The Quest For Blue

Anyone who knows Sarah Tonsmeire will tell you she’s a force to be reckoned with. She is an active member of the Cartersville community and volunteer for both local charities and national wildlife conservation. At age 28, she’s fortunate enough to be able to unite her passion with her occupation as a NASCAR account manager for FWC Sports.

When I met Sarah during the 2015 Georgia Ducks Unlimited State Convention, where she serves as district chairman and state calendar raffle chair, I knew we would be great friends and that one day we would share a hunt together. Once I learned that she had always dreamed of taking her first gobbler, I promised her I would help make that dream a reality.

Admittedly, I’m no expert turkey hunter. I had never called a turkey in and had only killed one in my life, which was by pure happenstance. However, my hunting property holds a healthy turkey population, and I felt certain I could put her on a good gobbler.

I should have known it wouldn’t come easily.

On opening morning, we rose extra early, excited at the prospects of taking a large tom. I had scouted for weeks prior, and the gobblers had been fired up in a particular cut crop field for several days. We set up in a blind 400 yards directly across from a stand of pines where they roosted. At first light, you could just make out the decoys 30 yards from us in the mist. The moment I heard the first tom announce his availability to the world, I responded with a subtle yelp, just enough to make him aware of our location.

Sarah Tonsmeire, of Cartersville, overcame about every trial and tribulation a turkey hunter could face—from a miss to a decoy-stealing coyote—before finally connecting on this Habersham County gobbler she had nicknamed Blue.

I leaned back in the darkness of the blind, figuring it would be at least 30 minutes before any turkeys closed the distance to begin the day’s action.

How wrong I was!

Sarah immediately said she could see what she thought was a deer near the decoys. I leaned forward, only able to discern the rigid jake and hen decoys, silently guarding our position in the low light. Then, with a flash of movement, the jake accelerated in a northeasterly direction.

Under my breath, I cursed, “Dang coyote!”

I shot up, rushed and angry, fumbling to find the zipper to the blind door in the dark. All the while, Sarah was laughing uncontrollably. Eventually, I too was laughing at the ridiculous situation. Luckily the decoy had been dropped a short distance away, and within minutes the jake decoy was returned to a sedentary stance by the hen, and I was back in the blind.

Unfortunately, the real turkeys in the area knew something was up and went to another corner of the field, only to then disappear into the woods.

We soon moved to another field where we spotted a large lone tom strutting. We moved into position around the other side of the field and closed the distance to within 100 yards. I quickly set up a hen decoy and laid down a few soft yelps and purrs. Within minutes, he cleared the distance and slowly strutted down the roadbed 55 yards from Sarah’s position.

Once he spotted the decoy, he froze at 53 yards, unsure and unwilling to close the distance. Though she had turkey hunted for four years and had several close calls, this was the first time in all of her attempts that she actually had one lined up on the shotgun bead.

While wanting to pull the trigger badly, Sarah was uncertain of the distance. She waited for him to walk closer, but he turned and eased into the woods above us. No shot opportunities were offered because of the thick brush.

I knew she was disappointed. Since Sarah hadn’t been comfortable with taking such a long shot, I reassured her that she had made the right decision. We decided to call it a morning and have breakfast, happy that the morning had been exciting even though no bird was taken. As we discussed the hunt over our meal, she commented on how beautiful the gobbler had been, in particular his bright blue head.

She decided to name him “Blue” at that moment, and he became her top target for the remainder of the season.

Three days later we returned to the field where the coyote had tried to steal our decoy. We set up in the upper corner where the turkeys had entered the field on our previous hunt. Wouldn’t you know it, they followed suit by filtering to the lower corner where we had set up before. With no sign of Blue, we looked for other opportunities. Over the next two hours, we had a few blown setups. Luckily, we spotted a large tom just before lunch. Having figured out that these birds weren’t about to come to our decoys in fields, we tucked ourselves into a pine thicket on the edge of a logging road 250 yards from the tom. I let out a loud yelp, and he responded with an immediate thundering gobble. He practically began to run in our direction.

I yelped again, and he had closed the distance to within 125 yards. Moments later, I saw him to my left entering a drainage. Knowing at this point that he was going to approach from the roadbed to our left, I told Sarah to get ready. Two minutes later he was strutting 20 yards away in the roadbed, with a few pine trees separating him from Sarah.  He moved forward into the open, tentatively searching for the lonely lady.

At 17 yards, he started to turn away and walk behind a stump. I let out a lone, soft cluck with my slate call. He turned back toward Sarah and stopped-looking directly at us at 16 yards. He stretched his neck, peering into the pines.

I whispered to her “Shoot him!”

The words had barely left my mouth when her Remington 1187 exploded. The big bird immediately launched in the air and soared 200 yards through the pines and across the field, hitting the ground running. My heart broke for Sarah. She had missed.

The next three outings over the following 10 days did not improve our luck. We focused exclusively on Blue. Sarah was determined to take him and only him. Each morning, he would either be henned up, he would hang up over 50 yards away, or two annoying satellite jakes would interfere with our attempts.  Sarah began to insist that she was cursed when it came to turkeys, but I argued that we would put that rumor to rest if she just gave it more time.

As fate would have it, only one open hunting date remained before Sarah’s NASCAR travel schedule would cut her turkey season short. That Sunday, I rose and prepared coffee as I hatched four different game plans for any known scenario that Blue could throw at us. Sarah was less than enthusiastic, and I could tell she was losing confidence, convinced that her curse was real. I too was feeling the pressure. I wanted more than anything to help her make that milestone happen, but with one morning left to hunt, the odds did not look good.

At daybreak we took up a scouting position to glass Blue’s normal strutting zones. For several minutes I saw nothing in any of the fields, and my heart began to sink. Then, on one final scan of the area with my optics, I caught movement. I focused. It was one, then two, then three gobblers strutting into an opening. Most importantly, Blue was in the group.

For the very first time, he was in a position that gave us a distinct advantage. He and the other two gobblers were strutting in a clover patch that was connected to a larger food plot by a narrow access road which bordered the Soque River on one side, and a steep, 8-foot bank with a briar patch and woods on the other. The gobblers regularly used both plots for strutting zones. The access road was their thoroughfare of choice, and with luck, it would also serve as their downfall.

We quickly moved across the unoccupied food plot into the briar patch above the road. I had Sarah nestle into a position behind a log and briars which prevented the birds from seeing her. The upside was that the first thing Sarah would see would be the turkey literally 10 feet from her. The downside was she would have to act quickly to get a shot without being spotted. Due to Blue’s tendency to hang up, I chose to set up 75 feet away from Sarah parallel to the road. My hope was that he would hang up directly in front of Sarah. I would be unable to see anything from my position, and I would have to go by her body language to decipher what was unfolding in front of her. Once Sarah gave me the signal that she was ready, I yelped nice and loud with my trusty slate. Blue gobbled loudly before I could finish. He was less than 40 yards from Sarah.

I waited a moment and yelped softly again. No response. I put down my call and waited. I knew he was closing the distance over the next 5 minutes, but at what pace? It felt like an eternity. As I debated whether or not I should make a subtle purr call, I saw Sarah begin to move her gun barrel. Before another thought could enter my mind, she fired. She turned to me, and I asked if she got him, and she said, “I think so. He’s on the ground.”

I jumped up to congratulate her and make sure he was down. I saw Blue lying motionless beside the river and gave her a big hug. Sarah’s face held a look that was a mixture of complete happiness and utter disbelief. Once she reached Blue and put her hands on his head, examined his beard and spurs, the disbelief faded and only the smile remained. Her curse had finally been lifted.

Blue was a beautiful 3-year-old gobbler weighing in at 21 pounds with a 9 1/2-inch beard. However, this bird was so much more than a group of numbers or a trophy on a wall. For Sarah, he represented years of hard work coming to fruition, redemption, and the joy of a dream coming true. For me, it was one of the most rewarding hunting experiences of my life. Nothing can compare to the feeling of sharing such a special moment with a close friend in the turkey woods.