Sometimes the Best Thing to Do Is Just Stay Put

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Like all turkey hunters, I went into the woods expecting a quick hunt — a tom flying down, running into my decoys, and the hunt ending shortly after sunrise. In those days, I would take opening day off. While I always claimed I would hunt all morning, it was tough to do. There were always things pulling me back home — maybe the yard that needed mowing or meeting a friend to go fishing. Time has never been my friend, but patience has improved.

That morning, gobblers were sounding off from their roosts, but they weren’t as close as I would have liked. There’s a fine line between being too close and bumping them off their roosts and being too far away, where hens might intercept them before they reach your setup. That’s what happened that day — a tom responded to my calls, but as it got lighter, I could hear he wasn’t alone.

At the time I expected to see him flopping in my decoys, a tom did appear at the far end of the pasture, where I had set up my blind along the edge. He was strutting and gobbling occasionally, but he never came closer. A lone hen wandered through my decoys and went to him. All I could do was sit in my blind and watch the turkey two-step unfold. Eventually, the tom and hen returned to the timber. My calls drew no response, and I wasn’t even sure if he was still nearby as the morning wore on.

In the early days, I would have packed up, loaded my gear onto the four-wheeler and headed home — especially since I used to sit on the ground with a small folding seat and a thin foam pad, backed up to a tree. My decoys would be 25 yards away, and I’d try not to move, even if a mosquito got under my head net. Though I was fully camouflaged, I still felt like I stuck out like a sore thumb.

But this morning was different. I was in a folding chair with a cold soda, a bag of jerky and my cell phone stashed in the pocket of my Ameristep blind. I was nearly as comfortable as I would’ve been in my recliner at home. I had already received texts and photos from friends who had bagged toms and others reporting that gobbling had stopped and it was shaping up to be a long morning.

I continued calling every 15 minutes, but it stayed quiet. Around 10 a.m., with the blind warming up, I stood and stretched, then glassed the hillside I couldn’t see while seated. That’s when I caught sight of the top of a turkey fan just above the rise where the tom had last disappeared.

That sight snapped me out of my midmorning daze. I gave some excited cutts and purrs on my slate call, and the tom cut me off with a gobble. I went quiet, waiting to see what he’d do. I can’t figure people out, so trying to understand turkeys is even more difficult. But soon the tom appeared at the crest of the rise, looking down on my decoy spread.

After another round of excited calls, he gobbled again and began walking toward me. When he reached the fence line of the pasture, he veered left, looking for an opening. He disappeared behind clumps of trees, then reappeared. At the far end of the pasture, near a gate, he strutted briefly, then started walking in steadily.

As he got closer to the decoys, he picked up speed. At about 50 yards out, he went into that fast, determined walk — feathers bristling. He was heading for my Avian-X jake decoy, posed in a challenging stance. There’s no doubt he would have won the fight, but the decoy has never claimed a victory.

I had already positioned the barrel of my Browning A5 through the window. Before the tom could make contact with my decoy, I pulled the trigger, ending the hunt.

Sometimes, I can be successful calling in a tom. Other times, I’m not sure I’m even using a turkey call properly. Success depends on how receptive a tom is and how willing he is to come in. But on this hunt, I credited my Ameristep pop-up blind and folding chair — they made it comfortable enough to stay put and let the morning play out.

That said, I’ve also sat in that blind until the final minute of legal shooting light with nothing to show for it. That’s why it’s called hunting.

Yes, there are days I miss traveling light — just a shotgun slung over my shoulder, no blind, no chair, no decoys. But once everything’s set up and I settle in to wait for the woods to wake up, I’m pretty comfortable.

There’s still something special about sitting on the ground, hearing a tom sneak in so close you think it’ll hear your heartbeat. For years, I hunted behind gooseberry bushes and had to wait until a tom stepped into the open to shoot. The shots were often close — and always exciting.

No matter how you hunt them — on the ground, swatting ticks, or in a comfortable chair inside a pop-up blind — it’s always exciting. I’ll take the comfort and spend more time in the woods. How can that be a bad thing?