He was one of 2 gobblers that my father had been after everyday for the last 2 weeks ( he's retired). He knew him and his habits well. My dad had watched him and his partner as close as 60 yds strutting. The turkey woke up with his large group of hens around him and didnt gobble until we convinced him to with a crow call around 6:30. We got on the side of a ridge a little over 100 yds from him. We had him answer 5 or 6 times and he seemed to be moving towards us at first but he was actually moving away. We moved towards his new direction and flushed 2 hens that were still in the tree at 7. He had actually walked by them gobbling. Women? We knew he was in the next hollow, we had heard him gobble last there and he normally spent alot of time there. we sat up on a low ridge that connected to the hollow that had a ton of fresh scratching and sign on it from the day before. We had carried a dog house blind with us and so we sat it up and called occasionally on a Cody slate call without any answer, other than a hen that came by at about 8. Anyway since nothing was gobbling anywhere, we just stayed there. We knew the gobbler has been hearing us most likely but was busy with his hens. We spent the next 4 hours calling listening, dozing off, whispering about past hunts and memories, taking turns watching out and calling. At about 11 we heard a gobble after calling on a slate call, we sat quite and he and his partner walked right up to us. They had finally finished with there hens and the ridge we were sitting on just happened to be the route they were taking to some fields they were using everyday. The one I shot was was 22 steps away when he got introduced to the new fowler. The other one was about 10 yards behind him lower down the hill, I didnt know he was there until I ran out there to pick this one up. I saw his partner trotting down the hill. He was in range, but safe because my Dad was still in the blind and I was carrying an unloaded gun. It was not the hunt where a gobbler is screaming his head off, you tree call and he flies down out of the tree and comes running up to you strutting and drumming, ignoring all the living hens in the woods. That is the story I am sure you wanted to read about but it rarely actually happens that way to me.
