Staring Gobblers

Anyone that knows me will tell you that I get pumped up when I talk about bowhunting turkeys. I've bowhunting for 24 years and nothing is more challenging than a turkey. They must have eyes in the back of their heads. I have barely blinked and turkeys have picked it up--when they were looking the other way. It is important to move slowly. If you feel you're moving slow enough, I'll tell you to move slower. You can never underestimate a Wild Turkeys eyesight. I love to bowhunt this wild and elusive bird.
Opening morning of the 1994 archery season was slow at my deer lease in Texas. I decided to hunt a stand that I call "The River Stand." This stand location has a river on one side and a hill covered with thick mesquite bush on the other. I've tagged quite a few deer from this stand. The area is also frequented by turkeys. (I've tagged a handful of them there, too.) I got in my stand about four o'clock. Something happened right away that I didn't think much about at the time. I use a hip quiver. When I hitched it to the tree an arrow slipped loose and clanked through the branches below. It hung up several feet below me.
I wasn't worried. I had three more arrows. Today, I can't help wondering what the afternoon hunt would have been like--had I not dropped that arrow. After an uneventful hour, I heard some turkeys behind me, purring like crazy. It got louder, fast and a flock of turkeys walked directly under my stand. The flock consisted of hens and small Jakes. Hens are not legal in Texas and I wanted to let the Jakes grow up. I admired the birds and got a kick out of an old hen that ran the show. When she stopped they all stopped, etc. After a while she got in a hurry to go some where and they all followed.
At six o'clock I hadn't seen a deer, which was unusual for this stand. The only thing I could figure was it was too hot. If I was going to see any, it would be just before dark. As I mentally prepared my self for the wait, I noticed some movement in the Mesquites. I did a double take, just to be sure I wasn't going crazy. Six big, mature Toms were in the Mesquite bush.
This was too good to be true. It looked like an opportunity could develop. Every bird had a long beard. I didn't want to blow it. As usual, they were extra cautious as they approached my area. My heart started triple beating. I calmed down and pretty soon they were thirty yards out. I studied all six Toms, because I wanted a shot at the largest. All their beards were about the same length. But one gobbler beards was thicker than the others. Suddenly they turned and walked right toward me. My heart started triple-triple beating.
The moment of truth was on me. I had to have a little talk with myself and say "hey, cool out a little." The birds passed me at ten yards. In slow motion--and I mean slow, because when you draw is when you get caught--I inched my High Country Royal Hunter toward shooting position. I estimated the big guy at fifteen yards. Finally I got to full draw and picked my spot. I sent the Thunderhead 160 on its way. The hit was perfect and the Gobbler dropped on the spot. All the other Toms should have ran out of there in a hurry. But they didn't.
Instead, they stared anxiously at the turkey laying on the ground by them. Their antics seemed to ask, "What is your problem?" While they stared, I knocked another arrow.--once again moving as slowly as possible. Finally, I got to full draw and picked out one of the other big Toms, aimed and released.
A clean miss. Three of the gobblers got right out of there. But the other two stopped. They looked back anxiously and decided to return to stare at their comrade again. I couldn't believe what I saw. But I didn't try analyzing it. I just got another arrow knocked. One was in the thick brush. I couldn't risk a shot at him. The other gobbler walked into the clear. He looked to be twenty-five yards. A nice shot. I inched my bow to full draw. I aimed carefully and released my third arrow. It was a slam dunk hit. He dropped like a stone. I had two mature gobblers on the ground. The remaining gobbler came out of the cover and looked at my two gobblers. Incredible. I stared down at my last arrow, caught in the branches below me. Could I have shot three Gobblers? They were legal in my county. But I will never know. I lowered my bow and started down the tree. This time that bird got out of there quick.
I was pumped. I rushed to my Gobblers. They were both extremely dark, almost black. They sported long, 10-inch plus, thick beards. This was my strangest turkey hunting experience. Turkeys don't stick around when messed with. When the first bird hit the ground, it apparently dumbfounded the other birds. They certainly never realized I was the cause of the problem,or they would have flown the coupe.
When I arrived at camp everyone was inside the camp trailer. I laid the two Toms on my hood and went to the door. "Hey," I said, "I need help. There is something wrong with my hood." My friend Don asked if he should bring his tool box. I couldn't help myself. I said yes!

Author Notes: This was a fair chase hunt, during a 3 turkey season, on my deer lease in Coryell county in Texas. My camouflage was Sticks N' Limbs. The bow was a High Country Royal Hunter and I used a Thunderhead 160 broadhead.

Rick Philippi