Double Bull co-owner Keith Beam backed up his turkey lessons with a Merriam longbeard.

"Ok, I see him. Geez, he's got to be close to a quarter-mile away. I doubt he'll even hear my calling, but I'll give it a shot," I told Bob. I leaned close to the window and yelped and cutt on my diaphragm as loud as possible while Bob watched the bird through his binos. Bob could see the bird answer about two seconds before the sound actually reached our ears. I cutt hard and loud again. The bird gobbled, broke strut, and started in our direction.

To get to us he would have to cross two deep, wooded ravines. We lost sight of him in the first ravine, but the growing volume of his gobbles told us he was still on his way. All of a sudden he quit talking. Minutes passed without a sound, and I figured one of two things had happened -- either his talkative nature had attracted a hen and now he was with her, or he was closing the distance and didn't want to announce his presence.

I don't purr real well with a diaphragm, so I grabbed my glass call and let out a few soft purrs. His immediate response was so loud I dropped my call's striker in surprise. I peeked through a small hole in the blind, and there he was, 50 yards behind the blind and in full strut. The top of his bright red head glowed white, and the feathers on his ballooned-out chest took on a metallic shimmer with each turn into the sun. He was a thing of beauty!

The stuffed decoy was facing him, and I thought for sure he was going to hold his ground, expecting "her" to come to him. Luckily, our blind blocked his vision and he began a slow, proud dance toward us, his well-worn wingtips rustling the prairie grass -- and my nerves -- with every strutting step.

He passed within feet of the blind, and I swear I could feel the vibration when he spit and drummed. Bob could see him from where he sat in the blind and gestured that I could shoot at anytime. I knew we could get some great footage of the tom strutting less than 10 yards from the blind, but I was coming unglued and knew the sooner I shot the better.

As the gobbler appeared in front of the blind I came to full draw. Take it easy...don't blow this, I thought as I placed my pin ahead of the bird. The tom strutted right up to the decoy, and when my pin met his wingbutt I released. My arrow hit with a dull thump, sending the bird into a series of gyrations (13 to be exact) that took him around the back of the blind and down over the hill.

I ran to the top of the ravine, expecting to find my bird, and was shocked when he was nowhere in sight. Luckily, a trail of blood and feathers led me 100 yards down the ravine where he lay dead near a creek. He was a mature bird with an eight-inch beard and beautiful white bands -- indicative of Merriam's turkeys -- on his full fan.

Bob had been taping the recovery, and when I was finished admiring the tom he turned off his camera, extended his hand, and said "You did it, buddy. Great shot!"

After years of trying, it felt wonderful to finally have that big monkey off my back. I wasn't alone in my success, either. Later that day, Mike Carney arrowed a beautiful tom of his own, as did Keith Beam. Brooks filled his second tag the next day, making another perfect shot with his longbow. Five mature birds by four bowhunters in three days might sound impressive, but trust me, it's just par for the course when your hunting with the Gobbler Guru of Gregory.

Continued -- click on page link below.