There was no camera to record mt first, but here's the story;
I had already called several gobblers in for others to take before I got my first. Some of that was because the bird happened to pass closer to them or before it got to me and some of it was because I helped other hunters score because they couldn't call or didn't know what to do. I had no problem with that though. This day I was hunting by myself at a place I had found what looked to be a favored area for a gobbler to strut near the top of a hill in a small opening. I had my trusty Stevens single shot and my Lynch box call to work with. I was wearing some of the camo my brother gave me after he had left the army. A little after first light I started hearing tree calls and knew I had gotten into the thick of the turkeys. I could see movement on a limb about 45-50 yards in front of me and was startled when gobbling came from the bird moving around. I had never killed one or had one come in for another shooter right at fly down. A few hens flew down and went towards him, while he flew down going away from me. I knew he hadn't seen or heard me come in, nor had the hens, as they were in the trees all around me. I had slipped in that area a full 90 minutes before sunrise and held still & quiet the entire time. I hadn't made any calls for him to shy away from either. Once he got out of sight I cutt a few times on the Lynch and he answered loudly, but kept going away from me. He already had hens, so why should he come to one that wouldn't follow along? Discouraged, I sat tight & decided that maybe he'd cruise back through that area sometime later in the morning.
About 10 minutes after losing contact with that gobbler I threw a few cutts and yelps out just to see if I'd get a response. A hen answered my calls right quick and by her raspy tone I wasn't sure if it was a live hen or if a trespasser had snuck in where they shouldn't be. I got nervous about having another hunter facing me close enough that it could be dangerous. The calls sounded pretty good, but not great. I remember thinking that the caller either needed some practice or if it was a real hen, she needed to give her voice a break because it sounded so rough. It was clear that the "hen" was coming towards me & I started looking for human-shaped movement across the opening from me. I yelped a few times and the rough-sounding hen answered, then a gobbler answered her from about 100 yards to the south through a pine thicket. Now there was a problem. If it was another hunter, that bird was closer to him and he might shoot any direction. If it was a live hen calling, she might tow the gobbler off, even though she had been coming toward my calls.
It was unusually quiet for what seemed to be too long. I didn't want to chance moving for the call at the risk of getting busted, I half expected to hear a shot at any second, and I couldn't figure where those turkeys might have gone as they were sounding close enough for me to see them. I went for the box and yelped twice. the hen (behind me now) answered with her own yelps. I knew that hen wasn't another hunter as I'd have seen them. The gobbler fired up from closer to me than he had been from across the opening. The live hen was probably a boss hen looking to fight with the hen she'd heard and the gobbler was interested is getting busy with either of the hens he'd been hearing.
At the edge of the thicket, I saw his blue head first and the top of his fan spring up as he spit & drummed about 60 yards away. No answer from the real hen, though I was expecting here to sound off any second from close behind me. The gobbler passed behind some small cedars and blew back up into strut. He then walked toward me directly behind an 8 inch pine where I could only see parts of him out either side of the tree. At 25 yards, he broke into the opening and went into strut again. I could see by his beard that he was not a jake and was worthy of one of my tags. I held steady, the Stevens roared, and the gobbler tumbled.
I didn't weigh that bird, though his beard was thick and over 10 inches long. His spurs were sharp and right at an inch in length. I knew it was not the same bird that had been roosted right there, but probably was one that was trolling for any leftovers the big man had failed to collect. Even though it was a pretty heavy bird, I barely felt his weight as I hiked back toward the truck. The whole hunt had taken less than 20 minutes, or about 1/5th of the time I had been sitting there waiting for daylight. It was so worth it. I felt the weight come off my shoulders and the seasons of frustration end at the same time.
Luck Counts, good or bad