Warner And The Whale

Story by Bob Fringer




A thunderous gobble greeted us as Warner and I were quietly climbing out of his truck. It was still 45 minutes before sunrise and no self- respecting turkey should have been gobbling at that time.

We quickly grabbed our decoys and headed toward the tree line where the demented turkey was gobbling. I was going along as an observer and did not carry my gun. We had to walk about 100 yards along a water-filled ditch before we reached a place where we could cross it. We had planned to ford the ditch and then walk another 100 yards to the edge of the woods where we intended to hunt. Warner was the first one to cross the ditch while I brought up the rear. I wasn’t quite as nimble as Warner so I had to crawl up the far side of the ditch on my hands and knees. As I was groping my way up the steep bank we could hear the gobbler fly down into the field. We barely saw the bird through the murky haze of the early morning light. It gobbled several times and began to walk out into the field. We couldn’t move any farther without being seen. The only cover we had was about 10 inches of grass. Warner, 5 yards to my left, was able to nestle down into the grass but I, with an extra large belly, sprawled out across the grass, looking much like a beached whale in a camouflaged jump suit.

I was having a difficult time seeing the gobbler. I had knocked my cap sideways while climbing out of the ditch, twisted my face mask around my head so that I couldn’t see out of the eye holes and pushed my eyeglasses slightly off my nose.

About that time, Warner said that he had seen another gobbler enter the field. He laughed when he saw my predicaments. I replied that I couldn’t see anything.

After some major adjustments on my part, I was finally able to see the two birds strutting around in the field. I couldn’t see well enough to determine the ages of the birds, but Warner, with a better vantage point, said that there was one mature gobbler and a jake (immature male).

The two birds walked around the field and slowly wandered away from us. Warner was able to put a decoy out in front of us when the birds were walking away. The birds were now 120 yards out in the field. Suddenly, they sprinted across the field and began to chase another bird. The three of them ran back and forth around the field. The chase went on for several minutes, with the birds getting closer to us each time they ran across the field. Since I didn’t have much cover, I kept my head low and, consequently, could only catch a glimpse of the bird every so often.

Soon, Warner whispered, “I think I can kill that bird.” I thought the birds were too far away and urged Warner to wait. At this point, Warner shouldered his gun. I looked up and saw two jakes running straight to the decoy and told Warner that the birds were too young to shoot. Suddenly, Warner’s gun blast broke the stillness of the morning. The two jakes, about 15 yards from us, took off for parts unknown. The bird Warner shot was flapping on the ground. It quickly became apparent to me that Warner and I weren’t looking at the same bird. He had shot a nice sized two-year old gobbler.

Warner had made a long shot. The distance between where he had shot and where the bird lay was 47 paces. That’s a long way to kill a turkey.

We picked up the bird and the decoy and headed back to the truck. I made it back across the ditch without any problem. It had been an exciting morning and now Warner had “a whale of a tale” to tell.



Bob Fringer
July 10, 2007