The trailing gobbler had wheeled and started to sprint away, but he was still within easy range. Calming myself, I held the bright fiber-optic sights far lower on the bird -- about at its beard -- and squeezed off my final shot.
The bird crumpled like it had been struck by lightning, and the hunt was saved.
The moral of the story, of course, is to know your firearm. I hadn't had enough range time with the borrowed gun to fully appreciate how high it shot. After lucking out with the three-shot turkey, however, I spent some more hours at the patterning board and learned where to aim.
And late that afternoon, I came face to face with another big Nebraska gobbler. This time, I aimed the first shot right at his beard, and that ol' jellyhead didn't seem to care that I was using a borrowed gun.