You don’t shoot turkeys in the air, right?

By John Trussell

I learned many years ago that gobblers rarely act in predictable ways. I got one of my first lessons on gobbler fickleness in Hancock County about 20 years ago, while hunting with Larry Ross of Perry.

We had hunted since before sun up and Larry had used his most seductive hen calls for several hours setting up in many locations, but nary a gobbler seemed interested. We finally decided at about 11:00 a.m. to drive around and check out several hundred acres of cow pasture. We had hardly warmed up the truck when we spotted a mixed flock of 20 or so turkeys, peacefully feeding out in the middle of a field, approximately 75 yards out from the wood line.

We parked the truck and hidden by the woods, carefully eased up to the turkeys. Larry tried calling, but the gobblers were content with their harem and paid us no attention. With the turkeys comfortably out of range, I was one frustrated turkey hunter! But Larry and I would not give up.

He kept calling, which at least distracted the turkeys and kept them in place  Meanwhile I noticed a shallow ditch, which ran out into the field and I decided to put the “sneak attack” on the gobblers. I crawled out and managed to close the distance to about 40 yards. Finally, I lowered the hammer on a nice gobbler. However, upon the loud boom of the shotgun, the flock of turkeys flushed into the air and a couple of mature gobblers flew over my head. But you don’t shoot gobblers in the air, right? I watched as they flew on into the woods, pretty happy with my one gobbler on the ground.

The author with one of his turkeys that didn’t fly away. Photo courtesy of John Trussell.

A few years later, Ed Varner, a Warner Robins attorney and beginning turkey hunter, invited me to hunt with him in Macon County. At dawn we set up in a clear cut, known to hold some turkeys. I called and immediately we heard a gobbler about 150 yards away near a creek bottom. As the sun peaked over the horizon, we could easily make out the gobbler’s profile against the sky line as he sounded off. It was a wonderful sight to behold as the gobbler lustily responded to every call I made. He was ready for action. But then came the real hens to complicate the situation. They glided out of some nearby trees and landed behind us on a hill. The hens were quiet, but we believed the gobbler saw them depart and he still responded to my soft calls.

Just as we were wondering how the gobbler would move, he jumped off the limb and headed straight in our direction. This was turkey hunting at its best and I could feel the hairs on my neck tensing up. The gobbler was flapping his wings and gliding toward our location, where we were hiding in some tree limbs on the ground. We watched in awe as the gobbler soared over our heads at no more than 15 feet high. If we had stood up, we probably could have swung a long stick and knocked him out of the air. Easier still, we could have fired on the incoming bird and our hunt would have been over. But you don’t shoot gobblers out of the sky, right?

The gobbler was flapping his wings and gliding toward our location… Photo by Jimmy Jacobs

That was a decision I questioned as the bird glided well past our location and out of sight on the hill behind us. Would we get another chance at the huge gobbler? Only time and luck would tell the story.

Ed and I figured the gobbler was trying to rendezvous with the hens. We only heard a few hen calls and maybe one gobble for the next 45 minutes, then all was quiet for the longest time. The situation seemed doubtful. But then we spotted a hen easing out of the area, but no gobbler was in tow – or was he? Thirty minutes later we had seen nothing and my calls drew no response, but we sat tight. A true turkey hunter has to be an eternal optimist.

“What was that noise?” I asked Ed. He gave me a quizzical look, but I thought I heard a single “putt” from a strutting gobbler. or was it my imagination? I suggested that he get his shotgun ready and point it at a small opening in the bushes, where we had earlier seen the hen. Like magic, the huge gobbler strutted into view at a range of 44 yards and Ed rolled him twice with blasts of magnum No. 5 shot. This was Ed’s first gobbler and he was one happy hunter. I was nearly as excited as him, as I was delighted to have shared in the experience.

Later another flying turkey entered my hunting life in Crawford County. I heard the gobbler sounding off just after I exited my truck, so I did not attempt to reveal my location by calling. I eased to within a hundred yards through some thick woods and soon heard a group of hens fly off the roost and land about 100 yards on the other side of where I expected the gobbler to be.

Luckily for me, the gobbler was glued tight to a tree limb and was in no rush to leave his cozy roosting site. I called softly to the gobbler and he reluctantly called back, while he constantly stretched his neck out trying to locate the hen (me) on the ground. I was fully camouflaged and could see the gobbler high in a pine tree through my 8 x 25 binoculars. To further reassure the gobbler while softly calling, I took a limb and gently scratched the ground, trying to make the feeding sounds of a hen.

The real hens on the ground were getting noisy and I knew I was probably going to lose the battle to them when the gobbler flew down. I decided to gamble. What if I could sneak to within range of the gobbler on the roost? Would I have a better chance of scoring? I knew that getting too aggressive ruins 95 percent of turkey hunts, but I wanted to have a challenge, regardless of the outcome. Continuing to softly call while scratching the ground, I kept the tree canopy between the gobbler and me the best I could while I gently closed the distance. I also crouched down, trying to appear as small as possible.

The gobbler was obviously intrigued because he held on the tree limb. It was full daylight, about 7:45 by this time and I as within 40 yards of the nervous acting gobbler. I knew the moment of truth was at hand. Although I was glad of my good fortune to have eased within killing range, I was not going to shoot him on the tree limb since that was not very sporting.

I decided that if he flew down toward me, I’d try to take him quickly on the ground, but if he flew away, I’d try a flying shot. I didn’t have to wait long. As the gobbler stretched out his neck and crouched down low on the limb, getting ready to spring off the roost, I could tell he was going to fly away from me. Quickly readying my 12-gauge shotgun, I watched as the gobbler leaped into the air. He was only 10 feet from the limb when I pulled the trigger. It was a quick snap shot, but the gobbler folded and crashed through the tree limbs to the ground. It definitely was not a text book turkey hunt, but I finally decided that it was OK to shoot a flying turkey! It can be the toughest way to kill a gobbler, so I can’t really recommend it. However sometimes it just happens. With turkey hunting you just deal with the hand you’re given and hope to play your cards right.

On another turkey hunt, I came up empty during the morning in Macon County, but decided to look around a wheat field about 11:00 am. Through my binoculars, I spied a gobbler’s head bobbing in the middle of the 30-acre field, but then he seemed to disappear! Maybe he was resting, I thought? I decided to put a sneak attack on him.

As I approached the location of the gobbler, I heard or saw nothing and pulled out my hen call and gave a few calls. Immediately the gobbler leaped into the air only about 15 yards away and very quickly was flying away at breakneck speed! Thrusting my shotgun to my shoulder, I took a bead on the turkey and cut loose with a load of No. 6 shot. It slowed him down and the second shot dropped him from the air! Wow, that was an exciting hunt!

I guess shooting flying gobblers runs in my blood. Back in the late 1960s my dad Grady Rufus Trussell, now decease ,shot his first and only turkey on the fly. He was turkey hunting around the woodlands of Clarks Hill Lake, but didn’t hear or see a gobbler. He had later decided to join up with some fishing friends after the hunt and walked with his shotgun down to the shore where the anglers were taking a break on the shoreline

In an extraordinary flash of good luck, opportunity, being prepared and a deadly aim came together. He and his friends saw and heard a gobbler flush from a nearby island where it had been roosting. The gobbler flew right over my father as the bird headed to the mainland. My father had the quick sense to retrieve his shotgun and fire on the passing gobbler. His aim was true and the turkey folded on shoreline, to the astonishment of the gathered anglers!

You never know what to expect when turkey hunting and it’s that unknown element, that exciting climax of the hunt, that keeps us coming back for more Georgia Outdoor Adventures!

John Trussell is a freelance writer making his home in Warner Robins. He is a member of the Georgia Outdoor Writers Association and has been inducted into the GOWA Hunting and Fishing Hall of Fame.