In "Decision Time," Editor Brian Lovett will share a scenario from his 20-plus years hunting turkeys. Each hinges on a critical decision. Post what choice you would have made, and then see how things actually turned out
. Condemned to Hill
So there I was, locked in a thrilling battle with a hard-gobbling longbeard on the final day of Wisconsin's spring turkey season.
I'd yelped the gobbler and two hens to within 65 yards only to watch them fade back across a wheat field and into an open hardwood ridge. No problem. After a nifty end-around, I was within 100 yards of the little breeding flock, certain they'd work south along the ridge toward me.
When they didn't, I slipped 25 yards closer and called again. Bingo. However, they still weren't moving. I waited five more minutes and then slipped 20 yards closer. That setup netted another gobble and still no movement. Then I saw why.
The birds were down in a glacial kettle, which is a pothole-like landform created when blocks of ice broke away from the front of a receding glacier. With the terrain on my side, I figured I could easily crawl 10 more yards, get on my knees and then rise up and shoot the gobbler before he could booger. Just then, however, one of the hens yelped, and I heard her scratching while walking to the left -- a path that would take her and the gobbler out of the kettle and into the open 30 steps from my muzzle.
I really wanted to end the season on a high note by killing the gobbler, and slipping up the hill for an ambush seemed like the surest way to at least get a chance. However, the oft-ignored patience angel on my left shoulder reminded me that the birds might pop out anyway.
Oh, and I had one more thought: "Decide now, because they ain't gonna stay there forever." What would you have done? Post your decision below.
Click here for Lovett's decision.
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