Brothers Never Get Old! (by Montana Grant)
By angelamontana


brother1When two turkeys go spring gobbler hunting, some things never change. Brothers always joke, argue, advise, reminisce, tease, aggravate, encourage, agitate, and generally pick on each other. This continued to be the theme for this spring’s turkey hunt.

Brothers have a special relationship that allows them to constantly say and do just about anything. Competition is always a part of the mix. First of all, my brother Curt is the best turkey hunter I know. His calling and attention to detail has allowed him to fill many tags over the years. I tend to enjoy the hunt, companionship, and just being outdoors.

This spring turkey season found us hunting on my brother’s lease on the eastern shore of Maryland. I had never hunted the flatlands but was willing to try something new. Curt has harvested several huge gobblers on the “shore” and hoped to strike gold again.

brother2I was placed in a wooded alcove along the edge of a field. Curt said “walk toward the tallest tree and hunt there. It is a good spot!” So much for any guide experience and direction. I walked the quarter mile to the “good spot” while listening to several gobblers already sounding off. At sunrise, I placed my decoys at 20 yards.

With the first rays of the morning sun, I could see my brother getting into his ground blind a mile away. There was a huge gobbler marching around it the day before. He had done his scouting homework and was set to show up his little brother.

Suddenly, I saw a gobbler in full strut to my right and left. They were a couple yards out and heading toward my decoys. My brother set me up pretty good! Off too my left I heard a hen yelp. She had needs that I could not meet and the gobbler on the right headed straight for her. The left gobbler wanted to fight and walked into the woods after his challenger moved away.

Turkey hunting is about patience and with a little loud calling I heard two gobblers to my right. A huge gobbler was on his way toward my decoys. He was in full strut when I pulled the trigger at 25 yards. How sweet can it get?!

My brother had hooked me up big time and even took the pictures! His morning was good but no shot, too bad! The younger brother is always the better hunter and fisherman, just don’t tell my brother.

Now don’t get me wrong, I love and appreciate my brother as he does me. He shot his first bow kill, 800 lb., bull elk at 7 yards off of my calling. At 24 lbs. for the turkey, my brother still has a way to go.

No matter what the kind of hunting or fishing, my Brother has always been the BEST buddy to adventure with. We never get old, we just get better. Of course, Mom always loved me more!

Nanny , Nanny boo boo!

Montana Grant

 






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