Pennsylvania Game News - May 2011 - 18

and found nothing but corn stubble. Bingo! This must be the field my uncle had seen the birds in. I knew the field was long, but with no light to see, I just started walking. My plan was to find a high point where I could put out my decoys so a bird could see them from anywhere in the field. Just as I was settling into the hedgerow, I heard a gobble. The bird was about a quarter of the way down the field, in the big woods below, in the first field, just as my uncle suspected. The bird gobbled again. I let out a quiet hen tree yelp, and he answered. I then hit him with a fly-down cackle, and he hammered back, so I went quiet until I could see to shoot. The whole time, while I waited for the sun to rise, he kept gobbling. He was beginning to sound like a broken record. The amount of gobbles the bird sounded out was good and bad. It was great because I knew right where he was as he moved through the woods. However, I was worried that his vocal tribute to his girlfriends would draw other hunters to the area. As the sun rose, all I could see was the hedgerow on the other side. I clucked a few times on my slate call, and the bird cut me off with a double gobble. My adrenaline level skyrocketed. I knew he was committed. I clucked one time and he answered immediately. I set the call down and shouldered my shotgun. He continued to make his way through the woods, heading in my direction. Just as he got directly below me, about a hundred yards away, I heard a hen yelp. The wind was taken out of my sails. Now I had to deal with a hen as well. I picked up my box call and started yelping at the hen. Both the
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hen and tom answered, and the game was back on. I re-shouldered my gun, and my eyes scanned the hedgerow for any movement. The tom sounded off just on the other side of the hedgerow. He was so close I could feel his gobble in my chest. That bird stood there and gobbled his head off for five minutes. I purred and putted on my diaphragm to draw him through the “jungle,” but it just wasn’t working. I went silent. I assumed the hedgerow was too dense for him to walk through. I knew if he could find a way to peek through and see the decoys, the deal would be sealed. However, he just wouldn’t cross that line. The bird then wandered off to the far side of the field to continue his normal daily routine, as my disappointment set in. I got up, picked up the decoys, and headed toward the truck to go to work. As I reached the access road, I realized I had been in the wrong field. I had mistakenly hunted the third field. After closer examination of the winter wheat in the daylight, I found small traces of corn stubble. I would have seen this earlier if I had remembered my headlamp. I couldn’t believe it. The hunt was textbook. The bird roosted where we assumed, he answered every one of my calls, and he came into the second field, just as my uncle said he would. The only thing that stood in my way of harvesting this bird was a hedgerow . . . and perhaps my headlamp back at home. I sent my uncle a quick email to tell him about the foiled hunt. I went back the following morning and set up the decoys, in the correct field, and waited. I waited for more than an hour and didn’t hear a single bird. So I picked up my gear and took a short hike to try and find a bird. But, with no sounds heard, I headed to work. On my way back to the truck, I noticed fresh vehicle tracks on the access road at the end of the Strips. As suspected, I later confirmed that my uncle had stopped by
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Pennsylvania Game News - May 2011

Table of Contents for the Digital Edition of Pennsylvania Game News - May 2011