Pennsylvania Game News - May 2013 - 21

azine and prepared to enjoy another
glorious morning in the Wyoming
County woods.
Slowly but surely all the local birds
began their pre-dawn ritual of greeting another day with their melodious
singing. In the distance crows began
to caw and I knew it was time to begin my own serenade of wake-up tree
calls. No turkey talk was heard and I
couldn’t buy a response. Unfortunately, for some strange reason, the lack
of gobbling was typical this season.
Using a raspy old hen diaphragm
call, I let loose with a series of yelps,
trying to get the attention of the
gaggle of gobblers mentioned earlier.
Sure enough, they came to attention
and craned their necks in an attempt
to pinpoint the location of the “imposter” making the calls. “Boy, I wish
they would sound off and gobble,” I
muttered to myself.
Slowly but surely they continued
their journey to the end of the field
and then stood statue-like some 350
yards away. Things were definitely
looking up. I wanted to keep the
long range conversation going, so I
switched to my tried and true slate
call and scratched out a couple of
clucks and feeding purrs. Still no
gobbles, but their deliberate march
toward me continued through a
knee-high field of grass. Bobbing red
heads marked their progress along the
way.
Twenty minutes later the trio
reached the far side of the soon-to -be
planted cornfield I was watching. The
pounding of my heart was now quite
evident as the excitement of the hunt
and the anticipation of a shot grew
with each step. My quarry steadily ate
up 60 more yards of turf and was now
MAY  2013 

about 55 yards away. The stock
of my son’s semi-auto bit into
my shoulder and my cheek glued
itself to its comb. The tang safety
snicked off and I peered through
the red dot scope. I silently urged
the gobblers onward. In the
sight, the beards of all three grew
longer and red heads got brighter
with each passing step. The lead
gobbler then crossed the 40-yard
threshold and was within range.
Forty-eight years of hunting
experience tripped the auto pilot
switch in my brain, as the red dot
scope locked onto the base of the
neck of the nearest turkey. My
index finger squeezed the trigger
and the 17-pound gobbler hit the
ground.
I raced from my hide the 37
steps to claim my second trophy of the season. I then knelt
in silent prayer and thanked
the Almighty and my deceased
father for introducing me to the
hunting tradition so long ago.
I stroked the iridescent bronze
feathers and tugged at the 5-inch
beard of my Memorial Day bird. I
tagged the tom and filled out the
harvest report card. On the walk
out I again reflected on how truly
lucky I was for so many reasons.
I would also like to thank the
Game Commission for extending
the spring gobbler hunting season
until sunset during the last half of
the season, enabling the average
working guy and students an
increased opportunity to hunt. I
would also like to thank the PGC
for allowing turkey hunters to
hunt on Memorial Day, thereby
making this story possible.
21
Pennsylvania Game News - May 2013

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