Friday morning after I blew the shot on a Jake , I came back up on top of Gobbler's Knob. There were some cedar limbs that had blown down and I made a makeshift blind with them next to a rock pile. Silent Bob and another gobbler started honoring my calls around 0900. They were on opposite sides of the ridge, and slowly making their way towards me. I figured it would be at least an hour before I saw them, so I hunkered down and had a rest while I watched the sun come up over the next ridge. Suddenly, I awoke to a noise, and I swiveled my eyes up. There was a hen up on top of the rock pile staring down at me from less than 3 feet away. I was caught completely off guard. I had no call, I couldn't move. She clucked at me rather plaintively.
At a loss for anything else to do, I marshaled my best Jack Nicholson imitation and in a normal speaking tone replied "Well, Cluck!" I guess she was disarmed be the sarcasm, because she bought it. She and a nearby girlfriend went back to feeding. I would seem them occasionally over the next 20 minutes, clucking and purring in the high grass. Finally, the hens came around to the front of my blind and found my big fat size-14 hunting boots. They freaked out and got airborne within inches of my feet. Whump! Whump! Whump! Whump! I got the backwash in my face. It was like a pair of pregnant 747's trying to get into the air. One let go with a turd that landed a few inches away from my toes.
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