It’s a great time of year: The weather worm has finally turned and best of all, spring turkey hunting is here! I had pretty good action on each hunt, except for the very first day which was a complete washout. Rather than sitting out in the rain all day, I waited to hunt until day 2, which was forecasted to be much warmer and more importantly, drier.

My first official day of turkey season arrived with big expectations. As excited as I was for my first hunt of 2024, I misjudged when I had to be in the woods. As I was driving to my hunting spot, I was wishing that I had been 15 or 20 minutes sooner. Instead of slipping into the woods under the cloak of darkness, I was late and feeling exposed as the night dark was already giving way to morning gray.  

When I finally got to my spot I jumped out of the truck and started grabbing my gear. I slipped on my backpack and grabbed a couple of decoys. I reached for my gun and had a Ralphie from “A Christmas Story” moment when I said, “OH FUUUUDGE”, or something like it. My turkey shotgun was back home in the Dave Cave, propped up in a strategic spot that was supposed to make it almost impossible for me to forget.  

I thought about all the times that I have said that I was okay not bagging a bird on opening day, wanting to enjoy and savor the season. I decided that it was time to back up that statement, so I threw the decoys back in the truck, grabbed my thermos full of coffee and headed to the woods. For the next two hours I listened to toms gobble, hens yelp, crows squawk, geese honk, wood ducks squeal, red wing blackbirds chirp, and I watched the sun come up. It was a terrible hunt, but it was the best cup of coffee ever.

The next day I doublechecked my gear before I left the house to begin my quest for a turkey which is when my relationship started with “the three jakes” (that kind of sounds like the name of a musical group). Over the next five days I saw the three jakes six times. They were well within range every day and would have been easy targets but instead of being rivals, we co-existed until the incident.

It happened when a tom stepped out of the woods and into my field. Before I could even shoulder my shotgun, he immediately bolted, running straight away from me like his feathers were on fire. Then it became clear why he departed so quickly. The three jakes stepped out of the woods in the exact same spot. Certainly the jakes had been ganging up on him, forcing him to run out of fear. Collectively they followed the tom, confident that they had the upper hand. They slipped out of sight and I figured that I had seen the last of them, at least on this day. I was wrong.

An hour later the three jakes showed up, unexpectedly and unannounced. They stood there, all within range, long enough for me to take stock of my situation which was that my season was almost over, I didn’t have turkey meat in the freezer, and they were responsible for running off a big tom.

What happened next?  Let’s just say “the three jakes” need a new name.  

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