There were too many turkeys. The birds were everywhere and no discernable pattern was coming to light. Turkeys came from behind, the front, the right, and were walking off to the left. Sounds like a problem anyone would love to have? At the time, it was my crux to deal with no clear solution.

Each year for the last 5 years late April and early May translate to a trip North to chase longbeards. The setting is familiar and lessons from each year are analyzed and applied to the next year’s strategy. This year’s hunt would be solo due to a stroke suffered by my mentor. An unfortunate event, but the recovery is ongoing so optimism is the key. Owing my love and success in turkey hunting to him, he has been in my prayers asking for many more Spring’s together. Having observed activity over the years an inside corner of an ag field was selected to set up this year’s operation. With it being early in the season three decoys were set, a jake and two hens.

Gobbles were sounding off before the setup was complete. Things were looking good, too good. Four longbeards were all within 100 yards and happy to let any hen that would listen know they were around. As the sun lit the woods, the gobbles grew closer. The Tom’s had flown down and wasted no time heading in my direction. Their line was direct and soon over my right shoulder the first showed. Followed quickly by a second, two Tom’s were within 60 yards. They had a third with them just behind the rise they had commandeered. The fourth gobbler appeared to have stayed back to the North but with all the activity, he wasn’t missed.

Assuming the two visible birds would continue along their current path my weight was shifted to the left and the gun was readied. The shot would be almost 180 deg to what was expected, but provisions had been made and a steady rest was available. This is when it became evident there were too many birds. Hens started clucking in every direction. It was the best audible display of turkey behavior I have ever experienced. Simply brilliant. Gobbles, clucks, purrs, all of it.

Not needing to call at this point since no birds were interested in my decoys, I focused on shifting from one side of the tree I was leaned against to the other. The bulk of the birds had hung up exactly 180 degrees from where the decoys were staged. This made for a period of very tense and physically uncomfortable moments. The gobbler and hens had more or less stopped on a slight rise in the forest floor and commenced to quite the game of cat and mouse. They would move to the right, then back to the left. It was nerve-racking to say the least.

Needing to take a break from my trial as a contortionist, I faced forward towards the decoys. That’s when it was noticed a hen had snuck in opposite all the commotion and was followed by a gobbler of her own. Quickly the game shifted and now the hope was the decoys, coupled with all the activity inside the woodline, would bring the new contestants within range. This particular hen was having nothing to do with it and strangely flew off deep into the woods. Her onlooker stuck around for a few minutes but eventually moved off opposite all the other gobblers.

With the focus back on the gang of birds to the East, one of the hens broke off and b-lined away from the other birds. It was difficult to tell for certain but it appeared she took one of the Tom’s with her. She was quite vocal and it was a pleasure to merely listen. The two gobblers and harem of hens continued to banter back and forth on the rise for 10 more minutes. That’s when four of the hens decided to break off and walk directly towards me. Not knowing how things would unfold, multiple scenarios played through my head. Their current path would put them on top of me, likely spooking them and taking the gobblers with them. On the other hand it was clear that the hens needed to make a move to bring the Tom’s within range.

Nearing to within 20 yards the hens scratched and pecked the ground completely unaware of my presence. After a time, they decided to switch directions. It wasn’t clear at first but this was the break that needed to happen. The hens didn’t return to the rise but rather continued working to the South as I had hoped they would. The longbeards were not happy with this decision and made it clear with puffed chests and deep gobbles. With the hens moving off the two playboys couldn’t help but to try and coral them back up. Slowly coming off the rise the boys committed to a direction. This allowed me to finally shift back to the left and stage the gun on the pre-arranged rest.

Knowing I had them at this point it was a matter of letting the hens clear and the two boys to separate. They were unique as I tracked them both with the bead. One’s head was as red as could be while the other was frosty blue. The red head was working closer but managed to maintain some sort of interference between the two of us. The last hen worked off so when Mr. Freeze stepped from behind a stump the gun automatically zeroed in on him. He was facing directly towards me and the shot was lined up with the safety off. That’s when I froze. It would be over the second the trigger was pulled. Knowing the time was right and the purpose of this trip, my senses came back.

The 3” shell paired with a #7 tungsten load did it’s job. At 44 yards the bird dropped, flopped for a short time, and became still. The rest of the group scrambled to figure out what had happened and opted for a new venue. It was just me and the recently deceased Tom. I didn’t get up immediately. I sat back and gave thanks while reassessing what had just happened. Eventually rising, the bird was officially recovered and tagged. My morning wasn’t over though. Sitting back down, I spent another two hours in the woods just observing. Deer moved through. More turkeys came and went. Snow fell and wind blew. It felt good just being a part of it. While turkey will bless my family’s table now, the gain from this hunt goes well beyond the sustenance that bird will provide.