After our just-miss morning hunt, Paul Smutz and I kept at it in hopes of
tagging a Michigan gobbler. Trouble was, the gobblers were done gobbling.
“Keep at it,” I told myself. “You’ll have a hunt yet.”
Still, after several hours of silence — except for the abundant mosquito
crop — I wasn’t convinced.
Maybe that’s why I was surprised when a bird cut off my calling as we eased
along a pine plantation. After gobble No. 2, however, I snapped back to
reality and grabbed a tree. The turkey was 100 yards away and seemed pretty
Within seconds, a hen appeared in front of us, followed by two strutters. I
yelped, and all the birds responded. In fact, the hen made a bee line for
our decoys, dragging the gobblers behind her.
When the longbeards finally stopped and separated at 25 steps, I centered
the bright dot of my Trijicon Reflex sight on the wattles of the right-hand bird and finished the deal. It was 5 p.m.
It had been a great afternoon hunt. In fact, if we’d had a crystal ball, we
might not even have ventured out until 3 p.m. Or so.