Haley

I grabbed the DNR post cards out of the mail box quickly to see what turkey season the DNR blessed me with this year. I looked, than looked again, than paused and thought, "oh well, maybe this year will be different".

Several Tom’s had visited our fields over the past three days but they never would commit. The closest distance was maybe just over fifty yards. I was hunting with my 13 year old daughter Haley on her first turkey hunt. All the close calls brought were heart racing and body shakes to the new hunter. Although she was having fun watching the birds come and go I was beginning to get frustrated.

An occasional deer sighting broke up the monotony and than I realized that perhaps the decoys may be the problem. We were using three collapsible hen decoys spaced evenly apart about ten yards into the field. The birds were coming to the call but once they got a look at the decoys they would gobble and than pretty much leave.

We were hunting classic Central Wisconsin alfalfa fields that bordered rolling hardwood forests. It was the second week in May and although I would prefer an earlier week, the nice weather we were having was a blessing hunting with a 13 year old. This week was also my wife Julie’s birthday.

We needed to do something to change our luck. We only had one day left and we had already moved twice. It certainly wasn’t the area we were hunting or the location of our blind. There weren’t many hens around, only an occasional single walk-by early morning and a couple mid day walk-bys accompanied by a jake that wasn’t about to give up his girl friend for three maybe’s. Most hens were now on nests most of the day.

The last day again brought warm temps and a good breeze. We decided to stalk hunt a couple ridge tops over looking some fields. We snuck up a steep wooded hillside and as we approached the top I could see the Toms white head bobbing up and down pecking at the seed on the ground. "Down" I said to Haley as we hit the dirt. "There, at the edge of the field about sixty yards out" I told her. She moved in front of a big oak and I crawled behind it. As I sat on my knees I could peer around the side watching the bird angle towards us.

Haley already had her gun up and I gave a couple soft yelps and clucks. That’s all it took to turn him in our direction. He was now about forty yards out and I told her to take him as soon as she could see his head. Although I have certainly had my share of blunders while hunting I’ve never made this big of a mistake after pulling off a savvy move to get so close.

The bird was ever so slowly moving our way but I just didn’t have the patience to wait. I thought for sure she could easily kill this bird at this range. I told her "Haley, shoot as soon as you see the head". "There’s a tree limb in the way" she responded. "Are you sure" I replied. "Come on Haley, Shoot" I said, the Tom now only thirty yards away. "BANG", the turkey rolled in the classic head shot way and began his death flap,,,,,,or was it.

We jumped up and began hugging, I was ecstatic and she was shaking and smiling. We looked over at the turkey and couldn’t believe what we saw. The bird kind of shook his head, stood up and started running,,,,,"Oh No", I grabbed my gun and shot three times threw the thick woods at the running Tom. I grabbed a couple shells and ran to the spot where the bird went down. There were feathers everywhere and five or ten small drops of blood. I told Haley we should wait awhile before chasing him and let him settle down. "Don’t worry, we’ll find him".

The year before I had to follow a wounded bird and finally found him in a swamp. These birds are like a wounded deer, they’re not easy to locate when wounded. Still I felt confident. If only we had waited until the bird was closer, or kept the gun on the turkey instead of prematurely assuming he was dead. Or making the so often seen on T.V., run to the bird after the shot.

I had Haley stay back at the last feather we found and began a slow walk covering every fall down and bush in the direction the bird ran. It was steep hilly terrain and the cover in the woods was much thicker this late in the season than my last years tracking job. Not to mention the heat of the day was cranking up.

Suddenly an explosion from on top of the hill about fifty yards away. That must be the Tom as I sprinted up the hill. These forty-five plus year old legs just couldn’t keep up with the bird and I again I began a slow stalk. After about a half mile of exercise I started losing hope. Just than a turkey flushed twenty yards in front of me climbing towards the tree tops. As I put the bead on the birds head I noticed it was a hen. It was probable that the bird that flushed earlier was also this hen and I had been chasing after the wrong turkey.

I circled back to Haley and gave her the bad news. We searched the area for three hours to the end of the day and found no sign of him. When we arrived back at camp we found out my eighteen year old son had scored a nice Tom and earlier in the season my uncle had bagged his bird.

The next morning we came back and hunted our final day of the spring. We did see one gobbler but never did find her wounded bird. She did have a good time and I was turkey-less also. I’ve shot many turkeys on different weeks but I’ve hunted this week several times before and have never shot a bird this first week of May, my wife’s birthday is May 6^th and although I try and avoid being gone this week Murphy’s law always pops up every few years.

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