Never, in over 40 years of turkey hunting, had I ever heard turkey talk like this. Two hens where cutting, cackling, and yelping non-stop, with 15-20 toms gobbling on their every sound. It was something out of a turkey dream, with my ear drums almost bursting. All this was within 50 yards of me. It was ridiculous!!
My morning started with a stroll to listen for gobbles. Having heard one; I moved down hill from him and sat beside a tree. I gave a few soft yelps and several gobblers answered from all over the hill above me. The intensity, frequency, and number of birds continued to increase. As fly down time approached, near mayhem of continuous gobbling was going on above me. I couldn’t calculate the number of toms that were on the hillside. Along with the sound of flapping wings as the birds flew down, I also started to hear various hens yelping, and I knew I was in trouble. The birds gathered on a shelf about 100 yards above me and carried on like school children on the playground. Fighting, purring, yelping, cutting, cackling, putting… every noise made by a turkey, including some I didn’t know, was going on at rock concert intensity above me. My feeble calling may have drawn responses, but who could tell.
It was time to make a move. I slipped 50 yards up the hill and dug in tight against a large oak. My cutting brought one of the hens in on the attack, and she cut and cackled her beak off at me. Every sound she made brought dozens of gobbles. She was about 30 yards above me and sailed off the cliff over my head cackling like a crazy witch. Immediately, somewhere between 15 and 20 gobblers raced down the hill right into my lap. Overwhelmed by so many birds, I choose a decent long beard and squeezed the trigger, dropping him on the spot. Instead of running away, the other birds charged their fallen comrade and beat him with a vengeance, making every turkey noise imaginable, and many that may never be heard again. All this within 20 yards of me, and went on for the next half hour. They would take turns spurring him, then picking his head up with their beak and smashing it into the ground.
If they had any idea what the camouflage blob with the stick that goes boom was, they gave no indication. I have often said I can sit rock still, and I guess this was a testament to that. They eventually tired of the game and wandered off up the hill, opposite of where the hen had flown to. Go Figure!
I doubt I’ll ever experience a spectacle like that again, but I’m sure glad I was there today.
