THE SHOW

In the animal kingdom it's all about the display....if you want to get laid. And unlike homo sapiens (disregarding many glittery queens), most critters leave it to the males to put on the lip gloss. Of the animals I hunt, none do it like the tom turkey. This is what us turkey hunters live for. Sure there's plenty of times you'll  hit the woods and spend the entire morning working a bird, only hearing gobbles and never see the bird. Then there's other times you'll have one come in silent and be in your lap before you can even get the gun up. But the classic scenario is to call one across a field, soaking in every moment of this courtship dance.
    It's the middle of the season and almost every day it has rained. Sometimes this doesn't matter, but most times it does. Birds just don't like to sound off in the rain. The only thing worse than rain is wind. Once the wind kicks up the birds can't hear your calls and you can't hear their gobbles. It's incredibly frustrating. So it was last week that i found myself set up in a hedge row, high up on the edge of some hay fields in White Sulfur Springs. The skies had cleared but a brisk 20 mph wind had kicked up. It was late in the morning and I'd just about given up. The 4:00 am wake ups were taking their toll, so I leaned back against a big tree and dozed off. I don't know how long I was asleep, but all of a sudden a faint gobble woke me up. I opened my eyes only to see a monster of a bird standing about 200 yards directly in front of me out in the field. He gobbled again and went into strut. This is the classic Thanksgiving fan and feathery beach ball mode. His head turned from white to blue to red....then white again. I slowly raised the gun to my knee and stroked the call lightly. He roared back and started his march across the field. I couldn't believe my luck. He was all alone, floating in the grass and closing the distance fast.

    I shoot a Browning 12 ga. pump shotgun with tiny rifle sights. I've shot a lot of birds with this gun. My eyes are pretty good at a distance, but across the gun barrel it's all blur. Nonetheless i had plenty of time to settle in and wait for that big bright head to get within range. When he dropped strut he'd stretch his neck out and gobble, shaking his head from side to side, searching for the hen (me). The ground vibrated with every step. His beard was at least a foot long, dragging in the tall grass. I breathed deeply, trying to steady my racing heartbeat. I had him. When he was within 30 yards I pulled the trigger......he shook his head, spread his wings and rocketed straight up. I was so shocked that I hadn't dropped him I wasted at least a split second pumping another round into the gun. I shot again....and again...never touching him. The last time I saw him he was heading for Orange County.
   It's been a while since I've missed such an easy shot. I have no idea where I went wrong. But there you have it. My stomach was knotted and I felt like bawling like a little girl. There's no explaining it. That bird was just not meant to die. Failure is a constant companion of the hunter. It's what drives you. Any time I get complacent and think I got it all figured out something like this happens, reminding me just why I get up an hour before dawn for the 31 days of May. I'll remember that show for the rest of my life. THAT'S what it's all about.