Mike Giles closed out the gobbler season with a fine bird. The tom had a 10 inch beard and weighed 23 plus pounds. It sported one inch spurs. He called up a hen, four jakes and the Big Daddy on that hunt.

With the final days of turkey season dwindling down I decided to try my hand at an old bird that had eluded all comers. Before tangling with the old gobbler I had to scout the area and pinpoint his location, so I was up at dawn and in the woods before the sun peaked over the horizon. As the eastern sky started to lighten a group of owls started up and were instantly cut off by the King of the Woods. I listened carefully and mentally marked his location, intent on returning the next morning ready for battle. By the sounds of his frequent gobbles he was still revved up and shouldn’t have been hard to find the next morning.

    Early the next morning I was seated at the base of an old oak tree well before sunup in anticipation of the bird’s first gobble of the day. If I was correct in my scouting assessment, I would only have to move a short distance. If not, I’d get up and move to a better set up location as needed.

    The sound of a lonesome whippoorwill was the only sound heard before daylight. Eventually the whippoorwills were drowned out by the constant barrage of owls engaging in their own spring courting and mating rituals as they belted out owl hoots.

    Strangely, not a gobbler was to be heard anywhere, but it was still early. Shortly after the crack of dawn crows flew overhead creating a raucous noise that was sure to spur a response from any gobbler within hearing distance. Alas, not even a peep from a young tom or jake was heard. Five forty-five came and went with nary a gobble.

More silence

   

    At 6 a.m. I knew something was up as I still had not heard a bird. Yes there was a slight chill in the air, with cloudy skies and storm clouds further west but that shouldn’t have shut the birds down. Finally at 6:05 I pulled out my crow call and blew three short caws.

    Gobble! To my surprise the old bird shock gobbled to my crow call when he hadn’t responded to owls, crows or anything else. The only problem was that he was so close to me that I was afraid to move for fear that he might see me. If I called too loudly, or if he knew my location and didn’t see a hen, my day would be done, and this was my one and only chance at this bird.

    So I waited, and waited, but still heard not a peep. At 6:15 a crane flew over and sent out a raspy call. Instantly the old tom screamed out a gobble that made the hair on my neck stand up. And then there was silence.

    At 6:35 I heard a couple of turkeys fly down. Still leery of blowing my cover I knew the time was at hand.

    Picking up my custom made Albert Paul Signature Box Call I sent out a series of clucks followed by a few purrs and shut up. I was met by silence. Obviously the old bird had been schooled by the other hunters as I heard nary a peep.

    Ten minutes went by before I caught sight of movement to my left. A hen was coming my way clucking softly all the while. Another bird followed closely behind. First one jake and then another. At a distance of 25 yards they stopped and looked dead in my direction searching for the hen that had sent out the sweet come hither calls a while earlier.

Stern arrival

    Suddenly a mature gobbler with a solid white head came charging in and busted up between the jakes and hen right in front of me. He was fired up and not in the mood for any other suitors on this day. As the coal black monarch pirouetted in front of me and turned his fantail directly toward me I took a finer bead and waited for the right moment.

    In a flash the bird spun half around and I squeezed the trigger of my old faithful Remington .870 Special Purpose Turkey gun and the shotgun roared. Before the sound had even subsided the gobbler collapsed in a heap and turkeys took to the air in all directions. Unbeknownst to me I had called up the whole flock with the help of my Albert Paul box call.

    I don’t mind saying that I’m from the old school when it comes to harvesting gobblers. Quality over quantity is what I believe when hunting in high pressured areas at the end of a long spring mating season. Less is more!

    For the sixth time in the last couple of weeks of the season I had called in a trophy gobbler with my Albert Paul box by calling only once or twice. Albert Paul obviously knows a thing or two about making and tuning box calls because his box calls are the best I have ever used when calling battle-weary gobblers. My last day bird topped out my limit and weighed over 23 pounds, to go with one inch spurs and a 10 inch beard. With Albert Paul one call, that’s all!

    Contact  Mike Giles at 601-917-3898

or e-mail him at Giles1958@bellsouth.net