Some friends of ours have a foreign exchange student here from Germany. I called up a bird for him this morning, and the thing is an absolute STUD.
2 days ago we roosted him by standing in my buddy's driveway and owl calling. He was about 300 yards across a hayfield in a small woods. Yesterday morning we started out plenty early, set up in a hedgerow about 150 yards from him,and put dekes in the hayfield in front of us where he should have been able to see them from his tree. He never gobbled once, but several others gobbled from farther off in the woods. I had a good cussin' match with a hen, but they all finally wandered off the other direction, throwing courtesy gobbles over their shoulder as the devil hen headed them off for parts unknown. Unable to circle on them because Marcel had to be at school, we headed in.
We did have one jake and a hen come to about 130 yards in the field, but they ignored the dekes. Marcel told me later "That tarkey come into the field and my heart start beating ver fast!"
Last night I tried to roost him again, but nobody in that woods gobbled. I was tempted to go to another spot where I had roosted a bird, but Jim convinced me that they were probably still in the same spot as the day before.
This time we got in even earlier, and sneaked about 20 yards into the woods where they were roosted (it's only about a 4 acre woodlot) and set up at a tree we had picked out the day before. At gobble time we had a bird about 100 yards left and another about 100 yards right. Each bird gobbled only a handful of times on the roost, which was still good considering the rain
I had forgotten my diaphragms at the house (I had brought them in to clean them so I don't get my turkey season sore throat), and didn't want to risk the movement with a slate, so I voice called 3 series of tree yelps about 10 minutes apart and got no answers.
About 10 minutes after my last series, the bird to the left gobbled from the ground, slightly closer to us and circling behind us to the field. The next time he gobbled he was straight behind us about 40 yards and in the field. He drummed a few times as he came closer, then gobbled again about 10 yards directly behind us. I purred and clucked a few times with my voice, trying to get him to come around the tree where Marcel could get a shot. He gobbled and continued to drum, but didn't move. Marcel finally saw him, but said he wasn't strutting. He said his head was still white, so I knew he wasn't alarmed yet. I told him to watch the bird and sit still until his head went behind a tree, then move the gun to where he could shoot (the bird had moved to over his left shoulder and he is left-handed). Due to a slight language barrier Marcel didn't understand my hastily-whispered directions , and I saw him move his head.
A few seconds later I heard the bird putt. I spun my head around and saw him doing the nervous-turkey-shuffle, headed straight away from us at about 20 yards. I yelped a few times to slow him down and told Marcel to shoot. He started to ease up slowly. I said, "Just shoot, quick!" He threw the gun up, spun, and put a tough shot on a moving bird through the brush to kill him
This kid had never touched a gun until he came to the U.S. last August, and he performed like a champ!
Both spurs 1 3/8"
Beard 8 1/2" (about half the strands broken from beard rot)
Weight 27lbs 5oz
Easily the heaviest bird I have ever called up and had killed, and WHAT A HUNT!!!!
Marcel will have a fan mount with spurs and a beard hanging under it at his home in Germany, and a great American turkey story to tell all his buddies at home!
