[mathew]

Well, I don't know how I got to be so lucky this morning, but after running the same group of birds ragged the last couple of times out, I figured I had to get a break soon. This morning was it.

I set up in the travel way of a flock that I had been hunting, hoping to intercept them right off the roost. They had been all but uncallable thus far. Oh, they'd answer everything I threw at them, but wouldn't budge my way.

I got into my spot at 5:10, right about when the birds had been sounding off (which is about 30 minutes earlier than anywhere else). No gobbles greeted me, but I did begin to make out the forms of turkeys in the trees about 60 yards out. I waited patiently for a bird to sound off, waiting for them to make the first move, and still heard nothing.

Finally, one of the silhouettes in the trees began to tree yelp. I tree yelped back, which only enraged the hen into cutting and hard yelping. Still, no gobbles.

At 6:05, the five birds in front of me pitched out with a cacophony of yelps, cuts and fly-downs. Still no gobbles.

About two minutes later, as the hens were milling around me, I could have sworn I heard a gobble way to my south. I strained to hear another and soon heard the bird gobble again.

Here I was again, in the catbird seat. The gobblers were at least 500 yards from their hens. I launched from my hide and took off towards the ever-increasing gobbling. The hens must have been spooked out of their feathers, but I could care less. The further they were from me, the better.

AS I headed towards the gobblers, I closed the gap to what I thought was about 150 yards. As gobbled affirmed that thought and I sat down on the nearest hardwood big enough to conceal my bulk.

I whipped out my now-standby call, my Thunder gut Myrtle Burl Slate, and hit the gobblers with a greeting. They pounded back at me immediately, so I cranked it up another notch. They responded in kind. I had them.

I put the call on my lap and brought my head down on the comfortable stock of my 870. The birds continued to try to coax me towards them.

Movement right in front of me drew my attention as a doe emerged between the birds and myself. I crossed my fingers, hoping the wind wouldn't swirl. So far so good.

The doe milling around quieted the birds a bit, so I picked up the slate for one more salvo of sweet hen music. That did it.

Within the next minute, I saw the two birds approaching from about 40 yards out. The rear bird was strutting. The front one was feeding along.

At 25 yards, the birds get behind a massive tree and allowed me to shift the barrel of the 12 gauges to where it needed to be.

The rear bird tore loose with a gobble and drummed up a storm as the front bird continued to mill about. I figured I would shoot the dominant tom.

Finally, both birds came out from behind the big cherry tree. The back bird thundered one last gobble before meeting his demise.

What a hunt. I have truly been blessed this spring with 4 of the best hunts of my life. Now I just have to convince the wife that there are some birds in NY that I need to talk to
Thanks
Mathew