LEARNING TURKEY LANGUAGE--WHY DOES THE GOBBLER GOBBLE
To learn to imitate the cry of a turkey is no great feat, if you
have something to call with and know the sounds you wish to imitate.
One can become proficient in the use of the call with reasonable
effort; but to expect to call intelligently, without a proper
knowledge of the interpretation of the notes produced, is as absurd
as to read a foreign language and not know the meaning of the words.
Unless you know the meaning of the gobble, the yelp, and cluck, in
all their variations, you cannot expect to use the turkey language
intelligently. Without such knowledge you will fail to interest the
bird you try to call, unless by accident or sheer good luck you
brought the cautious thing within sight. It is not desirable, though,
that we depend upon luck; one should prefer skill in calling,
so that he can at all times depend with a degree of certainty on
accomplishing his purpose of fooling the bird. I was once hunting
with a friend, and as we sat together by White Rock Creek calling
an old gobbler; two or three other hunters, at different points but
within hearing, were also calling, keeping the turkey continually
gobbling. My friend asked why I did not call oftener, fearing the
others would decoy the turkey away from us. I told him that I had
already put in my call and the gobbler understood it, and the other
fellows were calling by simply making sounds with no apparent meaning
or reason, and when the gobbler got ready he would come to us. I
then took out my pipe and had a smoke. Meantime the calling by the
other hunters was going on at a terrific rate, and the gobbler was
apparently tickling their ambition with his constant rattle and
strut. Ere long he came directly to us and we shot him.
I have known men who could in practice yelp almost as well as the
turkey, but when attempting to call the wild bird would do little
better than the veriest novice. If such persons' confidence and
ability to call did not fail them, their judgment would, and the
opportunity would be spoiled by some absurd act.
It is not so much what one should do in calling, but what one should
not do, as it is better to leave things undone unless done right.
This subject requires the most minute and careful knowledge of
turkey lore, and will require much of your patience before you are
proficient, and I trust you will find in these lines more for your
contemplation than you might suspect.
The conditions under which you call are daily varied, while the
methods to be employed each time are quite complex. In spring the
males are gobbling, and the love-call of the hen is then the one to
use. In the fall and winter, when the turkeys are in flocks and do
not gobble, this not being the love season, you do not then make
love-call, but such as suits the occasion and the temper of the game.
First, as to gobbling: We will analyze that feature, as it involves
great interest to the hunter. As a matter of fact, more people hunt
the turkey during the gobbling season than at any other time, and
strange to say get fewer turkeys, simply from the fact that the call
is not understood.
Why do they go in quest of turkeys at that season? For the reason
that they are much more easily located, as the gobbling of the turkey
indicates its whereabouts, removing the necessity of spending much
time in search of them; hence, were it not for the gobbling many
hunters would never attempt to hunt the birds, knowing too well it
would be useless.
The first and most important thing that you should impress on your
mind is, that the turkey-cocks gobble for a reason.
Why does the gobbler stand in one spot and make a great ado? Every
turkey, whether born in Florida or Mexico, does the same, and at the
same period of the year, because his gobbling and strutting is to let
the hens know where he is, and if he keeps it up every hen in hearing
will come to him. The gobble of the male turkey is his love-call.
In the early spring, when nature begins to unfold its latent
energies and develop its dormant resources for creating new life,
the old gobbler feels its impulses, and is not slow in asserting
his place as leader of the grand aggregation of noisy choristers
that make the deep solitudes of the forests ring to the echo. From
some tall pine or cypress he loudly proclaims the approach of dawn.
"_Gil-obble-obble-obble, quit, quit cut_," comes the love-call from
his excited throat, so suddenly and unexpectedly that all the smaller
species within a hundred yards are dazed with fright. I often thought
that, if he possessed any faculty of humor, he must be greatly amused
at the commotion he creates all by himself.
[Illustration: Big woods in Louisiana where the old gobblers
roam at will. A delightful place in which to camp]
He stands erect on his high perch, peering in all directions to
determine the next thing to do, or to ascertain the result of that
already done, and it often happens that this is the last and only
gobble he will produce that morning, owing to its being accidental.
But he will stand upon the limb of his roost quietly looking about,
and after preening his plumage for a few moments, and seeing that no
enemy lurks near, he stoops, spreading his great curved wings, and
silently as a summer's breeze leaves the tree and sails to the earth
fifty to seventy-five yards from his perch. He stands perfectly
still some moments until satisfied all is well, then he carefully
places the tip of one wing on the other across his back once or
twice, and walks slowly away to feed. A few mornings later, if the
air be crisp, clear, and not too cold, he will gobble lustily many
times before he flies down, for the first warm days of spring begin
to arouse his animal instincts and he longs for the society of his
mates.
He is now in the prime of turkeyhood, in his finest feather and
flesh. He is fat and plump, hence this is the stage at which the
hunter, most of all, prefers to bag him; but he is no easy game to
secure just now.
If he ever were afraid of his own voice, step, or shadow, it is at
this time; but the forest is ringing with a din of bird song, and it
is impossible to restrain his impulse to "_gil-obble-obble-obble_."
Making one or two quick steps, he raises his head and says
"_put-put_," then stands perfectly still, his great hazel eyes
scanning every leaf or bird that moves.
Why does he gobble? It is the call of nature to break up his
loneliness and secure the society of his mates. Turkeys do not mate
in pairs, they are polygamous, loving many wives.
I wish to direct attention to the common and erroneous belief, even
among expert turkey hunters, that it is the call-note of the hen
that brings the sexes together. This is incorrect. It is the call of
the male. It was after years of study that I discovered this fact,
which, once plain to my mind, assured my success as a turkey hunter.
I found that the gobbler was doing the same thing I was doing; I was
struggling with all my ability and tact to draw him out, while he was
playing the same game on me; it was a question of who had the greater
patience. If I remained and insisted on his approach, he would yield
and come to me. Here is his customary method: At the very break of
day, the weather being favorable, he begins to gobble in the tree
in which he is roosting. The gobbling is produced at very irregular
intervals, sometimes with long, silent spaces between, at others in
rapid succession. Some turkeys gobble a great deal more than others.
Some will gobble but once or twice before they come down, and gobble
no more that day; others will not gobble until they fly down, and
then keep it up for hours. Some will gobble all day from sunrise to
sunset. All these various idiosyncrasies the knowledge of the hunter
must meet. Some will come to the yelp or cluck at the first imitation
of the sound, while others will take hours to make up their minds
whether to come at all. Take it all together, the gobbler has most
obstinate ways, purposely or not; the wily hunter must bring all his
faculties to bear if he would outwit him.
If the old turkey begins to gobble on the roost at the early dawn and
to strut (although all do not strut in the trees), he will gobble,
watch, and wait, hoping he may catch sight of the female--located
by her responsive yelp or cluck--that may be roosting in a tree
near him, or one approaching on foot or flying toward him through
the timber. If not so fortunate, he will usually fly to the ground,
scan the surroundings with his keen eye a moment or so, then drop
his wings, spread his semicircular tail, strut, and gobble. Then
he lets his dress slowly down as the spasmodic paroxysm subsides,
listens, and looks, gobbles a time or two, listens again, and struts,
and so on. If he sees no hen or hears no sound resembling that which
he desires, he begins to calmly walk toward his feeding grounds,
gobbling at long intervals; he then usually stops for the day. This
applies to the first weeks of the gobbling season, and he is quite
easily called then, as it is too early for the hen to crave his
attentions; but later it all changes.
The hens seek his presence as the procreative impulses begin to stir
them. The gobbler then will take up a chosen territory in a certain
piece of woods, the most favorable to required conditions, and roost
in the vicinity nearly every night, that is, in case he has secured
a fair harem of six or eight hens; but if he is not so fortunate he
will run all about the country, having no special place to spend
the night. But now we are contemplating the gobbler who has been so
fortunate as to secure a fair-sized harem, and has confined himself
to one locality, in which he will peaceably and contentedly remain
all the gobbling season. I have heard them gobble late in June when
they have one or two hens with them, who evidently have had their
nests and eggs destroyed and are again associating with the males. It
is usual for the hen to visit the gobbler every morning, staying in
his company only for a short time; and when she departs he follows
her slowly a few steps, then begins to strut and gobble violently
until she is out of sight. He knows his complement of hens, and
does not cease to strut and gobble until all hens come to him; he
then quits gobbling and strutting and steals away to feed on tender
leaves, buds, and grasshoppers. At such times the hunter, by piping
seductive quavers, may tickle his vanity and stir anew his passion,
when he will stop in his hunt for food and commence to gobble, strut,
and gyrate enough to exhaust your patience, but if you call properly
and are cool and quiet he will come.
The turkey's gobble is easily heard at a distance of from one to two
miles if the air is still and clear.
These are the rules that apply to turkeys in general, but there are
exceptions; for instance, some old gobblers never secure the favor
of even one hen during the whole season, but will run and prowl the
country over, seeking such stray females as may be met with, even
visiting the grangers' domestic flocks, which is not an unfrequent
circumstance in settled neighborhoods. These solitary old birds when
met with are easy prey to the expert caller.