Hunter’s Journal

  It’s the 3^rd weekend of the Nebraska shotgun season and the weather up until Friday morning was rain, rain, and rain.  The forecast said clear and sunny all weekend, I was praying they were right and the Tom’s would be “ready”.

This hunt was incredibly special for me as I not only had 3 first time Turkey hunters but I also had 3 generations of hunters.  The Grandfather (Allen), his son (Eric) and his 13-year-old grandson (Sackett)!  Not all of us have had the opportunity to be on a hunt like this with our fathers and much less our father and grandfather.

Friday morning we set up about 400 yards from a roost and for once the birds fly out and start coming our way.  The Tom’s were leading the pack and feeding fast towards us.  They wouldn’t close the distance less than 40 yards and the hens were feeding 50 yards to our right and 20 yards out.  I was getting nervous that the Tom’s would continue on and the hens would bust us.  So, I called the shot at 42 yards – a clean miss and Eric was beating himself up all day.  I wasn’t concerned that they all had opportunities on Friday and by Friday night, my hands hadn’t touched a bird.  I knew these gentlemen had learned a lot about Turkey’s in their first day and I was anxious to see how they applied it the next day.

Saturday morning we set up in a position really close to a lone roosted Tom.  He flew down and headed east as Sackett and I pursued on foot.  I’ve never seen a Tom move like that without being spooked.  We simply didn’t have enough cover to catch up to him and he still walks that property today.  As I was deciding which direction to go, I glance at the field below us and see 2 Jake’s strutting, a Tom strutting and 8 hens’.  I collect dad and grandpa to move closer.  We get within 100 yards of the birds and set up on a fence line.  I started calling softly and eventually the hens start feeding our way.  At the end, Allen was in a position for the best shot but the Tom wouldn’t come out of strut.  I hit that diaphragm call with aggression and he picked his head up.  Allen had taken his first Turkey at 68 years old.

We moved to another farm for the afternoon hunt and set up in an abandon farmstead where the Turkeys were just outside the shelterbelt in the field.  That Tom had too many hen’s and not cooperating at all.  About the time I felt a little discouraged, a truck goes by on the dirt road and the sound of gobbles makes my heart jump.  I sneak through the cover to get a position on them and they’re coming down the wood line in the field.  We set up for the ambush.  They make their way to us and I call the shot.  Allen’s connected with bird number 2 for the day, Eric takes his first bird and Sackett is left disappointed for the 2^nd day in a row.

Sunday morning comes and goes with no good shot opportunities so we have lunch and move back to the Saturday afternoon “honey hole”.  As we’re driving past the first drainage we spot 2 Tom’s making their way down it.  A perfect set up for us as we can get around in front of them without them seeing us.  Long story short, Sackett’s disappointed grows stronger after a miss on a Tom of a lifetime at 23 yards.  Not to worry, we always save the best for last.  As were making our way to set up in the abandoned farmstead, Sackett, his grandpa and I move around the barn and a jelly head not 30 yards in front of us picks his head up.  Sackett drops him where he stands.  Turkey’s are running past us as I tell him “take that jake”; he swings and connects on that one too.  The smiles replace the looks of disappointment as we measure a 10” beard and 1 1/8” spurs on a beautiful double.

The “Tri-Fecta” was complete.  3 first time Turkey hunters, 3 generations of hunters and 3 first time Turkey Harvesters.  They ended up with 2 Tom’s and 3 really nice Jake’s.

Brady