A Tale Of Two Turkeys

By Scott Ellis

Turkey Tale Number one:

It was Thursday evening, April 3, 2006 at the Ellis’ household. My nine year old son Zachary and myself were headed turkey hunting the next morning. We were hunting with my protégé and good friend Aaron “Boomer” Walters. Boomer is a former Florida State Junior Calling Champion and a very accomplished turkey hunter. My wife Kim, Zachary and myself were hanging out on the back porch getting ready to fire up the grill when my phone rang. It was Boomer and he had been out trying to roost a bird that evening. I could tell by the excitement in his voice it was something good. Sure enough, he had put one to bed with his owl hooter that had gobbled some 100 times on the roost . I told Boomer “well at least if we don’t bag him we should have some fun in the morning“. We talked about the lay of the land and a little about a game plan for a set up the next morning.

It was a typical Florida spring morning. Balmy, humid and warm, but the weather was clear for that day, at least there was no rain in the forecast. We met up with Boomer, his father and brother at camp. The excitement level was high. It’s a great feeling knowing you at least have a bird in the area and that we should have an opportunity with him. Zachary could hardly wait. So after a couple of snack cakes and some water to wash it down, it was time to let the game begin.

We parked the truck about 15 minutes from where Boomer had the bird roosted. He and I began discussing where we would stop to listen and try to locate him with some barred owl hooting. As the sun began to rise and we had arrived at our listening point, I let go with an eight note barred owl hoot. To our excitement he hammered! The old tom was exactly where Boomer had him pegged the night before. I checked him early enough to still have some darkness to cover our movement as we moved in to our set up.

We were set up on the edge of a small pasture in the wood line. The tom was roosted across the pasture in the other wood line. It was about 300 yards across the field to the bird. I generally like to get a little closer to a gobbler on the roost but I felt this set up was going to work. There was some light fog that morning so I figured that might keep him on the roost a little longer. I was just going give him some light tree yelps and see what transpired. Just enough to let him know there was a lonely hen waiting. So with my Quaker Boy Eradicator Glass call I let go some sleepy tree yelps and soft clucks. He immediately answered and I said to myself “Ah that’s a good sign.” So, as it began to near fly down time I tree called to him again. Another immediate answer. Mind you this old boy was tearing the woods down. He was gobbling at cows, crows, owls and every other sound in the woods. He was hot and Zachary was having a ball listening to that old boy.

As hard light was among us, it was still a bit foggy and our bird was still in the tree just like I had predicted. Keep in mind, I had only called twice to this bird. After some deliberation I then decided to make the next move. With my turkey wing and my Quaker Boy World Champ mouth call, I gave about a seven note fly down cackle. He double gobbled! It may have been a triple gobble. Let’s just say he gobbled the duration of my cackle. Your move Mr. Tom. So after about five minutes of silence I heard those familiar slow heavy wing beats. I was almost certain it was him.

Next move, I started a series of cutting with an excited yelp at the end of the series. He was in love! He gobbled but had flown down away from us and ended up about 500 yards from our set up. I said, “ Dang, we should have set up closer to him.” At this point he was still gobbling good and on his own. I had played Ms. Shy and Coy and he wasn’t closing the distance so I do what I do. I started getting nasty with him. Cutting and yelping with tons of sweet and sassy. Well, let’s just say that got his attention and the gobbles started getting closer. It appeared he was heading down the wood line, but just inside it. I couldn’t spot him in the pasture. There was still some fog lingering about, so our vision was hindered.

I had waited about 5 minutes and decided to check him. He hammered and was about even with us across the pasture. It was about a minute later Boomer and I spotted him easing across the pasture in and out of strut. I whispered to Zachary, “Alright boy, get your gun up, here we go!!”

At that point I decided to seal the deal, so I gave him some purring and clucking on my World Champ. It was a done deal. After hearing all that nasty, dirty talk and then flirting with him, with that soft talk, he was bent on meeting this little honey. He floated across the pasture as if he was in a trance and was “steady comin’ to the sweet lovin’ “.

I was just sitting back against that old live oak taking it all in. The beautiful morning, the sight of a big gobbler walking straight in to my calling and my son there waiting to squeeze the trigger on his first turkey. It was good for my soul.

This love quarrel was about to come to an end as the tom arrived about thirty yards in front of us. He started easing to the left but, with Boomer to Zachary’s left he could only swing the gun so far, so I whispered ” take him “. My wife’s Beretta 20 gauge barked and the bird slammed to the ground like he had been hit by a semi truck. He never flopped. Not once.

As we got over to my son’s trophy we noticed his beard was shorter than it should have been. Only about six inches, it appeared to have beard rot. When we took a look a those spurs we high fived, HOOKS! They ended up being 1½ ”and he weighed 20 lbs. He was a limb hanger as you can see by the photo. It was one of my happiest and proudest moments ever. There’s only one first turkey for anyone and sharing that moment will always be special.

Turkey Tale Number two:

March 25, 2006 my wife Kim and I got a call from a buddy of mine. He had stated that he had two unused quotas for the Richloam Baird Unit. Guess what? Game on. I had never hunted this place before but had heard good things about it. I told Chris he was definitely going to be needed to put us in a good spot at daybreak.

Kim had been expressing quite an interest in taking a gobbler. She loves the woods and loves to hunt but had never been out chasing an old gobbler. She was anxious to see what all the fuss was about with this turkey hunting stuff. Boy was she in for a treat! The story you about to read is true. No one was injured in the making of this memory. Just keep in mind my wife was six months pregnant with our son.

It’s 5:30 a.m. Kim and myself are suited up in our turkey gear and about to head into the woods. We get to an area where a friend of mine had heard birds opening weekend. It was starting to break daylight when I decided to give a barred owl hoot to try and jerk a gobble out of an early riser. No such luck. Not a sound. We waited for about 10 minutes and I cranked up my voice a notch or two and let loose a series of laughs ending with a long one note hoot. Paydirt!!! Not one but two birds sounded off . They were roosted about 100 yards apart.

Time for the set up. I checked them again and we slipped into the pine block they were roosted in. After much deliberation we settled in about 100 to 125 yards of them and had a pretty good set up. As I was just sitting there taking it all in and getting ready to make my first tree calls to them, I heard that horrid sound. The sound that we as turkey hunters hate to hear when we have a gobbler sounding off in the tree. No, not wing beats as when you bump him off the roost. I’m talking about multiple hens starting to wake up between you and your gobbler.

All I could do is attempt to sound like a whole flock of lonely sexy hens. Try and convince those gobblers that the hens in the bush were sexier than the ones that were flying down to them while they were still in the tree. It was a total bummer. The hens went to the gobblers.

The gobblers finally flew down and they gobbled a good bit on the ground. So I started calling with multiple calls trying to get their attention. I had a Quaker Boy Cyclone push pin box in one hand, A QB Pro Push pin in the other hand and was cutting furiously with my World Champ Mouth Call. I hoped that if I didn’t entice the gobblers to leave the hens, I could challenge the boss hen and maybe she would bring the two birds with her in tow. Unfortunately they eased off gobbling and eventually shut down completely. We stayed at our set up a little while and then opted to move off.

We hit another area, a burned field with pines on three sides. We slipped down one edge and stopped about half way down the length of the field. I cut and yelped on my trusty Quaker Boy Super Snuff Can call. Gobble! He was across the field and sounded like on the other wood line, about 350 yards away. Now we could have trekked all the way around the field on the wood line to try and cut the distance so we wouldn’t bump him, but keep in mind my wife was pregnant! We set up obviously too far from this ole boy, but I gave him a shot anyway. I worked him for about 15 minutes only to have him go silent and never hear from him again. Moving on. We tried one more area completed a quick run and gun but didn’t strike anything.

By now it was mid morning. I told Kim we were just gonna head back to where we left those gobblers at first light and maybe one or both of the birds would be back looking for those hens they left behind. Here’s where the fun begins. It was around 10:30 a.m. Kim and I set up and I began calling. Just some periodic yelping and cutting. I’d even throw in a kee-kee run to add some realism to my calling.

I was running everything in my vest. A different call every 15 minutes or so. A Quaker Boy Glass Eradicator, Mini Boat paddle box,Super Snuff Can, and multiple mouth calls. Nothing. Not a sound. Just the warm breeze whistling through the pines. We had been there about an hour. I told Kim I was gonna give one more series of calls and if we didn’t hear anything we would pack up and try one last area. We were just going to find an area that looked turkey, get in the woods and hunt. Not knowing anything about the Baird Unit we would really be scout/hunting as I like to call it.

At any rate I gave one last pleading yelp with a couple of clucks and a bird sounded off about 400 hundred yards from us. Time check, 11:30 am. I told Kim to turn in the direction of the gobble. I then checked him and verified his location. He gobbled again but a little closer. After about fifteen minutes I could tell the bird was what I call yo-yoing. He would come closer and then he would drift away. At that point I knew there had to be something hindering his advance. Through the pines I could see what appeared to be a swamp bottom. Our boy was on the other side, which explains the drifting and advancing.

Kim and I picked up and started easing to the point where the pines and the swamp met. I again checked the old boy with my trusty Quaker Boy Crankin’ Crow call. He hammered and sure enough was on the other side of the swamp. I told Kim he wasn’t going through that swamp to get to us, so we opted to navigate the marshy terrain. Luckily it wasn’t nearly as bad as we had thought. It was passable and we picked our way through, dodging some standing water.

Now that we were on the same side of the woods as this rascal was on, or so I thought, it should have been virtually simple to call him to us. Here is where the plot thickens. We reached the pines on the other side of the swamp and then set up. When I gave my first series of yelps, he gobbled and you’ll never guess where he was. Our turkey wasn’t on the other side of the swamp, he was in the swamp. Judging by the sound of the gobbles and how long it took us to cross it, I believe he was in the swamp the whole time. He was never on the other side. Talk about an old swamp gobbler!!!

Time check, 12:15 pm. Forty-five minutes of hunt time left. I can definitely say I’d never been faced with how to call a bird through an obstacle when he was in the obstacle. But, I came up with a plan real quick. I would back straight away from Kim calling and since he was already in the swamp I figured he would at least get close enough for a shot.

So I started easing straight away from Kim, still in the swamp, purring and clucking and soft yelping. He started gobbling and was following me, putting Kim in between us. After walking about 75 yards the gobbles sounded like they were right on top of her. I kept waiting to hear the blast of her gun. To my dismay not a sound. I had quit calling and he hadn’t gobbled on his own for a few minutes, so I decided to check him again. Your not going to believe it. The gobbler had gone through the swamp and was in the pines where we had originally entered the swamp! Mind you the gobble was so close I opted to just freeze for a moment. Good thing. I heard him spitting and drumming. He walked right by me standing in the swamp. In case your wondering I wasn’t carrying a gun.

Time check: 12:35. At this point I was in absolute disbelief. But, I had to think fast. I let the bird walk on by me. As soon as he was out of sight. I slipped back up to Kim. I asked “what happened?” She stated he was right in front of her but couldn’t get a shot. He never presented himself. She just caught a bit of movement nothing more.

The gobbler was now in the pines where we had originally called to him from. I told Kim “let’s slip back to the edge of the swamp, set up on a pine and see if I can bring him back to us”. We did just that. I yelped one time. He gobbled. I purred and clucked two or three times and before you know it he was right in front of us.

Now, another strange twist to the story. The tom is now in range about 35 yards in front of us, but due to the lay of the land Kim could not see him clearly. It was like when they planted these pines years ago it was furrowed and in between the furrows was the ol’ boy playing peek a boo. Kim could only see the top of his fan and his head for brief moments.

Since I am taller than her I had no problems seeing him, but she was having issues getting a good sight picture. I said “shoot him”. Kim said “I can’t see him”. I said “How?” She said, “I don’t know”.

Finally she took what she thought was going to be her only shot. BOOM! Mr. swamp gobbler just jogged about six steps to the left. I stood up and Kim handed me the gun, safety on of course, and I said to myself your going home with us one way or another.

I put the bead on his head and squeezed the trigger. To my dismay the one time my Remington 1100 decided to not cycle another shell, was at that moment. By this time, the gobbler had already started his retreat and was gone before I could chamber another shell.

What a hunt! We will talk about that ol’ boy for the rest of our lives. I truly believe that it was just not his time. Who knows maybe he’ll be there this season. We’ve been drawn for the same hunt, the second weekend. Hopefully my wife can get some redemption this season.