This past spring, I set out for a Merriam’s Turkey hunt in the rugged beauty of the Black Hills of South Dakota, determined to bag a gobbler. Little did I know, it would be one of the most memorable hunts of my life.
The day began with a quiet stillness in the air. Early on, I managed to get a few response gobbles, but nothing came in. Despite the slow start, I wasn’t ready to give up. I spent hours adjusting my tactics, determined to make the most of this hunt. By afternoon, my confidence started to wane, but I pushed forward, hiking through the hills, hoping for a shock gobble with my crow call.
No response.
With the light fading into evening, hope was dimming, but I reminded myself that persistence often pays off. Then, to my surprise, I spotted a few hens on a ridge across from me. They were making their way toward what I assumed was their roost, but they weren’t alone. Trailing behind them was a beautiful Tom, strutting with confidence, ready to make his move.
In that moment, everything changed. The sight of that Tom reignited my excitement. I let out a few light clucks with my diaphragm call, just enough to catch his attention. Slowly, he veered away from the hens and began meandering toward me. Every step felt like an eternity as I watched him approach, heart pounding, knowing this was my moment. When he finally came into range, I steadied my aim with my Benelli Super Nova and gently squeezed the trigger.
BAM!
My Winchester Double X turkey loads hit their mark, and the gobbler shot into the air before crashing to the ground, trying to run. I quickly fired another shot to put him to rest. As I walked up to him, I was in awe of the beauty of this magnificent bird. His beard stretched an impressive 8 inches—long by Black Hills standards, where the rocky terrain can grind down the beards and spurs.
It was a hunt I’ll always cherish. Not just for the successful harvest, but for the persistence, the beauty of the Black Hills, and the excitement of overcoming the odds. To preserve the memory of this fantastic hunt, I made a fan mount by hand, using Borax to dry the meat. Once dried, I displayed the fan and the beard in a shadow box. I even used my grinding wheel to shave the shells down to the brass, adding them to the display. As for the spurs, I carefully cut them, drilled them out, filled them with Borax, and let them dry. The finished mount is a beautiful reminder of this unforgettable adventure—a lasting tribute to the gobbler and the memories made.
This hunt will live with me forever, not only for the triumph of the harvest but also for the connection with nature and the persistence that made it all possible.
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