Larry A. Smail's Blog

I had resigned myself that the 2013 fall turkey season would probably be a turkey less year. The leg issue, luckily, has been healing well. I had not hunted much at all this season!

Note remnants of an old stone fence.

The Pennsylvania bear season was over and the last few days of the fall turkey season began on Thanksgiving Day. This morning, I was entering the woods hoping to find some turkeys to hunt. I walked up along a hill and found where two turkeys had walked across a gas line yesterday. I left  their tracks and quickly moved towards an area where the birds sometimes like to roost.

The early horizon.

In minutes I could see a turkey in a tree silhouetted against the pre-morning eastern horizon. I imagined more birds were scattered nearby so I closed in for a break. This is my preferred method of hunting turkeys. Scatter them, if possible, then call one back in. One lone bird flew from the tree. After a short break to listen I elected calling to see if the turkey might answer me. Nothing happened so off I went searching, and hoping, for a flock of gobblers I had seen a couple of times in October..

I called periodically as I walked along across the ice-crystal, laden snow cover. I wondered how hard it might be to walk up on turkeys. Suddenly, I received an answer and I set up to try to call the bird in.

Turkey scratchings

I watched and called and as the yelps came closer the turkey sounds abruptly stopped. I pondered what could have happened when I saw the large dark animal move through the woodlands. I was seeing a fisher! I would see plenty of tracks as I walked along.

I circled around to close the distance where I had heard the turkey. Gobbler tracks were easily viewed. I approached the crest of a round top when the undeniable sound of nervously moving turkeys was heard just over the crest of this hill. I moved as fast as I dared and began hollering as I watched six to eight turkeys running and taking to the air. I could tell, at least, some were gobblers.

Fisher tracks

I walked through the break-up attempt zone and moved about a third of the way downslope on a steep hill-side. I called home to tell my step-father, Bob what had happened and if interested get here as quick as possible. He arrived about one and a half hours later.

  I began calling loudly using gobbler yelping. A full hour elapsed when I first saw the turkey downslope and to my right. The bird began walking up the steep hill and became lost to my view due to the terrain. However, I could hear him walking.

I spotted the gobbler and could see a beard dangling from the breast. His eyes went behind a tree allowing the Remington 870 sight to lineup. The tom walked from behind the tree and the 40 yard shot was true and a fine gobbler was down. My rule of thumb is to try to limit my range to about 35 yards, but details of the hunt wouldn’t allow any further chance due to tree tops on the ground.

The gobbler sported an eight inch beard and two 5/8 inch spurs.           

Other sightings were a handful of deer and some squirrels.