840 
FOREST AND STREAM 
(Photo Courtesy Geo. Mchhenny ) 
I Just Glimpsed Two Turkeys Away Across the Open Woods. 
bird. Fanny now made a fine point just over a 
fallen tree in a quite open bunch of young pines 
and I tried to give Frank the shot, but waiting 
a half second too long a pine cut him off and I 
scored another bird—a good long shot as I had 
waited for him until I knew something was amiss 
and blazed away. Seventy steps to where we 
picked up the bird. After flushing a single and 
missing, we crossed the little branch and failed 
to locate two we had seen fly that way and then 
hunting the intervening open piney woods we 
crossed Rattlesnake branch and by being too 
eager or the wind too strong Fanny flushed a 
covey we had known to use thereabouts and so 
we only marked down a single bird, the others 
flying away from us and behind the thicket. 
Going around outside the thick undergrowth 
to join Frank where we judged the other birds 
to-be, I just glimpsed two turkeys away across 
the open woods making for the branch, prob¬ 
ably 200 yards distant and close below the road. 
Calling quickly to Frank, he struck after the 
birds, taking the dog, while T ran as fast as a 
big dinner and sixty years would permit, for the 
far side of the branch to locate the birds should 
the dog flush them. 
I did not know the lay of the land, as I had 
thought, and struck the branch too low down 
and saw nothing more of Frank and the dog 
until I was ready to go home two hours later* 
Frank’s story relates that the dog took the trail 
at once and before he caught up she had flushed 
the birds and he missed seeing them. He soon 
after heard a turkey “call” but having rather 
poor hearing failed to locate it, tied up the dog 
and hurried back to where he expected to find 
me, whistling repeatedly. Returning to the dog 
and not seeing me, he took the west side of 
Rattlesnake branch for a quarter of a mile, 
crossed the branch and went up an east prong 
of the same for another quarter, working as 
carefully as possible. 
Again Fanny flushed turkeys. This time he 
saw two birds, one at long range, the other took 
to a tree and by careful stalking he knocked it 
out dead at sixty yards and started for home. 
My yarn unwinds as follows: After waiting 
a half hour or more at my stand, hoping against 
hope that a bird might come back my way, and 
give me a wing shot or settle in one of the big 
pines I had selected for it, I decided Frank had 
either gone on above or returned down the other 
side of the branch and that my best chance was 
to go it alone. Passing up Rattlesnake I saw 
how I had erred in taking a stand too far down 
and for the next quarter mile I traveled unwit¬ 
tingly the ground over which Frank had recently 
hunted, but I went on further before entering 
the thick timber along the branch and worked 
along up stream carefully examining all big 
pines and bays. 
I finally went out into the open piney woods 
on the east side of the branch an eighth of a 
mile or more above where the east prong joins 
the main branch proper, and as it proved not 
over three hundred yards from where Frank 
was hunting. I had not taken over twenty steps 
into the open when I saw a turkey fly up into a 
small pine sapling and another on the ground 
calling briskly; then down flew the bird from 
the tree and both seemed to “put” at a great 
rate and again a bird flew up into another sap¬ 
ling and they were headed directly my way. Of 
course I was not standing all this while but had 
dropped into the high grass at sight of the bird. 
Now I make no claim of being a turkey hunter 
—can’t call them, and don’t often get one lo¬ 
cated in a tree—but I thought, “Surely this is 
the old man’s chance.” For several weeks we 
had repeatedly been advised of a big bunch of 
these birds “Up Rattlesnake branch” and from 
the many loud “putts” and the flying about I 
felt sure I had the entire flock in front of me; 
fourteen was the last count we had received, and 
I was figuring on a double or possibly two at 
one crack. Now, I was close down by a pine 
and some low gall-berry bushes for a blind. I 
feared to raise up but I could hear the many 
loud calls continued and felt sure they were still 
coming on my way. 
Suddenly all was quiet; that was suspicious; 
could they have seen me? I thought not. My 
old brown hat surely blended well with pine 
straw and brown leaves and I had not moved. 
I waited five minutes, ten or more it seemed, and 
then slowly peered through the bushes, carefully 
trying to avoid any quick movement. Presently 
I espied two birds distant perhaps 150 yards, one 
up on a fallen log, the other close by, both with 
heads well up and alert. While still watching 
them I heard a voice close behind me say, “'What 
you doing here?” and there stood Ben, another 
of Frank’s brothers, who was out for an after 
dinner stroll without a gun and had happened 
onto me. I quickly got him under cover and ex¬ 
plained the situation and to my surprise found 
the two birds about as before. 
Ben is also an expert at turkey calling but 
failed to get a response that time. We dared 
not look out again and after waiting perhaps 
ten minutes Ben crawled to the branch, advising 
me to come on and try to stalk the birds from 
the rear, as they would be sure to go back to the 
river swamp to roost. I, however, decided to 
take my chances right there. I knew I was a 
poor hunter of turkeys, if they came to me I 
believed I could get them and so waited on. Now 
I failed to see the birds after again waiting and 
then looking out and soon thought I could just 
hear a faint calling from the branch lower down, 
so I crawled to the thick timber and selecting r 
blind behind some low scrub palmettos stood 
up and waited. 
Tom had often advised me to keep down while 
watching, but I concluded I would never be able 
to see these birds unless I was up and from my 
stand could see well across the branch, as well 
as out into the open woods. Soon I heard clear 
and repeated calling and had I been able to call 
no doubt might have enticed them right up to 
me. It seemed scarcely a gunshot distant to the 
birds but just out of sight in some thick bushes. 
Surely one would show a head and give me a 
shot! Again a good long silence. Too long, I 
thought, and my nerves were getting on edge. 
Then well out in the open piney woods among 
the tall broom-grass I heard two or three dis¬ 
tinct “putts” and after two or three minutes of 
racking waiting I saw a head, neck and breast 
high up in the grass and far through the sap¬ 
lings almost abreast of me. 
I knew it to be a long shot and thought it my 
only chance, for I surely would not be able to 
crawl through the thicket and get in ahead of 
them. Carefully I brought up my gun but down 
went the head, while I guess my heart jumped 
two or three extra beats as I waited and then up 
came a head and neck just ahead of where I 
had seen it. My gun was already up and I 
aimed just where the neck appeared to join the 
wings and at crack of gun a fine big bird went 
sailing off amongst the saplings and on down 
and high over the branch out of sight. I waited 
for another bird to show up, never moving—only 
reloading—but not a feather stirred. 
It looked like a sorry ending of a rare good 
time, for I had immensely enjoyed the whole 
hunt and thought I might expect a better climax. 
However, I was no novice in missing long shots 
and not one to lament, but where was that other 
turkey? The grass was high and it might sneak 
off but why not fly with the other bird? And I 
