The little guy put down a nice one last week. During the mid week warm up the birds at home finally started going crazy on the roost. Thursday night I got pretty close to where we had been hearing them the two days prior. A few owl hoots, and nothing. A few more, and still nothing. I was contemplating strategies while standing there in disbelief when finally, one single gobble rang out.
Friday morning we were a little late getting going. I step outside on the porch, and hear them going of already. I run back into the house, and try my hardest to hurry the tired 7 year old along. Heres where it gets fun. We have a half mile to cover, we had gotten almost an inch of rain, so though the hay field, and then across the plowed field we go. Once we got to the fence line, we picked a spot in the little cover thats available. A few calls later he’s on his way, and he’s gobbling hard the entire 3 minutes he’s on the ground. He comes over a rock pile and across the property line. Game on I thought. Then he spots us, and starts to take off. In a split second, without any prompting, Little Bossman fires a load of 7’s at him, and he’s down for the count.
Turns out I have pictures of this bird from 3 years ago on the feeder. We have a strain in our local flock that puts a little extra color markings into the tail fan. The bird scored out just a little behind his DB Osceola from last year and is a pretty impressive beast. Beard 11.5, Right spur 1.25, left spur 1.125, and a hefty 23# 12 oz.
The worst part of his morning, and his incredibly short season was shortly after I had walked back to the house to grab the wheeler. As we were heading back to the house his bus drove by. All of a sudden he say’s “does this mean I have to go to school today?”
CW
