I am breaking at least three Bro Rules doing this, but I gotta tell this one on someone that lurks in here from time to time but does not post. We'll call him, uh, let's see...oh! Wee Willy! *snicker*
Me and Wee Willy (WW from here out) went turkey hunting. I was not feeling particularly good about my archery accuracy, so i loaded the dbl bbl 10 ga. black powder caplock and he packed up his bow. WW had been practicing all winter on a second hand foam turkey target. He practiced from every angle, sitting against a tree, kneeling, standing, to the left, to the right, uphill and down. He was getting amazingly good with his first self bow, Old Mexican Propeller.
I get him right up under the roost, no more than 30 yds from the main tree, and we are there at least 45 minutes before legal shooting hours. Not a peep outa the birds, not a one knows we are here. At dawn they start to pitch down out of the trees, about 20 hens and 5 mature gobblers. They move uphill to us and we are literally surrounded by birds in high strut! We got gobblers double and triple gobbling, hens on all sides purring their hearts out. Finally they start up the hill to the left on the single track trail. The last bird to go is the largest gobbler of the bunch, hooked spurs and a paintbrush for a beard. He is in full strut and as he goes past WW he leaves himself wide open to being nailed.
WW slowly brings up his bow arm and being right handed, this is a perfect set up for him as the birds move to the left. The gobbler is at 10 yds, full strut, every tailfeather is pointing at the point of aim....his butt, heart of the vitals. WW hits full draw and I am slowly letting out my breath getting ready to take a giant lungful of fresh mountain air so I can yell my congratulations. He hits anchor and his fingers relax that half a degree that allows the string to slip away. His hand never leaves anchor, his bow arm does not waver, but the string catches his heavy camo jacket somewhere up near the left collar and slowly scrapes itself down the heavy sleeve to his wrist. The encoumbered arrow lobs out at least 5, maybe 6 ft where the point makes a tiny puff of dust as it hits the ground moving slightly faster than a caterpillar with fallen arches.
The gobbler hears this odd sound and folds his fan, looking back over his shoulder. WW is frozen, not even an eyeblink as he chants under his breath, "I am a tree, I am a rock, I am a bush, I am nothing dangerous to turkeys." Time stands still. Then a soft hen yelp and BAM! the fan is wide open as the trophy bird double gobbles in response...BUT STILL STANDS THERE UNMOVING!!!
I whisper, "Nock another arrow now, he can't see you". To which, WW quietly whispers, "Only brought the one."
It wasn't until we were back to the vehicle when I remembered I was packing the double 10 loaded for grizz.
