An old tom leaves turkey hunters empty-handed again: Outdoors column

Spring gobbler hunters often come out of the woods empty-handed.

No tag filled.

No turkey today.

But hey, no shame in that, we say.

Turkey hunting in the springtime is a very challenging sport.

And we are serious too.

Right?

The hunt that day had a history.

We were revisiting an old gobbler on a steep side ridge.

Round 2.

'Course we couldn't say for sure it was the same bird that we'd fooled with and had beaten us so badly the previous year.

His gobble was dominant.

He was the boss.

We sensed his swagger.

Two things were evident: only a special call or tactic would bring him in, and secondly, our shotgun shells were becoming shiny from being jacked into the gun and then ejected every morning unspent.

There was kind of a convoluted history here.

The hunt for this bird was becoming a marathon.

The previous year we were lucky.

Well, kind of lucky.

We had just come up from a steep ravine and kicked out a lone hen turkey on her way to a mid-morning rendezvous with her tom.

She flapped a couple times, exiting low through the timber on the wooded bench, then soared off, left to parts unknown.

But we replaced her.

Lucky.

Perfect setup!

A couple yelps a couple minutes later brought an immediate gobble up, from down below.

He was close, and getting closer to this suddenly responsive hen.

Instantly, we each set up with our backs against big maples, head-nets up, and guns on our knees, pointed in his direction.

Just a matter of time.

A scratch on the old wooden box call brought out a loud and demanding gobble.

He’s even closer.

We both nodded our camouflage-covered heads with one mind, "He's coming in ... fast."

In the next instant the big tom was standing there, looking jet black with a whitish-blue head, big paint-brush beard hanging down.

Seconds ticked by.

My partner didn't shoot.

I had filled one tag, one-in-the-freezer so to speak, and I wasn’t going to shoot one out in from of him, even though the bird was a bit closer to my position.

And likewise, he was waiting for me to shoot.

But the old tom was smarter than both of us and didn't wait to size up the situation.

And with one snappy "putt," his alarm call, he evaporated into the morning fog in the blink of an eye.

"Why didn't you shoot?"

"Well, why didn't you shoot?" my hunting buddy echoed.

"Well, I was waiting for you," laughing, I rolled on the dew-soaked beech and maple leaves, saying, "I can't believe it!"

"Well, I was waiting for you!"

"He was big!"

"Darn right!"

And we laughed about it, talked it over again and again for a year and vowed the next season we would have to hook up and one of us shoot that bird and put a period at the end of that sentence.

But the tom had other ideas this time … lots of them.

And those ideas were his girlfriends, his harem.

Little did anyone, my buddy, the old tom, or even his gals know, the secret weapon was in my turkey vest.

The gobbler call.

(Usually we use hen calls to entice the toms, but sometimes a gobbler call will make the old bird jealous.)

A gobble is a weird noise and means different things.

To another gobbler, it’s a challenge … maybe even to fight.

But to a hen turkey, it’s a love call.

When hunters use a gobbler call we must use it carefully, because it can call in other hunters.

But on that day we were sure as can be that nobody else was hunting that stretch of woods that morning.

So I worked back and forth on the bench of the hillside, along a deer trail, like a tom does when it runs back and forth on a strut path, gobbling to bring in the hens.

My partner got such a kick out of my antics of acting like a tom with hens, he had a hard time keeping his laughs muffled.

And we all know from our school days, that when we try to bottle up laughs, they explode out even louder.

Well, just as planned, the tom started coming in, gobbling all the way and flanked by three hens.

Big tail fan up all the way, in full display. At 75 yards, the brown, ringed tail fan appeared to be floating through the Trilliums and Jack-in-the pulpits.

And this time we had vowed, first guy with a shot takes it!

I had to give the gobble call one more shake.

"Gobbble-obble-obble ... erchhhh!"

"What?"

The end of the gobble call flew off and landed in the leaves with a squawk.

"Oh no! End of story," I thought.

My buddy, meanwhile, was curled up by a beech tree, shaking with laughter.

When the call flew apart, and I had to crawl after it and put it back together, the comedic scene was too much for my hunting buddy to contain.

He was sideways in the leaves shaking with laughter, gun by his side.

But the turkeys have no sense of humor and couldn't stand any longer all the weird noises from two camouflaged blobs.

The three hens did come up, quickly giving us the once-over … probably more out of curiosity than anything else.

Round 2 was in the book.

He won again.

More: Sportsmanship, safety and gobbler hunting: Follow these guidelines to avoid accidents

I pulled my head-net off, sprawling on the leaves, laughing and worn out from the drama, "That was close."

"Too much, too much! Worth the price of admission," my hunting buddy was still holding his sides.

Yes, the old tom eluded us one more time.

And you would have to say, if you were keeping score in this serious business of turkey hunting, yes, we came out of the woods empty-handed one more time.

-- Oak Duke writes a weekly column.

This article originally appeared on The Evening Tribune: Oak Duke column: Turkey hunting in spring can be a challenge