Long story short, life had been busy the last couple weeks of the season and I didn't have time to get in the woods like I normally do. My grandfather passed away April 28th after being in and out of the hospital for a few weeks fighting sepsis on top of congestive heart failure. His funeral was on the last day of the season here and I was able to slip away and hunt for a couple hours. Not knowing where a bird was I opted to go with a buddy of mine to try and film him shoot a bird he had roosted the night before. That bird gave us the slip and with about 45 minutes to spare before I needed to be getting ready for the funeral, I stopped by my farm on the way home and glassed a field from the road. I could see a couple birds strutting 700 yards from the road but couldn't tell exactly what they were since that property is ate up with jakes. By the time I was able to cut the distance and get behind them it was 8:45am. I made one yelp and was cut off immediately, over the next couple minutes every call was answered by a pair of gobblers and 3 jakes all gobbling simultaneously as they came running into the hedgerow I was in. They put on one heck of a show and I pulled out the farm at 9am and made it to the church on time. I can't help but think grandaddy gave me a little help that morning.
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