Thunder in the Timber: A Morning with a Longbeard
Thunder in the Timber: A Morning with a Longbeard
Songbirds sing their songs and fill the cool air along a timber edge overlooking a fresh, green alfalfa field. Virginia bluebells and spring beauty add dashes of color across the awakening forest floor behind the giant oak tree I rest my back against. A deer works the field in front of me, and I can just start to see velvet knobs poking out of his head.
Then, out of nowhere, Mother Nature flips a switch, and the sound of spring thunder erupts from the cottonwood trees below me in the creek bottom. Of course, I’m not talking about a thunderstorm, but rather tom turkeys belching out their springtime gobbles.
The Sounds of a Promising Hunt
I wait for a while, listening to the toms sound off from their typical roosting spots. I’ve hunted this location many times and have become accustomed to their annual patterns. Some are just across the road in the neighbor’s pasture. Others gobble from the deep timber ridge farther into the farm. Today, I took my chances on the gobbler posted up approximately 100 yards behind me, hoping he follows his ancestors’ same travel route along the field edge to investigate my decoys.
Finally, I hear faint fluttering wings and know the birds have flown down. I give them a minute, then slowly pull out my wooden box call. My dad passed it down to me from his first turkey hunts in the 1980s. With some fresh chalk, it doesn’t take long to mimic the sound of a lonely hen hoping a strutter will come along to show off. I make a few short yelps, and like music to my ears, the tom rips off a thunderous gobble.
Working the Tom
The bird continues to gobble, zigzagging his way around the oak and hickories, assuming the hen he hears will come to him. I let him sound off three or four times before offering another yelp from the box call. My hen decoy stands about twenty yards in front of me. I know the bird just needs to step close enough to the edge to see her, and then it will be game on. But this tom is stubborn, taking his time and not especially eager to rush the field edge. As the sun continues to rise and dry the dew off the alfalfa, I know it’s only a matter of time.
In the distance, I hear scattered gobbles from other birds, likely being worked by other hunters. The tom I’ve been engaged with has gone quiet for nearly ten minutes. While some might start to worry, I’m confident he’s on the move. I pull my face mask down slightly so I can hear better, and sure enough, I catch the sound of light footsteps directly behind me. As they draw closer, I hear drumming. I sit still as a statue, waiting for my peripheral vision to confirm what my ears already know.
Before my eyes can catch up, a loud, thunderous gobble erupts less than thirty yards behind the oak I’m leaning against. Out of the corner of my left eye, bright red, white, and blue colors appear from the timber. Instantly, a black-and-brown silhouette fills the opening as the tom enters full strut and slowly marches toward the hen.
Making it Happen
I place my right hand on my 12-gauge, then carefully bring it to my knee, shouldering the stock and clicking off the safety as the gobbler turns his back to me, dancing for the hen in front of him. I let him close the distance, my heart pounding harder with every step. When the moment feels right, I raise the gun, settle the bead on the bird’s head, and squeeze the trigger. A flurry of feathers fills the air, and the hunt is over.
I click the safety back on, lean the gun against the oak, and walk over to the gobbler to place my tag around his leg. As I sit in silence for a moment, appreciating another perfect morning in the turkey woods. I then threw the bird over my shoulder and walked back to my truck, replaying the scene over again in my head.
Turkey hunting in the spring rejuvenates outdoorsmen of all kinds. The weather is often far better than the last time hunters ventured into the woods for late-season deer or predator sets. Hearing the songs of spring and smelling the fresh air as the woods come back to life offers peace and tranquility. Filling your tag on a mature tom is just the cherry on top. I hope this April you’ll find time to get outside and take it all in.
March 2026
by Lane Rumelhart
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