Doubling down on turkey in St. Thomas

I know I’m asking a lot when I tell Jeff Page and Gord Green of Purrs, Putts and Struts Guiding Service that I’d like my daughter, Abby, and I to shoot a double on turkeys. Toms can be notoriously stubborn, so to expect two to behave the way we want is really pushing it. And, will Abby — who is notorious for dozing off while turkey hunting — be up to it? The challenge I hear a gobble as we finish setting up decoys at 5:25 a.m., just as the black of night is replaced by the warm colours of dawn. When I hear more gobbling, this time from a different direction, I start thinking the double challenge might be feasible. It’s a still and clear morning, with a mist hovering as the clock hits 5:34 a.m., legal shooting time where we are, south of St. Thomas. We’re set up on the edge of a large ploughed field rimmed by hardwoods and overhanging beech branches provide cover, but I further break up our outline with an HS Strut pop-up screen. It has a built-in gun rest to assist Abby. We position ourselves comfortably behind the screen on two turkey chairs. Abby is in the shooting position with an open view of the decoys. As we settle in, another gobble pierces the morning calm. Green, about five yards away with his back against a shagbark hickory, lets out his own gobble. The bird replies. Nicknamed the “Turkey Whisperer,” Green has hunted turkeys for more than 25 years. He and Page are the president and vice-president, respectively, of the local chapter of the Canadian Wild Turkey Federation. Morning serenade A few quiet yelps from Green’s diaphragm call elicit another response from one of the toms. The back and forth exchange continues and a third bird joins in. Green cranks up the intensity of his calling and a fourth bird, to my right, becomes part of the conversation. Then a fifth adds to the morning serenade. Just as I’m starting to become genuinely hopeful, the calling dies down. As the morning brightens, Green continues with yelps, clucks, purrs, and the occasional gobble, but all is quiet on the tom front. Abby starts to doze off just as I detect movement at the edge of a dip in the field. I see the familiar semicircle of a turkey’s tail beyond the dip. I nudge