Post by brian on Nov 19, 2007 17:13:59 GMT -5
I'm here at work twiddling my thumbs. Yep thats right nothing to do again. I'm getting tired of this slow time that the company goes through every year about this time. Its hard to find ways to entertain myself for however long I might be here. Anyway, I'm sitting here at my desk looking out the window daydreaming about turkey hunting and how I liked to be in the woods just hoping to here one of my little friends. The elation I feel when I might here a yelp or gobble, sends a feeling of calmness through my tired old body. Its almost as if I were there now.
The morning is cool and a heavy fog sits on the valley. I walk into the field and its as if I am in a different world. With the heavy fog I can't make out anything. The closer I get to my tree I can barely make out the tree line. I get to the edge of the field and begin to look for my tree that I chose the night before. A sense of worry comes over me, "what if I can't find the tree." Shaking it off and convince myself that I have been here before, at least a 100 time, so don't worry. There it is, a large beautiful Black Jack with its broad trunk and mushroom like canopy. I take a seat and wait intently for the sun to break over the rise.
The sun comes up as it pierces the fog making the valley ever so slightly visible. I can just make out six images in an old cottonwood along a creek bottom about 50 yards away. A sense of relief fills me. "Good morning" I quietly say to myself, "Its good to see you again." I knew it wouldn't be long before the dead silence would soon come to an end.
Listening intently I could her a hen gently whispering to the boys at the top of the tree, "Its time to get up guys." A few minutes passed and a thunderous gobble echoed through the woods. I could almost feel the timber shake as the old gobbler came to life. Again and again he made it quite clear, he was the king, and was ready to begin the day.
I could see in the mist of the fog that the group was coming to life. I watched intently as the king stretched and flapped to shake off the weary night. I knew this was the time to let him know that there was a lonely little hen close by. I reached for my call and ever so gently scratched out a soft tree yelp. The old tom stood and turned his head to look in my direction to see the lonely hen sitting patiently on the ground.
He turns and positions himself, displaying his large body, like a great king on a thrown. Then all at once he swoops down , landing not even thirty yards from his certain demise. He is beautiful, I thought to myself, as he strutted and displayed for the young hen. He was a grand bird, definitely worthy of the title "King".
I positioned myself to cease this great opportunity at such a majestic bird. It was as if he never knew I was even there with him as he paraded around. With the gun trained on his head and the safety off, something odd happened and to this day I can not explain.
I safety the weapon and gently lowered it. I would set there and watch him for probably another thirty minutes as he displayed for me. A weird feeling came over me during that time. It was as if he was telling me that he belonged here and the woods wouldn't be the same if I were gone. I agreed, as i watched him slowly walk away to rejoin his harem.
Believe it or not this story actually happened three years ago. My family and I still see him every now and then. We have named him King and no matter the time of year he always will strut for me. Its as if he's saying "Hello old friend. Its good to see you."
Every time I take a friend into the woods and they're lucky enough to catch a glimpse of him, they marvel. They agonize in pain, begging me for an opportunity at him. I quietly say no and proceed to another area.
King has become a friend. I can be any where on the property and I can recognize his voice from all the other subordinate toms. It will be a truly sad day when his gobble is no longer heard in the valley.
Ghost
The morning is cool and a heavy fog sits on the valley. I walk into the field and its as if I am in a different world. With the heavy fog I can't make out anything. The closer I get to my tree I can barely make out the tree line. I get to the edge of the field and begin to look for my tree that I chose the night before. A sense of worry comes over me, "what if I can't find the tree." Shaking it off and convince myself that I have been here before, at least a 100 time, so don't worry. There it is, a large beautiful Black Jack with its broad trunk and mushroom like canopy. I take a seat and wait intently for the sun to break over the rise.
The sun comes up as it pierces the fog making the valley ever so slightly visible. I can just make out six images in an old cottonwood along a creek bottom about 50 yards away. A sense of relief fills me. "Good morning" I quietly say to myself, "Its good to see you again." I knew it wouldn't be long before the dead silence would soon come to an end.
Listening intently I could her a hen gently whispering to the boys at the top of the tree, "Its time to get up guys." A few minutes passed and a thunderous gobble echoed through the woods. I could almost feel the timber shake as the old gobbler came to life. Again and again he made it quite clear, he was the king, and was ready to begin the day.
I could see in the mist of the fog that the group was coming to life. I watched intently as the king stretched and flapped to shake off the weary night. I knew this was the time to let him know that there was a lonely little hen close by. I reached for my call and ever so gently scratched out a soft tree yelp. The old tom stood and turned his head to look in my direction to see the lonely hen sitting patiently on the ground.
He turns and positions himself, displaying his large body, like a great king on a thrown. Then all at once he swoops down , landing not even thirty yards from his certain demise. He is beautiful, I thought to myself, as he strutted and displayed for the young hen. He was a grand bird, definitely worthy of the title "King".
I positioned myself to cease this great opportunity at such a majestic bird. It was as if he never knew I was even there with him as he paraded around. With the gun trained on his head and the safety off, something odd happened and to this day I can not explain.
I safety the weapon and gently lowered it. I would set there and watch him for probably another thirty minutes as he displayed for me. A weird feeling came over me during that time. It was as if he was telling me that he belonged here and the woods wouldn't be the same if I were gone. I agreed, as i watched him slowly walk away to rejoin his harem.
Believe it or not this story actually happened three years ago. My family and I still see him every now and then. We have named him King and no matter the time of year he always will strut for me. Its as if he's saying "Hello old friend. Its good to see you."
Every time I take a friend into the woods and they're lucky enough to catch a glimpse of him, they marvel. They agonize in pain, begging me for an opportunity at him. I quietly say no and proceed to another area.
King has become a friend. I can be any where on the property and I can recognize his voice from all the other subordinate toms. It will be a truly sad day when his gobble is no longer heard in the valley.
Ghost