Today was the turkey opener in Indiana, and like most, it started out with dreary weather. A steady rain and high winds beat on my truck as I parked at my friends farm. I questioned my sanity as I was "going in" with a flintlock fowler.
Today was the flinter's maiden voyage where turkeys were concerned. Despite the weather, I would use the fowler, prepped with some preventative rain resistance measures. Some of them lifted from a recent thread here. Thanks guys. :thumbsup:
I placed my usual setup of two hens and one Jake dummy at the edge of the bean field which borders a good sized river. This is the same property that I killed last year's Tom.
The farthest decoy was twelve yards from the box elder tree that my back would rest against. The nearest was ten yards away.
As dawn stubbornly arrived, I made a couple of tree yelps on a slate call, holding it under my chin so that it didn't get so wet it would decide to quit on me.
Didn't hear a thing.
Tried a few louder yelps about a half hour later.
Still nothing. Hearing no gobbles didn't come as a surprise as wet as the morning was.
I had resigned myself to the belief that the birds would not fly down for another hour or so. They can be so moody.
They can also be sneaky and unpredictable....
After my louder yelp session, and, my prediction regarding the turkeys timetable for fly down, I scanned the field to my left.
Oh my! Where did they come from?
Two gobblers about a hundred yards out and closing quickly. :shocked2:
I hurriedly shucked my oiled leather rainguard from the lock and hoped I wouldn't get caught getting that forty-plus inch barrel up and pointed in the general vicinity of my dekes. Being used to Ole Betsy, my short barrelled twelve gauge, the long fowler barrel seemed like a ten foot javelin!
I just knew I was gonna be busted.
I wasn't.
Both Toms mingled with my little "spread", strutting and revolving as we hope for them too. I enjoyed watching them for a few minutes, and then, picked one of them out. He was thirteen yards out.
Funny things can run through a guy's mind before taking a shot. I had two this morning.
My first thought was "this thing better go off"! :haha:
Secondly, I reminded myself, "follow through".
The gun did the first, and I muttled through the second. What a great hunt for my first flintlock gobbler.
Like a hunt a couple of years ago, I heard no gobbling whatsoever today.
The hunt didn't last very long, just a half hour past legal shooting time. I took him at seven o'clock.
He weighed twenty-three pounds, with an eleven inch beard and inch spurs.
I will go ahead and post this and dear friend Spence will post a couple of pictures later on (I hope).
Thanks for listening guys, and, good hunting!
Best regards, Skychief.
