Bow Bird 2008: The Hot Head

Covehnter

By Covehnter
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Covehnter 10-Pointer

Covehnter

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Bow Bird 2008: The Hot Head

The wheels on the Toyota "huntin' buggy" were rollin' like they are so used to doing during the warming months of spring turkey season. With spirits still floating on cloud nine from the events of the morning hunt, we couldnt get caught up in the moment too much because there's not but so much time in turkey season. Poncho had twacked his first turkey with a bow just after daylight, a true legend titled Limpy, and although we still had the smiles streaked across our faces we were searching for another longbeard to push up on stage. Moving 20 miles west of town we were checking our farm fields for an evening strutter to sign up for the show. Acting on a lead from a local, we checked on an isolated tract we had never actually hunted but always had available. Pulling up to the field we were able to spot a lone bird with a red head entering the opposite tree line off the property. With our options limited, we decided to set up on the property line the following morning in hopes he hadnt moved too far in the two hours he had til roost time.

The next morning found Poncho over the camera, me holding the Mathews, and my girlfriend just along for the ride. . . . her second trip to the turkey woods. Old Mother Nature was still working up a beautiful sunrise when our feathered friend decided it wasnt coming quick enough and voiced his disgust with a hefty gobble from the farthest tree line. Poncho and I looked at each other and shrugged our shoulders, we had done all we could do but the bird was still better than 300 yards away. The ole boy started awful early but was pretty consistent in his ways; he sounded lonely. I knew a glimmer of hope still existed as the now approaching daylight revealed none other than Scrappy Jr and his lovely mate posted up on a small rise 11 yards from the Ameristep blind.

As the feathered loud mouth continued to show his eagerness for female company the sky carried on it's duty of brightening the landscape surrounding us. I finally abided to the ole boy's demands and sent out some early morning clucks with a little more volume than normal to make sure it reached the other side of the great expanse. He let us know that the talk made it to his side right away. Since he was falling so deeply in love, i fed him some more of what he liked and it was no time before he was out of the tree and into the field. Although the sun hadnt quite finished pushing the darkness completely out, he was more than willing to stretch his wings and push out his chest on the far side of the field. I carried on with the naughty talk from the diaphram to let him know that his boastfulness had really got this 'girl' on the other side into quite a tizzy. "This is gonna work, he's running" poncho announced while glaring through the view finder of the camcorder. The love struck longbeard had done tied himself up in a knot while so far away and was wasting no more time on the wrong side of the street. He closed the reasonable distance in very little time, halting his gallop only to display his size and accompany it with some healthy drumming.

He was moving in on the deadly pair of fakes quickly and he was beside himself when he noticed what a scene he had waltzed himself into. He came screaming in the last 80 yards to set the story straight with Junior who remained calm and collected as always. The Hot Head measured up the competition face to face like captains of opposing teams at the coin toss. We sat motionless in the blind a mere 11 yards away, now just enjoying a show. I had the Fletcher release on the loop and could have the Copper John pin in place at a moments notice. Ole Hot Head obviously didnt like the cocky attitude of Scrappy so he delivered a swift floggin' that caused Scrappy's left wing to dangle. The sudden racket caused my unexpecting girlfriend to jump which humored us all at the moment. Moving to the other side, the angry boss let Scrappy have it again as i brought the Mathews LX to full draw. As he emerged from behind the tattered fan of the still standing fake he faced us straight on, chest out, wings down, and tail up. I settled the top fiber optic toward the bottom of his beard as he was still on a slight rise and brushed the trigger on the willing release. The Easton Axis shaft plunged forward and struck at center mass as the stopper done it's job and prevented a pass through. I'm sure the ole boy decided it was time to leave this quiet kid alone because that jab sure stung, but he made it only 15 yards from Scrappy Jr's face when the Rocket Hammerhead was too much and he toppled head over heels to a quick expiration. My 2008 bow bird lay stone dead in a pile just 25 yards from the blind and his story was captured on video to be forever relived. The celebration followed, two bow birds in two days, both on video, and both just couldnt stand being intimidated. What a fine spring.

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