This story is a no-kidding there I was, my very first hunt ever for turkey, I had spent weeks scouting a area in Southern Oregon, They were unicorns back then. It was a two hour drive to get to the ranch I'd been allowed to hunt. I get there in the morning and as I was walking in another hunter passed me on the way out.
Bare chested, covered in blood, crazed look in his eyes, almost the famous thousand yard stare. I was like "Geebuz man, do you need help? What the hell happened.? He explained he'd knocked one down and it had laid there stone cold dead. Said he'd let out a victory whoop and everything. He laid his gun down and walked up to his prize and it leap in his face. He said he couldn't see or anything, all flapping wings and talons. Somehow he got his hands around it's neck and it went to work on him with its spurs. Flayed his chest and arms somthing fierce. Right through his shirt. In panic and rage he said he choked it to death, but a nasty price. I offered to render aid but he spit and said he was fine and staggered off with his enemy proudly draped over his shoulder....
So I'm suddenly thinking this is no joke...dangerous game right?.. I called a bit here and there with no results, then saw a flock of about twenty hens and one tom headed toward a bridge. I beat cheeks and got under that bridge. Thinking about that guy, I was shaking. That tom was the last to cross that bridge and from about five yards I pretty much took his head clean off. Walked right into my barrel. He did a feather, dirt tornado, all wings and talons spurring for like five minutes before I came out from under that bridge. I picked up a stick and poked that evil bugger several times, even though with the gore it was pretty evident he'd gone to the green lands.
No, my first bird I didn't call to my decoy....my later ones I sure did. Hey I was under duress.-WW