whitetailfreak
Senior Member
As is usually the case this time of year it was time for a road trip with my longtime huntin' buddy. In the last few years we have done Florida, Maine, Nebraska, Colorado, Kansas, and this year we drew a non-res Illinois turkey tag. Plans were made and even a posh little vrbo was rented in the shadows of some of the most vast public land East of the Mississippi River. The public lands were infinite it seemed and it took a few days to gain our bearings but unlike some of the other states we had hunted the terrain had us feeling right at home. With steep ridges carpeted in Mayapple, large White Oak flats and big Poplar with fern in the hollers our hunt could have very well been on a Georgia Ridge and Valley WMA if we didn't know better.
Around noon of the second day of hunting we were out prospecting and struck a bird, and like clockwork we made the mistake that we've made time and time again over the years. We predetermined who would sit "first gun" and kill the bird if the opportunity arose. This Tom was hot and in short order strutted to our set-up but there was only one problem. A large Red Oak was blocking my buddy's shot and he couldn't see the bird that was a mere 15 steps from his position. For several minutes I'm watching the Gobbler with my bead on his head at 35 yards but I just couldn't shoot, as it had been decided minutes earlier that he was gonna be the trigger man. As I kept waiting for what seemed like an eternity for Joey to pull the trigger, my mind was made up and I wasn't gonna do it. There was no way I was shooting this bird. I'd rather him walk away unscathed than shoot this Tom out from under my best hunting buddy of nearly 30 years. Now, I'm certainly not to blame. There's undoubtedly a force in the universe that's sole purpose is to use Long bearded Gobblers, Old Trophy Bucks and Twenty Inch Trout to ruin marriages and friendships and I'm convinced this force is what made me pull the trigger. What we had now was a flopping Gobbler 15 steps from Joey and him wondering what the heck just happened. The truth is my pal was the first one to the bird and was quick to congratulate me on a fine 3 year old Illinois Gobbler. In all actuality the bird had topped the ridge and was staring down my position knowing that a hen should be there. I was convinced that he knew something wasn't right and it was a matter of seconds before he was to dip back below the ridge never giving my buddy an opportunity. With friends like me, who needs enemies, but this was no doubt a hunt that'll be talked about for a lifetime.
The following morning I was to redeem myself as I had roosted several Gobblers together the previous evening. I was going to slip in with only the light of the moon and position Joey within 75 yards of the roosted longbeards and that's exactly what happened. As it began to get light the birds started sounding off and gobbled 20 or 30 times on the roost and I just knew my redemption was gonna happen quickly. It was quiet possible that we wouldn't even have to call to them, but as the birds pitched down overshooting our position and quickly heading in the opposite direction the words of Steinbach came to mind. Several attempts at repositioning were unsuccessful and soon we were looking for a new bird and one that wanted to play. As luck would have it, around mid morning we got a bird to gobble in the distance and made our way towards him. He allowed us to keep tabs on his position with a crow call and soon we were on the same backbone only 100 yards or so above his location. It didn't take long for the Tom to make his cautious approach to our calling and Joey pulled the trigger. I let out a sigh of relief thankful my good friend had a mature Gobbler flopping out in front of him and grateful that road trip 2024 was a safe and successful one.
Around noon of the second day of hunting we were out prospecting and struck a bird, and like clockwork we made the mistake that we've made time and time again over the years. We predetermined who would sit "first gun" and kill the bird if the opportunity arose. This Tom was hot and in short order strutted to our set-up but there was only one problem. A large Red Oak was blocking my buddy's shot and he couldn't see the bird that was a mere 15 steps from his position. For several minutes I'm watching the Gobbler with my bead on his head at 35 yards but I just couldn't shoot, as it had been decided minutes earlier that he was gonna be the trigger man. As I kept waiting for what seemed like an eternity for Joey to pull the trigger, my mind was made up and I wasn't gonna do it. There was no way I was shooting this bird. I'd rather him walk away unscathed than shoot this Tom out from under my best hunting buddy of nearly 30 years. Now, I'm certainly not to blame. There's undoubtedly a force in the universe that's sole purpose is to use Long bearded Gobblers, Old Trophy Bucks and Twenty Inch Trout to ruin marriages and friendships and I'm convinced this force is what made me pull the trigger. What we had now was a flopping Gobbler 15 steps from Joey and him wondering what the heck just happened. The truth is my pal was the first one to the bird and was quick to congratulate me on a fine 3 year old Illinois Gobbler. In all actuality the bird had topped the ridge and was staring down my position knowing that a hen should be there. I was convinced that he knew something wasn't right and it was a matter of seconds before he was to dip back below the ridge never giving my buddy an opportunity. With friends like me, who needs enemies, but this was no doubt a hunt that'll be talked about for a lifetime.
The following morning I was to redeem myself as I had roosted several Gobblers together the previous evening. I was going to slip in with only the light of the moon and position Joey within 75 yards of the roosted longbeards and that's exactly what happened. As it began to get light the birds started sounding off and gobbled 20 or 30 times on the roost and I just knew my redemption was gonna happen quickly. It was quiet possible that we wouldn't even have to call to them, but as the birds pitched down overshooting our position and quickly heading in the opposite direction the words of Steinbach came to mind. Several attempts at repositioning were unsuccessful and soon we were looking for a new bird and one that wanted to play. As luck would have it, around mid morning we got a bird to gobble in the distance and made our way towards him. He allowed us to keep tabs on his position with a crow call and soon we were on the same backbone only 100 yards or so above his location. It didn't take long for the Tom to make his cautious approach to our calling and Joey pulled the trigger. I let out a sigh of relief thankful my good friend had a mature Gobbler flopping out in front of him and grateful that road trip 2024 was a safe and successful one.
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