I’d been scouting and had seen birds in the area the week before.
April 19th, Opening day. The forecast was bluebird skies, no wind, 45* with a high of 70*. Sunrise is 6:33a and shooting time is 6:03a.
So there I was standing in the gravel road waiting looking up at the Big Dipper and the Little Dipper. Just as the stars fade and twilight is coming on, an owl decides to check my heart strength and cuts loose right in my face across the road ditch probably 25 feet. My hair stood up and for a split second I thought Ole Squatch was having my esophagus for breakfast. Kinda one of those moments when your trying to sneak through the woods and you step in the middle of a covey of quail. You make that “HHOOOFF” sound when your body tightens up real good.
Yep, You’ve been there!!
Knowing now that I’m going to live, the owl is my new friend. At twilight he hoots again and triggers a gobble 100 yards out. It’s a little to bright and the leaves are too dry to ease in closer so I sat down against a big pine. Wasn’t long until I hear a horrible sound. HENS!!
From my experience, chances are very low of tagging a Tom right off the limb. Now with lover girls at his side, my chances are 10% of 10% but I’m thinking positive. Over the past 50 years I’ve trained myself to think positive even when my ship is sinking. I started calling to the hens hoping they’d be interested enough to head my way.
Fly down time....
Flap flap flap flap flap, they all pitched down. I called soft and aggressive but nobody was interested so they worked their way over the ridges and out of hearing. No problem, ain’t like it’s never happened before. It’s now about 6:15a.
BAM!!! Couple minutes later a gobbler lets it rip and it sounds like he’s standing on my truck hood. I beat feet and head to him. I get set up out of sight of my truck. I called and he responded. Heck yeah-I’m ready!! Well he ain’t...
He’s moving fast and just like that.... He’s gone to Waffle House I reckon. That’s ok, my boat has a couple holes in it already this morning so I just flip on the bilge pump and keep fishing. I’ve had a helluva day so far and I’m smiling.
Couple minutes later I hit the crow call and hear one bust loose up on top of a steep ridge back West. Jump to my numb feet and off to race number three. I get to about 125-150 yards from him and I’ve been right where he’s standing several times. I started grabbing saplings and scratched and crawled my way up. I had to get up at his level on the ridge to have a decent chance at him. He gobbled at every crow, woodpecker and horsefly that would make a sound.
I reached my stopping point about 100 yards from him. I was still at a lower level but I didn’t want to bugger him.
Out of breath and heart pounding in my ears, I’m almost positive I hear my owl buddy do a half-hoot across the valley. The bird gobbled at the owl and he’s still standing in the same spot. I scratched the leaves and gave a few soft yelps.
I told him I loved him!
I told him I needed him!
I told him I was hot and ready to throw down on the tailgate!!!
POW!! He answered me. I aimed the pipe in his direction and hit the fun switch.
He’s gobbling flames🔥 and coming straight to me. I’m not sure if he’s going to be at my level or higher if I get lucky enough to see him. Then things get quiet....
I hear “PFFT-DROOOM” and another “PFFT-DROOOM”. He’s drumming hard at 20 yards behind a couple big trees at my level. There’s a blown down tree on my side of the two big trees. I could see him thru an open spot. He’s made it around the two big trees and I could see a full fan but I also wanted to verify a beard. He turned circles strutting and drumming behind the blowdown and I knew he was hung up right there.
Next thing I know he disappears....
Then he pops up on my side of the blowdown. He stretched his head up looking for the lady he’d heard. He was looking right down my gun barrel at 12 steps and that “HHOOOFF” feeling hit my chest again.
He looked at me and kinda tweaked his head a little. I swear the look on his face was like “What’s that big leafy blob?”
6:50am and the #6’s were on their way home. My ship didn’t sink and I’m grinning like a possum in a gut pile.