I had the gobbler pegged. After many days of scouting leading up to the 2019 spring wild turkey season opener, I knew where he was roosting. I had followed the long beard and his harem as they moved around the ridge for weeks. They were consistently making the rounds through the same patches of woods and ending up for the day at the same spot at the inside edge of the big corn field’s wood line. A couple of times I was close enough to see the fly up with binoculars. I had the roosting spot nailed down; now came the decision on how to capitalize on that.
I studied the lay of the land, noting where the small knolls in the field could provide concealment. I checked the sun’s arc throughout the day to determine the best blind location, giving me the advantage of the sun in the bird’s eyes as he approached me and my decoy set.
On the night before opening day, I crept several hundred yards under the cover of darkness into the field from the opposite side. Behind a low rise, I popped my blind and prepped and stowed my decoys inside. As I drove back to camp, I felt good about what the next day would bring. After all, I had put in the work and was well prepared. I had a solid plan, a good spot and a known roost. But as they used to say in my old unit, the best laid plans rarely survive first contact.
When my alarm rang, I surprised myself by rolling out of the rack within a reasonably quick time frame. It’s been awhile since deer season and getting back into the hunting rhythm usually starts for me with spring turkey. After filling my thermos with fresh coffee and grabbing my lunch, I was out the door and headed to my blind well before sun up. When I reached my spot, I set the decoys and zipped myself inside my blind, did a quick check and got my calls and gear situated. Everything was in place. I checked my watch; it was 30 minutes until first light.
The first gray light of morning found me scanning the far wood line just north of where the gobbler was roosting. If my plan went well, I’d draw the gobbler over the small hill in the field where he would make contact with my decoy set and further back, the business end of my shotgun.
I made some tentative calls on my slate, careful not to let my excitement translate into over calling. Within 15 minutes, a dark shape, low to the ground, moved out of the wood line into the field directly to my front. I estimated it to be about 100 yards – too close to start a new calling sequence for my liking. I’m an average caller and I didn’t want to risk an errant strike on the slate with a bird that close. I figured the gobbler saw my decoys and was heading right to me. I waited.
The dark shape kept coming, slowly but surely. I noticed it was getting lighter outside, so I decided to get a better look. I glassed the object through the mesh window in the blind from about 80 yards. That was the precise moment my well laid plans went up in smoke; and not from the end of my muzzle.
First contact materialized as a 200 lb. class Maine black bear – now 60 yards to my front. I watched the bear paw the field for leftover corn and amble around without a care in the world. More than once I watched it drop to the ground and roll around, scratching it’s back and no doubt enjoying the crisp spring morning just as I was.
After nearly an hour had passed, I decided enough was enough. The bear had made its way to about 50 yards from my blind. That was close enough and surely my gobbler wasn’t coming anywhere near me now. I let out a sniff. The bear looked my way then turned and loped back towards the northwest corner of the field.
I never got that gobbler, but that’s okay by me. There really is more to hunting than the killing and I felt fortunate to experience it for the better part of an hour on that beautiful, crisp spring morning.