BRUNCH-TIME GOBBLERS
Middle-of-the-Road Gobbler
 EDITOR'S
NOTE: I first hunted with David Hale about 25-years
ago. Although I had the same shoe size I have now, I
had a waist about three-sizes smaller and lots more
hair. Both of us young men had just started our careers
in the outdoors, and both of us wanted to take a turkey.
Although we worked hard all morning to try and bag a
gobbler, the bird we'd picked chose a flock of hens
to move through the woods with, rather than coming to
our calling. But I learned right away that I couldn't
tag David Hale a quick quitter. I found out that he'd
hunt turkeys from before daylight until the falling
of darkness or the law made him stop.
"We gotta go, John," Hale told me after we'd
failed to take a bird on our morning hunt. "We've
gotta cover ground and find a bird that's lonesome in
the middle of the morning. We'll run these hills until
we locate a turkey that will talk." From about
7:30 a.m. until we finally heard a tom gobble at 10:00
a.m., we walked the mountainous areas around Cadiz,
Kentucky, near Hale's home. Let me rephrase that. We
didn't actually walk as we traveled from mountaintop
to mountaintop but moved at the quick step, a rate of
speed somewhere between fast walking and running. Every
150 yards Hale would say, "Wait a minute,  John.
Let's check this hollow." Then Hale would cut and
cackle on a diaphragm call. As I tried to suck in enough
air to relieve the tightness I felt in my lungs, I'd
next hear, "John, slow down your breathing so I
can hear better."
For most of the morning, I thought this exercise an
effort in futility. Yet at 10:15 a.m., like the ringing
of a school bell or a blast on a plant whistle signifying
a shift change, a turkey gobbled as clearly and distinctly
as I'd ever heard a bird talk. Hale immediately announced,
"There he is. I knew if we covered enough ground
and called long enough, sooner or later we'd locate
a hot bird." But I knew someone else hot besides
the turkey. Even in the chilly morning air, I'd built
up a head of steam and had become soaked with sweat
from the brim of my cap to the tips of my socks, trying
to keep up with Hale. "I believe that bird will
come down that old logging road on the side of the hill,"
Hale observed. "Let's drop off the side of this
ridge, and set up beside that logging road." Following
Hale's directions, we went toward the turkey. I'd barely
gotten comfortable sitting beside a big pine tree when
Hale whispered, "He's coming." When I whispered
back that I couldn't see the tom, Hale told me the bird
had gone down into a little dip in the road. "John,
although you can't see him now, he'll pop up in just
a minute. Get comfortable, put your gun on your knee,
and ready yourself to take the shot. When that gobbler
comes up out of that dip in  the
road, he'll be about 50 yards from you. Just let him
keep coming until he reaches that pine stump on the
left-hand side of the road. He'll be about 30 yards
from you there, and then you can take the shot."
I couldn't believe my hunt had almost ended. In less
than five minutes, I should have my turkey, and Hale
and I would head out of the woods back to camp. I knew
Hale had set us up in a good place and that the bird
would present a clean and easy shot if he walked beside
the stump on the side of the road. Just as Hale predicted,
the tom came out of the dip. Soon I spotted his white,
cotton-colored head moving up the road. Then I could
see his big bronze body waddling from side to side,
and his ropelike beard swinging with the rhythm of his
stride. I began to breathe deeply and quickly with excitement
because of the large size of this bird that easily weighed
20 pounds or more. I realized that bagging this tom
would give me bragging rights. The bird kept walking
until he reached the stump. As the turkey continued
moving about 5 yards past the stump, Hale clucked on
his diaphragm call. The bird's head went straight up
like a periscope. Hale told me to, "Take him."
 I
squeezed the trigger and created a memory for life -
but not the one you would think or the one I'd hoped
to get. As I watched, the big bird jumped straight up
in the air and flew away. I wished I'd had an excuse
to offer when Hale asked, "What happened? Why did
you miss? The bird was standing still in the middle
of the road with his head up and waiting to die."
Although my brain went into high gear, replaying the
shot as quickly as possible, I could find absolutely
no reason for my miss. I finally just looked at Hale
like a whipped puppy and explained that, "I don't
know what happened. I just missed." Now, missing
while hunting alone doesn't involve nearly the shame
that comes with missing while hunting with one of the
legends of turkey hunting like David Hale. However,
I learned then about the Brotherhood of Misses in the
Fraternity of Gobbler Chasers as Hale grinned and said,
"Aw, don't worry about it, John. I miss turkeys
too. Although I haven't missed one as open as that one
was, I still miss them. "Don't worry. That gobbler
just whipped us. However, we'll get another one either
today or tomorrow. Let's go hunt some more. Besides,
if you'd killed that turkey, we'd have to quit hunting.
Now we can keep on hunting and maybe find another bird."
The next day we did locate another gobbler, and I redeemed
myself. However, I'll never forget that big mid-morning
bird standing in the middle of the road on the first
day I ever hunted with David Hale. I learned so much
that day about turkey hunting in the middle of the morning
and about persevering and staying after gobblers until
you finally made one talk.
TOMORROW: MID-MORNING GOBBLER
TACTICS
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