Gobblers with Friends

My 1977 Babe Ruth All-Star Catcher, Ray Novac, and I don’t spend much time together except in late April. We hunt the Eastern wild turkey beginning every third Wednesday in April. With roles reversed, the former coach allows his student to take the lead.

As if he were my son, Ray often calls to check in on how I’m doing. Our shared interests go far beyond hunting. Ray has already hunted for a week in Tennessee. He comes back woodwise and sharp as a tack with his calling technique. The nimrods he hunts with have won turkey calling contest and/or manufacturer their brand of calls. One of his favorites is the Woodhaven slate call. My friend has honed his skills with these ardent gobbler hunters for 22 years. 

To say I lean heavily on Novac’s skills would be an understatement. His mantra has always been. “We have to get you a bird first.” At least three times, I’ve harvested a tom shooting across Ray’s lap with his encouragement.

We hunt 200-plus acres in the hills of Owen County. The property has a huntable population of turkeys, but not enough that you can afford to miss. The annual harvest for the entire county is only about 200.

Ray and I, my Brother-in-Law Gary Cloud, and his brother Carl usually account for four of those. The Clouds own 40 acres in western Owen County. Ray and I hunt east of Spencer. The properties are 25 miles and two worlds apart. They must be hunted differently.

Ray and I arrived Tuesday evening to do what we always do – set up his camo ground blind, each year, in the same spot. We check for activity in a dusting area and locate our blind along the edge of the opening.

Before daylight the next morning, we were in the woods blowing on an owl call. The intent was to elicit a gobble from nearby toms on the roost. Last year, there was no response. Wednesday morning, three birds answered from the neighbor’s property, and one from across the field from the blind.

A quick decision had to be made. The three were 200 yards from where we stood. Ray would have to sweet-talk them that distance, plus get them to cross a fence. He’s good, but is he that good? Might he be competing with other hens located much closer to the gobblers? The lone male turkey calling from our property was over 300 yards away.

Through the years, we’ve learned to trust the dusting area when in doubt. Ray zipped the blind flap behind us at first light. His new blind is like a two-way mirror with no blind spots.

I leaned back in a comfortable camp chair and listened to the lurid sounds Ray was creating on his slate call. The lone gobbler responded, as did the others. We enjoyed a chorus of six to eight tom turkeys in the distance. Not all were responding to us. At 7:20 am, a sharp elbow got my attention. “See that knoll beyond the end of the field? There is a gobbler at 270 yards (range finder) looking at our hen decoys,” Ray whispered.

The turkey ducked into the woods but soon reappeared and gobbled once. He was taking his time, but the decoys and Ray’s skilled calling had him on his way, and I was excited. With my gun shouldered, Ray kept whispering the yardage. “He’s at 29 yards, take him.” I waited until the big bird exposed his head and squeezed the trigger. Fist bumps and high fives were in order. It was 7:55 am. 

We waited five minutes, then went to retrieve my prize. Ray said, “Kneel at that log and I’ll take some photos with the woods in the background.” Before I could get into position, many gobbles came from no more than 60 yards into the woods. Hurriedly, we retreated to the blind.  

No more than three minutes passed, and the three toms we had heard earlier appeared. They could now see the decoys and passed within 15 yards of the blind. The lead gobbler was the largest. Ray took him out with his Tri Star .410-gauge turkey gun. It was 8:13 am. Our hunt was over. Ray Novac did what some might think impossible. He called in four gobblers from 400 yards in opposite directions. Those last three birds came within a hair of busting us.

The Cloud brothers got their birds in the rain on Friday.