The alarm was set to become obnoxious at 4:30 am, but I was already up. The workman-like routine entailed making a tank of coffee, a sandwich, and a covert retreat to my spacious turkey blind. The fourth morning of the late turkey season had me wondering what type of wildlife antics would unfold before my eyes; the first three sessions did not disappoint.
First, the setup. An old hoop blind – the type that is impossible to twist back into toting shape – and large enough to accommodate two occupants and/or gear. In this case, I’d be hunting alone, so a tripod and consumer-grade Canon Vixia movie camera would occupy the window to my left.
The chosen site is in heavy soil and, as often the case in springtime, it’s wet. To combat the moisture, a layer of plastic is put down with a moving blanket over the top. Poof. A comfy living space for a long morning.
The enclosed blind keeps me and my gear dry, and before wondering what type of wimp I’ve become, I don’t know anyone who’d sit in the rain for 6 hours and risk ruining cameras. The innate beauty of even an old, sun scorched, off-color hideout is that it allows a hunter to laugh at the weather and dumbfounded animals.
I mention dumbfounded, because that’s the impulse of whitetail deer that come upon a lifeless, synthetic, but otherwise seemingly normal turkey.
Something’s not right about this
They’ll stomp their hooves and jump around in an effort to elicit some type of response. Nothing. Never. But, it sure gives me a phenomenal close-up view of the health of the local herd. A bevy of bucks sport giraffe-like antlers covered in velvet and travel together in a group. They sure seem to appreciate those luscious legumes we planted for them last fall.
And, then a coyote appears sunlit atop a ridge and standing broadside only 100 yards away. Dang it. Sure would like to save a few fawns by taking it out, but another day. Another day for sure. Today, I’m after drumsticks.
It’s easy to forget the purpose sometimes, however. Eastern bluebirds, crows, sandhill cranes, catbirds, robins, and even a few geese to keep this birder’s eyes and ears occupied. And, while aiming the camera at a couple of Canada geese, a hurried noise erupts to my right.
Here comes one outraged turkey hen marching purposefully toward my cheap rubber accomplice. So, when is the last time you’ve seen a live performance of the Mexican Hat Dance? Several complete agitated circles around the intruder and a few more choice utterances, and the satisfied boss hen ate a path into the field right in front of me. And, it’s all going on Youtube (in due time).
Pulling the trigger on a gobbler would be anticlimactic. It always is. But, for now, the show goes on.
