Samson the Strutter


elnor

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The Eastern from the story below is my entry in this year's Realtree Turkey Contest for Team #5 Spur Slingers. Click on either of the pictures for a bigger image.

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* Killed 9 April 2010 12:35PM in southeastern Oklahoma

* 9 1/4 inch beard

* 3/4 inch left spur, 11/16 inch right spur

* 17 lbs 4 oz

* NWTF score 50.125

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1flcd1.jpg

Read the full story below. Another picture showing where he fell after the text.

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My father killed two toms out of his field blind on opening morning, and though I'd heard gobbling each day and made several attempts to get in close on a bird the first three days of the season, so far nothing had quite worked out for me.

Day four dawned with me in heavily wooded foothills stalking up on a gobbler. He gobbled his head off from a big tree on an east-west ridge above the creek bottom. As I crossed the creek and began creeping closer, I could tell he had flown down. Things just got more complicated. A few tense minutes later I had slowly moved up the rise and was peering as best I could over the crest. I saw him about the time he saw me, but unfortunately his reflexes won: He dropped his head where I couldn't see it to shoot, got a running start, and then flew away to the east before I could change position to get a shot. A day that begins with that kind of frustration before 7AM requires real persistence to turn around.

After failing to get a shot by maybe 1/2 second in the early morning, I moved back north of the creek and took up a position at the "strutting trees" in the big field my father had found luck in three days earlier. From there I could survey quite a bit of the landscape, and if any toms came out into the field to display, I had a reasonable chance that they'd pass within shooting range. I sat and I sat, hoping and waiting. Gobbling was scarce after sunrise time. I did see a lone hen slowly feeding her way westward in the adjacent meadow, up against the treeline, but other than that, no turkeys in sight.

Several hours passed. My parents were hunting in a blind at the far west end of the field, and my father texted me to say he was going to go check some trail cameras in the woods. I continued to wait. About 11:30 I noticed a hen in the distance, in the Samson clearing across the small branch creek running the length of the field. As I glassed I suddenly saw a strutter appear to her right, then move back out of sight. Game on!

I sent a message to my mother and father to let them know there was at least one hen and a tom and that they should stay hidden. Over the next few minutes I saw two, then three, then four hens. Tom made another appearance strutting. I was excited but there was a problem: The turkeys were several hundred yards away and it didn't appear they were going to cross the branch into the field where I was.

Just about the time I was considering the possibility of a stalk, my mother sent me a text message saying I could stalk them if I wanted to. I thought about it a short while and decided to give it a go; it was an aggressive tactic, but my wife was 37+ weeks pregnant and liable to go into labor at any time, so I needed to be aggressive each day of this year's season if I was to have the best chance of filling one or more turkey tags.

I texted my parents that I'd stalk using the branch creek for cover, then got up, leaving my turkey vest and some other gear behind to save weight and reduce the number of things I was carrying that could snag on all the nasty briars along the branch. I made it about two thirds of the way to the clearing by holding tight to my side of the branch.

Unfortunately at that point I saw that one of the hens had crossed the branch and was now walking in the middle of the field on my side, so I moved into the dense creek cover for the rest of the stalk. This slowed my progress substantially...let's just say that briars, downed timber, mud, and deep water are no fun to be moving through. I figured the hen would hear or see me at any point, but I kept slowly moving ahead and eventually made it to the clearing edge undetected by her.

As I slowly moved up out of the branch, I worked along a small line of trees to peek out the first break. When I eased out, I saw a hen walking away from me about sixty yards away, and the strutter at fifty yards parading in full strut for her. Yes!

I already had my gun shouldered. I aimed. He dropped out of strut and extended his neck to size me up.

Blam!

A load of number fives hit him hard and down he went. I rushed over to make sure he didn't hop up after flopping. He was finished and I had my first gobbler for 2010!

Persistence, and the willingness to attempt another stalk when one had failed earlier that same day, paid off. I had Samson the Strutter in hand and no matter when Baby came, I knew my 2010 Oklahoma turkey season was a success.

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The clearing where he fell:

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