Sunday morning I met up with my bowhunting buddy Cal for an opening weekend turkey hunt on a neighboring dairy ranch. We hiked up the ridgeline as the sun broke over the eastern horizon, and a 15 mph West wind bit any exposed skin at 38 degrees. From the ridge top we could hear turkeys gobbling down in the pasture at the bottom of the valley. We dropped down off the ridge under the cover of the oaks and set up behind a ditch with willows, along a 5 wire barbed wire fence. Before we could put out any decoys, a tom came off of the opposite ridge down into the open pasture, and we could hear other turkeys pitching down about a quarter mile up the valley.

We started in calling with slates to the lone gobbler. He put on a good show strutting and gobbling for 100 yards as he worked in towards Cal, 20 yards to my left. As he got his bow ready for the bird to step into a shooting lane one of the expectant dairy cows in the pasture took exception to the gobbler’s presence in the maternity pasture and charged at the turkey and chased him off to a patch of trees 65 yards from our position. While he was regaining his composure, I moved over next to Cal and resumed calling. A pair of hens came into the pasture and our tom did his best to impress the ladies, all the while avoiding any over-protective bovines. We called for about an hour and watched as the turkeys fed all around the pasture, no closer than 60 yards.

We were about ready to abandon our spot to chase distant gobbles when a couple of turkeys showed up on the opposite ridge and seemed to gobble with every step. Whether our tom thought he was out numbered, or liked the sound of our siren song, he strutted across the cow pasture, through the ditch and the barbwire fence. This put him at less than 20 yards as he stepped on the same cow trail we were sitting on. I pivoted on my knees and put an arrow through him at mid ships. While the first arrow was lethal, I finished the job with a second arrow to the head and he quit his flopping

We resumed calling, as the two jakes saw the expired bird on the hill side, and they came sprinting on the same path. Cal came to full draw and his arrow zipped through the bird like a knife through hot butter, less than five minutes after I’d arrowed my turkey. His companion sprinted off to the nearby trees, and seemed to hurl turkey insults at us as we loaded up our birds and hiked back up the ridge towards the truck.

This year’s success capped off a streak for us. For three years Cal and I have been hunting together with archery gear. Each time we have ventured out after turkey, we have each been successful, sometimes within seconds of each other. Perhaps it is because we know how each other will react in a given situation, and react accordingly. Our shared love of the challenge of bowhunting has molded us into a team. That is a connection I haven’t felt in any team sport, and I find it satisfying that in an individual pursuit resulted in a feeling of brotherhood that I hope the rest of the hunting community can relate to.