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Illustration Ryan Kirby
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That last
10 seconds
by Tom Kelly
There is no question we make our most telling mistakes in dealing with turkeys during the last 10 seconds before the trigger is pulled. We may have done everything right from the time we got up until the time the turkey comes in range, and we're at the point where all there is left to do is pull the trigger and pick him up.
But none of those early moves matter because they are all behind us. It is generally right at the last moments, when all we need to do is shoot, that we commit one of those outrageously boneheaded acts that enable us to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory.
The excitement peaks at the 50-yard line, and the principle thing we need to do in those last few seconds is shut our heads off. In the language of the business world, "the sale has been made and now it is time to shut up and write the order."
Nervous tension is at its peak, and for some reason that causes many people to succumb to the tendency of trying to improve upon success. Their minds race in several directions simultaneously, and they seem driven to take out the brush again and give the lily one more coat of gilt.
They make that one last wiggle to get the gun into a slightly improved position. The turkey is coming at the 10 o'clock point on the clock face, and they try to improve things so as to put him at the 11 o'clock mark.
They insist upon making one more yelp with the diaphragm to make him stop and stretch his neck up, which is theoretically done to expose the target zone.
The target zone on a bird is his head and the 10 inches of neck just below it. It is the same size no matter which way he holds his head, and a shot pellet or two in that area does the job, no matter which direction this head is facing or how far his neck had or had not been stretched when the trigger is pulled.
I have heard nearly all of my hunting life that it is not proper to shoot a turkey in the act of strutting because you cannot see the target zone. The size of the lethal area does not change just because the turkey's head and neck are retracted. Even if it is pulled back into the feathers it remains the same size it has always been. And while shooting him while he is in this state may be inartistic and leave shot pellets in the breast, you simply have to make up your mind. Would you rather be successfully inartistic or go home artistically empty handed?
Those last few yards are the most critical of all and are the time when absolute immobility is paramount.
The turkey knows he is at the point from which the initial sound emanated. He gobbled to trigger a response, he got one, and as far as he is concerned a proper response would be for the hen to appear on the ground under his tree 30 seconds after he gobbled. It may seem a little unusual for her to yelp a second time, rather than come at a run, but there could be another turkey involved. Something may have attracted her attention, or she could have simply gone off in a different direction.
If he chooses to go part way to see what is going on, at about the 50-yard mark, he knows he is close enough to see the hen that did the initial yelping — and nothing is there. This, in itself, is suspicious enough, but if at this point, he hears another yelp from the same place, or detects the slightest un-hen-like motion, he throws in his hand.
Artistic purity is easier than posing with dead turkeys but not nearly as photogenic.
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