Despite my disbelief nothing can or will be done about the outrageous gasoline prices, I try to be a realist and accept the fact they are, for the present, here to stay.
However, I refuse to take it lying down when those asinine prices at the pump begin to affect my hunting. Such is already the case, as we have vowed this year to hunt turkeys as close to home as possible. Unfortunately the turkey population within our self-imposed two- to three-mile radius of home is rather “skinny” as my coworker would say.
Where we’re hunting, the flock started as seven or eight birds, at least half of them gobblers, but is now only two hens and a jake.
The property is a small farmstead with a few old buildings but no house, and sets back a long gravel lane bordered by wheat on both sides. Parallel to the drive and a couple hundred yards across the wheat field is a thick tree row with some nice tall cottonwoods and a muddy stream running through it.
At the end of the lane, behind the buildings, is a large rolling pasture with numerous clumps of trees and shrubs, and the stream twisting its way through it like ribbon candy. I sat in the lane one evening about one month ago and watched the gobblers (then still plural) roost in the cottonwoods well away from the pasture and buildings.
A few days later, we planted our blind in the corner where the pasture and tree row converge, believing we had the perfect setup — problem no. 1.
My wife and I both work full time jobs, so much of our spring turkey hunting is done in the evening — problem no. 2.
The landowner tells us on evenings we don’t hunt, the trio often comes through the pasture around 6:15 p.m. When we’re there however, the birds don’t show, and we give up too early and go home.
Now back to the aforementioned problem no. 1, our “perfect setup.”
We placed the blind on Friday night, and silently slipped toward it early Saturday morning. With just enough morning light to walk without a flashlight, we glided through the pasture under the assumption the birds were roosted well away from us.
As we unzipped the door to the blind, a gobble erupted so close and so loudly we both nearly wet our pants; the group was roosted right next door. So much for planning.
