Benelli Super Black Eagle II Shotgun

After coffee with my wife I headed out. It was an odd time of morning - after their morning mating rituals, and probably before their late morning feeding. There was nothing on the main face (of the ridge I have been hunting), that I could see, so I parked and got ready to make the half mile and 500 or so feet climb. Heretofore I had been using 2-3/4 in. shells, but my Benelli will take 3-1/2. I loaded three Bismuth magnum BB loads in the magazine, and inserted the wonderfully loooooong 3-1/2 in. Winchester Supreme Turkey load with 2 ounces of copper plated # 5 into the chamber.

I hunted my way up, checking out various spots - the angle of sun providing vantages I had not much noticed before.

On the back side of the top I stopped and `camo-d' up (painted face and finger tips). There was nothing out in the open on top, which was not surprising, since I had not seen anything from below. But in the time it takes to get up there - sometimes ...

I hunted to the west end, and still nothing. Good sign indicated the birds at least pass through. I had one last place to peek into at the west end when I heard a gobble.

One of the landowners was a working tractor with fertilizer out in one of his fields, so there was an enormous amount of clatter. And, in fact, it may have been in response to the clatter that a Tom had gobbled. I would use the clatter to descend into the timber and get down low enough to come into the bird(s) from the east.

About half way down, and just entering heavier brush, the clatter had moved on, and I was stuck. The birds would only be a hundred yards or so west, and noise would not be good, so I decided to back out a bit and go another draw to the east, and then come around.

Going was pretty well and I was hoping the `machinery' would return to mask my approach. By the time I got ready to come up on the last draw, the clatter was closer, but not premium. (So,) I made my approach.

Shit!, the birds were high. I overshot my stalk. Two fabulous Toms out away from the timber in the winter wheat, cautiously making their way toward cover. Hoping they hadn't seen me, I needed to back out. They would enter the timber much higher, and I needed to get up there.

I got backed out and cautiously tried to maintain knowledge of their whereabouts visually. But this is risky because to see a bird means he/she can potentially see me. There were two younger Toms along with the two bigger ones. They made the edge of the cover; I had to move quickly.

As a sort of self-inflicted torture I sometimes wear shorts on these forays. Vainly I think I might gain some tan on my rather white legs, but it also helps me slow down. I was now up against thicker brush, including blackberry. I needed to close the distance, and quietly. Ughhhh. My legs would look like crap afterward.

I was getting close to a horizon close to where I had seen the birds last. They had not crossed in front of me across a shallow swale, as I had hoped, allowing a crossing shot, meaning either they had already crossed (hunt thus being over), or they had stopped and were still above me. I went slowly, oh so slowly. I glimpsed some movement - a tweedy bird? I dismissed it. I saw more movement - a flash of tan - a squirrel? I dismissed it as a squirrel. But I knew I was too close to turkey to dismiss too casually, so I looked closer. A bird! (turkey). A hen? No, a young Tom. I watched. This was not one of the older Toms, but a wary one nonetheless. I wanted one of the two big birds. Would one show up? Maybe. But not likely - the birds were `hung up' on the top of a nice little knob. Lots of vantage (for them), and the present Tom very much in the way of getting closer to see anything else. I crept a tiny bit further. Finally I had to make a decision (and I didn't have all morning to make it): I was in the shadows, but I would not be unnoticed forever. Realistically it is this bird or no bird. I crept forward.

(This next part happens very fast.) He made me - I raised up as he dashed for nearby cover. I got off my shot as he disappeared into the brush. The three other Toms took to flight from their invisible locations not far away.

I made my way to the top - pretty assured my bird was down, hit hard. Yes, sweet.

... first tigger pull with my new Benelli Super Black Eagle II.

Notes

I just read an article about how in Spring the birds are closer than they sound, the softer surroundings muffling their gobbles. Indeed these Toms were all the time not far from where I was standing when I first heard them. And on an earlier hunt, similarly, a gobbling Tom ended up being much closer than I thought.

Wild turkey (especially the Toms) are amazingly wary birds. At the first sight of danger they don't mess around - they leave, and as quickly and stealthly as possible. They don't consult their buddies - they leave - and if their buddies want to follow - that's up to them. To stalk these creatures forces me to improve on my stalking (and shooting) skills.

Yes, my legs looked like crap afterward. What good is a tan with shallow lacerations criss-crossing this way and that?

Interestingly, the bird had vast amounts of skin where the feathers were gone (making plucking easier, even thought I didn't).

And what's with the white legs (for concealment)? Hmmmm ... I have assumed that due to the vegetation and the crowning terrain that my white lower legs are not importantly visible. But I think I need to think further on this.

Thinking further - maybe it was those white (and by then somewhat lacerated) legs - that that Tom `saw'.