I set up before five A.M. to hopefully hear some gobblers nearby. Well, just prior to six, I heard a gobbler, but he wasn’t nearby. He sounded far of, probably, in posted land, but possibly just outside of the line. I had to go down over the back side of the hill to work towards the bird without going into the posted land.
After I reached the end of the posted land I called and heard a gobbler. He was downslope in property I have been given permission to hunt turkeys on. He answered twice and I reversed my position to try to lure him into the open woods. However, he moved downhill eventually crossing a township road and a creek before trekking upslope. I went after him and circled around trying to get above him, but I settled for slightly below his gobbling. Moving any higher on the hill would be risky.
My mother, Ruth trying to hold up the gobbler. It was funny!
I called very little as the bird went silent. After some time, he gobbled close to me but below me. I readied the 870 Remington. Frustrating to me when he began gobbling farther below my position. I couldn’t risk moving but I tried another call sound…slate!
He seemed to like that sound and began climbing upslope to my calling site. I was ready!
The shot was at twenty-nine yards. The gobbler weighed a little over twenty-one pounds. The beard was ten and three-quarters inches in length. The spurs were one and one-eighth inches long. It was a little over three hours from when I first heard the gobble covering two hills.
The bad part was the mile long walk back to the jeep. The exertion caused as asthma coughing spell for ten minutes.
I stopped at my mother’s as per tradition. She struggled to pick the bird up. She was smiling from ear to ear!
Larry A. Smail's Blog 
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