The spring had has been late this year and I struggled to find or hear any birds on any of the farms I hunt, until the four days prior to the first day of season. In that time frame I located a couple birds and managed to get eyes on them the morning and evening before the hunt. Hours and hours of scouting gave me the extra boost of confidence I needed as I eased through the darkness to my per-determined set up.
I was over an hour early for fly down time, because my only options for a good set up were very close to the birds, or where I thought the birds would be. The high wind and wet ground made my approach much easier and as I hit the middle of the field I placed my Dave Smith Hen decoy and eased to a tree to wait.
The birds I had seen in this area consisted of two gobblers, one who seemed to have all the hens each day and one that was alone strutting on the fringes, a satellite bird if you will. I knew the boss would be tough with plenty of hens to go around so I focused on the satellite bird, and I had seen him in the very spot that I now waited just one morning ago. Of course it was 30 degrees warmer the day before so the weather factor still had me nervous.
Fast forward an hour and fifteen minutes of sitting in the light rain and cold winds, and I have not heard a peep out of any birds and it is light enough they should be on the ground or at least thinking about it. I let out a series of tree yelps and to my dismay...no response. My second series of yelps was a little louder and with that I heard a faint half hearted gobble 150 yards to my right.
I sat overlooking a small bottom hay field, approximately 80 yards wide and 300 yards long, the bird that gobbled was in the timber at the end of the field 150 yards to my right. I hit the call again and this time two birds answered and almost immediately a black blob appeared on the edge of the field. The tom stepped out into the field, raised his head and looked my direction, then went into half strut and just stood there. I coaxed him with the mouth call and he gobbled, along with the bird that was still in the trees behind him.
He took a few steps my way, but was in no way in a hurry to move towards the lone hen. Just then the wind picked up and it began to rain harder, and the tom turned to head into the timber, and I was sure my hunt was ending. However, as the first tom entered the timber, birds began flying down out of the trees, several hens and the other gobbler fluttered down through the branches into the timber, and as they did the first tom immediately headed back for the field.
His body language was entirely different this time and thought it sounds strange, I knew at that moment, even though he was 140 yards away, that he was going to be in front of my gun. He trotted a few yards then popped into strut, as four hens and the second gobbler appeared on the field edge. I hit the call to convince him and both birds gobbled. Again he broke strut and started a fast walk towards me. I got down on the gun and as a lefty, I had to peak to my right from time to time to watch him strut and walk, strut and walk, across the field to the hen decoy. His white head shown with brilliance against the rain darkened surroundings and as he closed to 30 yards, he again went into full strut and closed the last 15 yards to the decoy in full strut.
I took one more look at the other bird and could tell he was noticeably bigger, but with the struggles finding birds and all the "coulda/shoulda" moments in the past, I decided a bird in hand was the way to go. I settled the bead, and squealed on the call to make him raise his head and BOOOM, dead bird. Bird 1 of 2014 on the ground. He was an average 2 year old with a straight 9" beard, 3/4" spurs and weighed 21 lbs 6 oz.
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