At last, spring is in full swing! I enjoy that brief period of time when the buds are beginning to come out, but temperatures are still low enough that annoying bugs haven’t yet made their appearance. Not only that, but turkey season arrives on the second Saturday of the month. There are actually two seasons that come in this time of year. Turkey season which I have already mentioned, and the arrival of morels (toadstools) when temperature and moisture conditions are just right. It’s time for another turkey story but maybe with a twist combining two seasons in one.
This incident occurred a long time ago, likely in late April or early May. It was mid-morning, and I was moving around between ridges on Little North Mountain trying to find a willing gobbler. In the head of a rough rocky hollow I was making my way around and over boulders on an old deer trail. This was prime rattlesnake territory, so I had my eyes peeled to the ground carefully gauging where I would take my next step. Just as I came out of a rock maize, right in the middle of the deer path, I noticed a toadstool.
I don’t remember if I had heard any turkeys earlier that morning, but this discovery totally changed my focus. Hunting toadstools takes a certain amount of concentration. I started looking around and found several more in that same area. It wasn’t long until I had gathered a good handful in my hat. (Since then, I have started carrying a bread bag with me at all times.) As I continued poking around in the rocks and brush to find more toadstools, I unexpectedly heard a turkey gobble.
What to do? What to do? Will he gobble again? If I go after him, will he shut up about the time I get there? Is there a boatload of toadstools behind that blowdown? Can I find this spot again? I was focused on finding toadstools but there was a turkey on the next ridge not that far away. The gobbler did gobble again. In fact, when I responded with a series of yelps, he answered my call. That did it; without further ado I headed for the next ridge. This was a little awkward since I was carrying a hat about half full toadstools and a shotgun slung over my shoulder.
I had hunted the ridge the turkey was on many times before, so I knew about where the gobbler was located. When I got to the top of the ridge, I had to be careful because I was getting very close and didn’t want to spook him. I wouldn’t make any more calls until I knew exactly where he was, and I could find a good place to set-up. Gobblers establish strutting zones. Areas they strut and gobble and expect hens to come to them. In this case, I could tell the gobbler was moving back and forth on an old deer trail. He would gobble near the top of the ridge and then the next gobble would be further down toward the head of the hollow.
Keeping close track of his location, I found a place to set-up at the base of a large pine tree. It was on the edge of a depression on the top of the ridge. This spot was elevated and gave me a clear line of sight. I waited until he gobbled down in the hollow and gave a yelp and a cackle. With the shotgun up and ready I heard a response about halfway up the ridge. A short time later I saw movement and he gobbled right in front of me, but I couldn’t get a clear shot. He moved back down the side of the ridge and gobbled. I called again and waited. He returned to the same spot and this time I had a good look at his white head. I pulled the trigger, and the shotgun bucked against my shoulder. Silence! No flopping! No noise in the leaves! No turkey! I missed!?
Did I pull off my target? Did the gobbler move his head behind a branch? I later stepped the distance off at about 40 yards which is at the edge of good shotgun range.
Oh well! Disappointed, but at least I had a good hunt and got a skillet full of delicious toadstools out of the deal!
