Was this turkey hunt a washout?

By By Otha Barham / outdoors editor
May 7, 2004
The last day of Mississippi's spring turkey season saw storm clouds gather and the skies empty torrents of much needed rain hereabouts. Alternatives were quickly found for weekend plans. Ball games were canceled and backyard barbeques were rescheduled. One outdoor wedding was pulled off as planned, but the reception moved inside to escape a downpour.
Gobbler hunters who had not bagged a limit of three birds lamented the stormy day which followed weeks of clear, sunny mornings that had amorous toms gobbling themselves silly.
Some hunters took to the woods anyway, and a few scored. But many saw their last chance washed away while alternately checking the Weather Channel and the conditions outside their windows.
That afternoon, Ben McDonald told his brother, Andy, "We might as well go out and try to make one gobble." The 19-year-old hunter had worked several toms near his home in Neshoba County, having already bagged a fine one earlier in the season. There were others that had eluded him. He wanted his younger brother to get his first gobbler, and he couldn't just watch the last hours of the season slip away.
Quick answer
When the two neared a large field, Ben made some yelps on his box call. A gobble sounded right back. The pulse rate of the two young hunters stepped up as storm clouds swirled overhead. The pair set up and Ben began calling to the anxious gobbler and got enthusiastic responses.
As they worked the bird, another gobbler cranked up nearby in a deep hollow. This interloper sounded closer and was talking serious lust. Ben and Andy, with an eye toward gathering rain clouds, decided to go for the closest turkey. They moved to the top of a ridge that dropped off to where the amorous gobbler was talking. "Every time I would call that gobbler would answer," said Ben. "And he would gobble every time we took a step in the leaves." (Excited gobblers often mistake a person's footfalls for those of an approaching hen.)
The first gobbler would also sound off as the intruding tom answered Ben's calls. Suddenly a third gobbler joined in and the woods were fairly ringing with the wild calls, as Ben's yelps and cutts stirred the madness. "The one in the hollow would gobble every time I called or when the first bird gobbled, and he continued to gobble as we took each step to find a setup place," Ben said. "Even if we broke a stick he would gobble."
Lightning flashed nearby and when the thunder rolled, the anxious bird gobbled. In the understated thought of the day Ben said to himself, " We ought to get one of these birds."
The hunters had flushed a hen turkey off her nest as they entered the woods. They had caught the gobblers alone and lonely as all of their hen friends had apparently withdrawn to set eggs.
The setup
Ben stationed himself 20 yards or so behind Andy, hoping to call the bird into range for his brother before the nearby lightning and rain closed in. His calls brought the hot monarch closer just as the rain began to fall. A deluge followed quickly, but the bird continued to gobble as Ben called.
Lightning crashed like gunfire, time and again, getting closer by the seconds. Sheets of rain soaked the woods, the hunters and the gobblers. But the bird kept on gobbling. In mere minutes the storm's intensity caused Ben to decide that the danger from lightning was too much to gamble for this last chance gobbler.
The two hunters reluctantly left for home, soaked to the bone, their ears still ringing with the impassioned screams of some of the world's wildest creatures.
Few citizens in these parts experienced the thrills that Saturday afternoon that equaled Ben and Andy McDonald's exciting hunt. Bagging a big tom turkey may seem to many to be the measure of success for turkey hunters. But these two know the truth; it's all about the hunt.