After having listened to the howling wind and torrential rain all night long my expectations were poor for the morning turkey hunt. When the alarm thundered next to my ear I was devastated to discover that the temperature had dropped twenty-five degrees overnight and the wind had not stopped blowing. The only optimistic part of the morning is that the rain had subsided. At thirty-five degrees I figured gobbling activity would be almost non-existent. Never the less the show must go on!

            My hunt was taking place on a four hundred acre lease my uncle had in Knox County in northern Missouri. He invited me there in hopes that we would both harvest gobblers along with his two sons

            My uncle and I would hunt one end of the property and his sons on the other end. The sky was turning from black to blue faster than we had anticipated so we had to hike pretty fast across a large agricultural field to a small line of trees on the other side about ten yards wide with another small field on the other side of the trees. We decided a couple hoots from here might signal the roosting site of a big tom. Despite the cold weather several majestic birds responded in the trees only fifty or so yards in front of us. My heart jumped up in my throat and I was amazed that we had made it that close without being busted. Immediately I hit the ground when the birds gobbled again from their roost. With the wind blowing twenty miles an hour my uncle was able to belly crawl to set up the decoys in the field on a small rise. I had already stuffed myself under a cedar tree when one of the birds flew to a tree right beside us. My uncle was caught belly down in the middle of the wet field. It was hard not to let the turkeys or my uncle hear me laughing at our situation. The bird began clucking like he was spooked but luckily the wind forced him from his perch before he figured us out!

            Eventually my uncle escaped the field to the tree beside me. At this point the sun was cresting the tree line and the sound of wing beats filled the air even over the wind. Just like it was my first turkey hunt I was in awe as two big gobblers and ten to fifteen hens pitched into the field one hundred yards to our right. One bearded hen, which I had never seen before, also joined the party. The long beards headed into the timber shortly after their descent and stayed there. The hens fed around on the hillside as my uncle gave a few yelps with his mouth call. There was gobbling all around us but it seemed none were interested in our love notes. After what seemed like an eternity I caught movement to my left. When I slowly turned my head the most beautiful tail fan appeared in the sunshine. The tom strutted in circles while the hens fed around him almost seeming to protect their king. My Mossberg would have no problem taking the tom down at forty yards but I never want to shoot a turkey in full strut with his head sucked back in his feathers. He came closer and closer but still in strut and the hens still in the way. Midway through a figure eight the long beard noticed the jake decoy. Immediately he went nuts straight for the foam juvenile stopping a few yards short to dance in circled once again. My uncle used fast yelps and cuts to try to get the turkey to stretch his neck and look, to no avail. The hens finally moved away and at forty yards I decided to shoot the tom in strut or not at all. I never heard the blast from the gun as the tom flopped around one last time. I had meat on the table and another great memory. Just because the weather wasn’t perfect. You can’t get them if you’re not out there!!