Larry A. Smail's Blog

Virginia Bluebells…a native wildflower.

Bob, my step-father,  and I climbed the hill in the early minutes prior to dawn. The mile walk was a little tiring for him and we stopped periodically. Prior to reaching the planned goal I heard a distant gobble or two. We continued on the last 200 yards and realized a gobbler was greeting the dawn 100 yards or less over the hill’s edge. We set up.

Tent Caterpillars are already eating the new foliage.

I placed Bob with his right shoulder being concealed by a fallen pine top. This top still had needles and since he is right-handed getting to turn and take a shot would be extremely difficult. The woods we were in was predominately pines with a very open deciduous canopy over the edge. Between these two habitats is a grassy border. This is where I had called in the three young gobblers last Friday.

The gobbling intensified after my initial soft yelps and clucks. I quit calling  for the gobbler knew where we were. I coached Bob about trying to hold his shotgun towards the site where the gobbler may show.

The gobbler quit gobbling and, shortly, we, both, saw movement. This was the fanned tail of the gobbler. The terrain did not allow to see anything else. In a few minutes a loud and close gobble exploded to our right. I still expected him to follow the grassy area. I told Bob to concentrate to his right on the grassy area.

Four-leaf Clover-for luck!

Suddenly, I could hear the soft rustling of a gobbler walking and CLOSE! I expected the big bird to come behind us now since a right-of-way was present there. I told Bob to be still.

A long bearded gobbler walked out from behind the pine top concealment directly in front of Bob. The distance was SEVEN STEPS! Bob’s shotgun was facing too far to the left and he didn’t have it anywhere near to where it needed to be to get a shot. I whispered, as the bird became nervous and walked towards the grassy area. I said when the head gets behind a tree aim the shotgun and shoot. Bob tried to pull up, but slowly, and the bird was flying for parts unknown.                                                                                           

A disappointed man was the result. We discussed the things he had done wrong. The events were a learning experience.

Later, farther down the ridge,  I received some gobble talk to my calling. The bird came to about seventy yards and shut up. I surmised a hen entered the scene. I felt confident for a while that Bob may have another chance.

We are going to try again later this week.

White Trilium