Alright, I'm reaching back a few years for this one. It was my first season hunting these things. I just got back from Texas and had tremendous success there with two kills. Bobby told me how tough these Easterns were, but I came back ready for one.
I hit the woods with a lot of confidence, and a little cockiness. After hours and hours of walking, calling, listening, amd looking for birds I was done. Probably sweated out several pounds and was about to collapse. They got me. I knew these turkeys were here, but man I couldn't locate one if my life depended on it.
I got in my jeep and headed home. Beat down and defeated. After some water and air conditioning, I got a second wind. I just couldn't go home yet. I didn't even hear a gobble. So I went over to another tract of our property.
Pulling up to the gate, too tired to get out, I hung my Lynch box call out the window, hammered on it, and low and behold.....a gobble! Of course now my gear is in the back seat, my shotgun is unloaded and in my case, and this bird is hot. I don't know how fast I got ready, but I'm sure it was seconds.
I jumped out, ran into the woods a ways, called.....no gobble. Called again.....no gobble. Man, I thought I really screwed up and ran up on this bird. I collected my thoughts, pulled out a different call, sounded off some light yelps and GOBBLE! I set up and started working him in with some light purrs and clucks. He cut every call off.
Anyway, I'll wrap this story up. That 2 year old gobbler hit the dirt 59 minutes later. My first Eastern! I'll never forget it. Bobby Parks got the first phone call and I'm sure my heart was still pumping so fast and I was breathing so heavily, he probably thought it was an obsene phone call. My moral of the story is...DON'T GIVE UP. That bird ended up at the end of my shotgun at 1:30 in the aftrnoon.