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Bossy Ole Hen
Written by: John Tumbelty
03/04/2004

The Third day of the spring season had rolled around. The first day encouraging, the second day should have been good, but I decided to do my best impression of a cartoon character instead. However, this day I was determined to do everything correct, putting my 27 years of hunting experience to the test. Dot my I’s and cross my T’s so to speak! I was in a great area that had produced many sightings during scouting missions. I made sure to get to my hunting area plenty early so I could take my time reaching my location. I used a fence line that bordered an overgrown grass field and a cow pasture to make my approach to the woods. I quickly made it to the tree line and quietly slipped through two sets of fence and tiptoed across a small stream-bed. It was a very warm morning, but it was also fairly quiet due to the lack of wind. My final 70-yard approach to my set-up area must have taken at least 45 minutes. I have found that if you move slowly into an area, even if you make noise, not alerting the birds on the roost they do not become alarmed. They have grown accustom to deer and raccoons making their way through the forest in the dark making noises. If you go in too quickly, this is not a natural sound and will have birds leaving the area before light.

I guess what I am trying to say is get up a little earlier, it will be worth the effort! When daylight finally arrived I had four gobblers going absolutely nuts every time I did anything with my call! They had to be no more than 50-60 yards away and I was set up perfectly, so I thought. A funny thing happened a few minutes into this morning…a dense fog rolled in and did not leave for about an hour and a half. I stayed put and the birds went silent. Seven, eight and nine o’clock passed and not a peep, or gobble for that matter. I did not even hear these birds fly down? One thing crossed my mind at this point, I don’t think it is too appropriate to share that thought though! I figured this is not fair; I took careful precaution to do everything just right! I moved to another area and found a shady spot because it had got quite warm. I called for an hour getting no response from my fine-feathered friends. My final move was back through a thick swamp to a hilly area of scrub pine, I had wanted to see if this particular area was in use. I worked my way up an old dirt road and found several dusting pods along the path. Working my way up a slight hill I had got about three-quarters the way up and a loud gobble shook the silence. This bird was no more than 125 yards away and just to the other side of the ridge. I had not called yet, so I eased up a little further and set up on a thick old oak tree. I got all my camouflage in place and popped in my mouth call. It was so hot I was not sure if I could muster up any sound from my dry pasty call. I clucked softly and worked my pitch up to a light yelp. Old Tom responded immediately. I figured he was around seventy-five yards away. I locked my gun into shooting position and waited to catch his movement. He gobbled again and I could hear him crunching in the leaves.

I figured any second now! About five minutes passed and he gobbled again…this time about 125 yards away and sounding as if he was vacating the area. Usually I try not to video call (that means loud aggressive calling like on the videos), however, it was 11:20 and time was running out. I started cutting loudly, he answered and I cut him off and cut even louder. He sounded as if he cut the distance in half as he gobbled again. I cut heavy one more time and then ended it with a couple of light clucks and purrs. I could now hear leaves again and he hammered out a loud gobble four times in a row! This was exciting! I clucked and waited…he gobbled and sounded like he was farther out and leaving again! Time to take charge…I cut real loud again and interrupted him on four occasions with aggressive cuts. This time he came in fast and I picked up movement. I purr-putted three times and he went into full strut about forty-five yards away. He was gobbling often at this point and poking his head about between puffing up. He came within fifteen yards his head a brilliant red-white and blue color. Stepping out from behind a tree and he looked right at me, stretching his neck out as if something wasn’t quite right. A loud blast from my Remington 11-87 and Federal premium 5’s and he toppled over. I quickly looked at my watch, which told me another ten minutes and no turkey dinner! This big tom weighed in at twenty-two and a half pounds and had a bushy nine-inch beard. His fighting spurs were one and one-eighth inches long. This was the first time I had ever called a mature gobbler in with aggressive calling! I guess sometimes it pays to be a bossy ole hen.