The two hens and three gobblers once again stepped into the clearing, the range looked like 35 to 40 yards all three gobblers were all facing away from me and my only target was the back side of three fans. Then from over my right shoulder one of the hens that had been coming in from behind me finally must have made me out and let go two very loud "Puts". I knew the gig was up and as the toms lowered their fans to confirm any danger I selected a bird, swung the bead to blot out its head and squeezed the trigger in a singular motion. The tom was instantly consumed by a bee hive of 5's and wilted into the grass. As I racked the slide for any follow up that might be required the two other gobblers took off at a trot but when seeing their companion down for the count reversed direction and came back to get in a few licks of their own. For the next minute the two remaining toms assaulted their fallen comrade until they saw me slowly getting to my feet. A calliope of puts erupted from the surrounding area and within seconds all was quiet as the remaining members of this flock beat feet or sailed out of sight.
I ejected the two remaining rounds and walked over to the bird. I always marvel at these big birds as I love to hunt them. In the past few years I have passed up a lot of birds as I know once the trigger is pulled the hunt is over, this year was different. I sat down in the cool grass and then looked at this old Model 12 closely. Was this the first turkey to fall to this gun? I have no history to draw from, no accounts of birds before me. I'll have to make my own.
I tagged then gutted the bird and noticed that I was now thirsty with all the water being at the truck. So I gather his legs together and slung him over my shoulder and with the Model 12 in the other hand I began to hike down canyon. The walk out was just as sweet as the dance.