. Runs. Off. HE RUNS OFF!
I still have no earthly explanation for the hallucination that I just witnessed. I get to my feet and drag my turkey-missing-azz back to the house where i hear Mr. BigMouth from a few days ago absolutely tearing the leaves off of the trees on the ridge right by the house. Please, dude, just shut it up, I am done, I have to head to the crib. The 6 hour drive back home could have had 2 old, giant gobblers in the cooler, but instead it was slam full of cold shame and bitter humility.
As is the mantra of every lousy college football program, "Wait until next year!" I just want to see the expression on their electric blue faces when they get a load of my "Big20XL" TSS hand loads.
FullChoke
