Tucked away in the middle of a 40-acre patch of brush and timber on the Allen-Neosho counties line stands a sycamore, its bark accentuated by dark splotches and limbs looking as though they suffer arthritis.
The ground is covered by a cushion of soft sheds from nearby cedars. On that carpet are feathers identified as coming from the four hen turkeys who selected the sycamore as a haven from their most prominent threat, any of several neighboring coyotes.
The firearms season for deer opened Wednesday and within an easy trot of the turkeys’ roost is a feeder filled with corn meant to bring deer within rifle shot of a stand in which I’m stationed 100 yards away.
Most days, the four young hens, as well as half a dozen others, have made as many trips to the feeder as have deer.
Thursday the four hens came to enjoy a mid-afternoon snack.
Two concentrated on a small area and had a time of it challenging each other. When one spotted a kernel, the other would dart over. Most often, though, it was finders keepers.
After about 15 or 20 minutes they all four began to work their way slowly toward where I was sequestered. I put aside a Jack London anthology, appropriate reading for the circumstance, I thought, with London’s remarkable prose laced with outdoor adventure.
With the wind in my favor, the turkeys got within 15 yards. Nor did their keen eyesight uncover my presence, although on several occasions they craned their necks, turned their heads at an angle as wild things are wont and looked directly at me.
The turkeys’ visit was repeated on succeeding days, with the number changing with each appearance and topping out at nine.
HUNTING IN any form can be much more than going after the intended target.
To be truthful, seeing the antics of the turkeys was as interesting as the several bucks who meandered in from thick brush.
Most have been young deer with antlers to match, although I may regret, when the season draws to close, giving pass to a rather nice eight-point whose rack extended well beyond his ears.
“The tines were just too short,” I explained at a noon gathering of several who have hunted the same area for decades.
After all, one must have standards.
At Week’s End: Target not always the point of hunting
