Field Staff

Peter Wood

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A Hunter's Tale - Flying Blind

I was determined to bag a decent sized Gobbler this year, or as a last resort a chunky Jake to fill my tag by the last sunset of May. After all that's what Bar-B-Q rotisseries were designed for. Unfortunately the local Boss Tom was attached to a flock of amorous purring Hens on opening day this season. Having scouted various farms in March & April I knew the Gobblers were sounding off well before sunrise. Most late afternoons when I checked roost sites there was seldom a gobble, cluck or cackle to be heard at fly up.

Day two I was positioned along a south facing gnarly hedge row that joined two promising Wild Turkey roost bush lots. At least those turkey tracks left in April's late snowfall said so. Poco my hunting buddy for the past twenty years and I were strategically positioned. Poco was propped against a small Maple tree eighty yards east of me along the same hedgerow. We had placed six turkey decoys between our make shift hiding spots in hopes of enticing a frustrated Gobbler to strut out from the safety of either bush lot.

Moments after first light, well before sunrise a hen fluttered to the ground off to my right. She must have been lonely from that long night perched on that limb by the sounds of cackling and clucking echoing from within the woodlot. Clucking and purring the hen checked out our decoys briefly then continued south-easterly to last years harvested soy bean field.

In a distant woodlot to the west a single gobble whispered to me, my watch revealed 06:42. Three fence lines between me and the Tom said I never stood a chance. Failure wasn't such a great option so with nothing to lose I cranked out some high pitched yelping on my Gobble Stalker Glass pot call to elicit a response. Moments pass; Nothing. Reaching for my Gobble Stalker box call I smoothly slid the paddle across its chalked edge.

Two fields over I glassed three black blobs headed my way through my Vortex Razors! Shifting slowly to my right my fingers tighten around my binoculars. I knew my movements wouldn't be spotted if those birds also moving. My 10x42 optics enlightened me that this trio of thrilled turkeys were Juvenile Jakes. My hopes rose dramatically, perhaps sixty yards further west a flock of eight hens and a Boss Gobbler were parading this way.

Well the Jakes investigated our six lifeless forms stuck in the cut corn field. An easy shot to be sure. Poco and I both held our ground knowing a strutting Tom would come by eventually, or so we thought. Alas the Boss Tom and his flock of clucking Hens passed by us avoiding those six plastic motionless podgy silhouettes by at least eighty yards. The birds eventually evaporated into the pine forest at the edge of the field.

It was now after ten bells. Four hours since first light and not a bird to be seen since an hour after sunrise. Stomachs were rumbling louder than distant thunder. A quick trip into town to re-supply our depleted caffeine and carbohydrates was in order. We decided to set up my Double Bull Matrix Blind beside a hedgerow where the wandering flock crossed in hopes of an easy afternoon hunt. I had carted it in the darkness but decided to not use it. We left most of our hunting gear in the blind and toted our shotguns back to lock up in our trucks.

An hour later after a filling feast we arrived back at the laneway which was about a quarter mile from the blind. Now I don't know about you, but after being up since way before the crack of dawn I was ready for a short nap in the back seat of my GMC. Poco heartedly agreed as he reclined the seat in his Ford.

I'm not sure if it was the howling wind or the twigs and sticks bouncing off my window that jolted me awake, but I knew we had slept way too long! The western skyline was darkening rapidly but my watched showed it was only minutes before 1pm.

All our rain gear and knapsacks were stowed in the Matrix. We surmised we could trudge to the blind before whatever was going to pass by reached us. Distant whirlwinds of dust and corn stalks agitated the rolling field as we trekked out.

Rain drops started to pelt us as we picked up the pace. We still had over 300 yards to get to the cover of the blind.

As we crested a small knoll the wind pounded us with its full force. This was going to get ugly real fast. Suddenly straight ahead five turkeys had lifted off from an unseen hollow. With an accelerated tail wind they were literally swept from our sight. I shouted to Poco "Looks like our afternoon hunt is cancelled!" Poco shouted back "I know what spooked those Turkeys" pointing to the west.

Rolling along like a five foot round tumbleweed my Matrix blind was headed straight towards us! Bouncing and rolling erratically it continued down one hill and up another. It was almost comical as this gigantic camouflaged blind tumbled closer and closer towards us.

We continued our trek to retrieve any wind blown gear but at least the blind was being delivered. Almost a minute passed and my bouncing blind never appeared over that last knoll. Regrettably I suddenly realized why.

The Wood Duck pond was there. Now wading through frigid slimy obnoxious odorous swamp water that was just below my belt was considerably less fun than calling in a giant Gobbler is all I have to say, even if my blind could fly like a Turkey. Being ever the optimist my Matrix blind is now cat-tailed and scented, ready for Deer hunting season.

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