The Sportsman's Corner

For several years on the opening day of gobbler season, my son, Bob, killed toms in the same woodlot. During my early scouting excursions last spring, it appeared that Bob might be able to repeat his previous seasons' successes; but about two weeks prior to the season the turkeys vanished from there and did not return. We had to hunt one of the other locations where I had been hearing gobblers.

Opening day found us set up in an oak grove where I had heard a gobbler just the day before. I had told Bob that I believed this spot was a good bet and that I thought no one else would be hunting there. Unlike me, Bob has to go to work every day, and he had to trust my judgment.

As darkness eased toward dawn, the songbirds began to chirp, and we eagerly listened for the tom I had heard gobbling the previous morning. It didn't happen. We held out till after 7:00, but we finally came to the conclusion that the gobbler had strolled off to another location. "Well, what do you want to do, Dad?"

"We could walk on out the mountain and hope yesterday's bird or another gobbler is hollering out there."

We had gone about a half-mile when Bob thought he heard a far-off gobble. "We have to get moving," he said. "We need to close the distance."

"No, we don't have to get moving; you do," I replied. "I'm going to stay right here. I won't be able to keep up with you. Maybe I can call one in here from the direction opposite the one you're headed."

So, off he went. Over the next couple of hours, I called every so often; but I didn't hear anything other than tweety birds. Finally, at about 10:00, I headed back to the parking lot where we had left our trucks. When I arrived, I saw that Bob was already there. Although I had not heard any shooting from where he had gone, I thought he might have a turkey. He didn't.

"I heard the gobbler only one more time," he related. "It sounded like he was across the big hemlock hollow. I tried calling from several different places, but I never got an answer. Maybe he was locked up with a bunch of hens."

Although that was how our opening day went, we both shot gobblers before the end of the season – Bob, just a couple of weeks later; me, not till the season was almost over.