Eagle encounter interrupts turkey hunt

Hunting wild turkeys in the fall is a different game than it is in the spring.

Unlike the springtime when the gobbler’s ardor is at its peak and he can be enticed into range by calling, frequently announcing his entrance with robust gobbling, fall turkey hunting is mostly a silent affair.

While it’s possible on occasion to call in curious birds, an October hunt is mostly patterning movements and then setting up an ambush point.

Thus, a fall hunt is not nearly as exciting once conducted in the spring.

But with such a wet fall as this one, when pheasant hunting is in a holding pattern because of standing crops, I decided to pick up a surplus fall turkey license to kill a few days of vacation and with a little luck, a turkey dinner.

A week ago, on the final day of my five-day season and with my tag yet unsued, I was comfortably seated in a folding chair within a portable ground blind on the edge of the woods and a harvested soybean field of 10 acres or so.

The night before, two flocks of hens and poults had ambled across the field to their evening roosting areas. They finally slipped into the woods just too far away to chance a shot.

So with coffee in hand and shotgun at ready between paging through a dog-eared Stephen Coonts novel, I settled in to wile away the morning, confident that a wild turkey dinner was a sure thing when birds strolled by after leaving their roosts.

To entice them a bit closer, 10 yards from my blind, a trio of collapsible foam hen turkey decoys swiveled convincingly back and forth in the gentle breeze.

I was engrossed in the spy novel when there was a shadow outside my blind followed by a loud “thwack.”

I glanced up quick enough to see a large bird snatch one of my decoys from its stake.

The immature bald eagle just starting to display the characteristic white head and tail of an adult then sailed a 100 yards away, settling in the field with my decoy dangling from its talons.

I watched, assuming the bird would realized the error and abandon the fake bird.

Instead, it attacked the foam decoy with renewed gusto, kneading it with its yellow talons.

After a few minutes, the bird lowered its head and tugged at the decoy’s head with its sharp beak.

I expected the bird to catch on at any moment that there was something a bit peculiar about this particular turkey dinner.

Instead, it continued to peck and tear at the decoy. Soon it was throwing bits and pieces over its back as it ripped away at the foam.

By now, I had written off the decoy as a loss. I settled back to see just how long it would take before the eagle decided there was nothing there to eat.

Fifteen minutes later, as the bird continued to tear at the decoy, a thought occurred to me: What if the thing actually was eating the foam? It probably wouldn’t bode well for its health.

I unzipped the blind and stepped out. In an instant, the eagle spotted me and took to the air. What was left of my decoy dangled from its talons for a few yards before it dropped it and with a couple of wingbeats, disappeared over the trees.

I retrieved my shredded decoy for proof of my odd eagle encounter and climbed back into my blind, hoping the turkeys still might appear. They never did and after several hours, I packed up and headed back to the truck.

For me, just as for the eagle, a wild turkey dinner was to be only a pleasant thought.



John Cross is a Free Press staff writer. Contact him at 344-6376 or by e-mail at jcross@mankatofreepress.com.