With darkness lifting, the fog had settled across the field, two dark figures emerged from the left, then two more emerged from the bottom of the field. Through the scope at 70 yards, it was clear to see that they were all hens, that came to locate my early morning calls. They gathered around my decoy, fluffed up and shook, as if to establish their rankings, or shed the mist from their feathers that gathered from the dense fog. Working back and forth in the field, eating as they went, and again returning to my calling when they escaped from my sight. Only one distant gobble was heard, while the hens continued feeding around me. Long, peaceful silence. Two more dark figures enter from the bottom of the field and also appear to be hens. No, wait, is it, yes, they both have small beards. The Jakes continue to close the distance as if lead by a string to my decoy. Steady, it's 40 yards to the bigger Jake, Cluck, Cluck, he stops, raises his head, Breath, Relax, Aim, Squeeze, BOOM, Follow through. He pushed on ten feet and died.
After two previous weeks without success, I was not going to pass on such a perfect opportunity to harvest my first turkey with a handgun. He may not be a giant old Tom, but he is still a trophy to me!
The shot entered near the base of his neck, and exited destroying his right hip. The 154gr JSP 7.62X39 really did the job leaving an inch and a half exit hole.