I lost my hunting buddy in September 2015. He was struck by a 70+ year-old, inattentive driver while he was riding his bike. He was killed instantly, and I tragically lost a dear friend. The upcoming Kansas hunt all of a sudden seemed much less important and exciting. Many who joined he and I in the past, backed out for a variety of different reasons, so I asked my brother to accompany me. I knew that Rick wouldn't have wanted to see the hunt end, and so I reluctantly pushed forward.
In doing some scouting the day before opener, I located a single Tom with 4 hens and spotted a very large flock of about 20 birds with 3 or 4 Toms and several hens just over on private property from where I can hunt. The season appeared promising.
The next few days brought many opportunities for my brother, but he continued to miss these elusive birds and managed to shoot through my Double Bull Blind on one occasion. In all, I believe he missed 9 or 10 times and he was, to say the least, frustrated.
On our final evening hunt, 3 Toms and approximately 5 hens were spotted down a field edge about 200 yards away and were heading back to their roosting area away from us. Nothing I threw at them call-wise would change their direction. Two hens came out from behind us and slowly fed towards the group to our left. Finally, a couple of gobbles resonated behind us. Two Toms popped out of the woodline behind our blind. They began advancing to our decoys, but noticed the large group down the field edge along with the two hens intent on joining them. They circled our decoys and began moving away, towards the flock. They held up and I ranged them at 51.5 yards. I said to my brother, "This could be our last chance before we have to leave, how comfortable do you feel shooting that distance?" He replied, "Let's do it!" We drew and he shot at the feet of his, while my arrow hit its mark. My brother knocked another arrow, I ranged his bird at 50 yards now, he let it fly and it went over its back. This was now his 8th or 9th miss, he is a proficient shooter and has killed many nice mature bucks. His bird advanced closer to the blind following the Tom I hit closer to the wood line behind us. I ranged his Tom again, this time it was at 46 yards. Once again, my brother released an air ball. He finally said, "Just take him!" I ranged him again at 35 yards, I pulled back and drilled him. We now had two down birds, not quite dead yet. I waited for the other flock to slowly advance into the timber towards their roosting area and sprung out of the blind to chase down my first bird. He still had enough in him to run and swan-dive into a 25 foot deep creek bed where I finished him off. Meanwhile, my brother went after the second tom, and this tom took flight for a short ways and he too glided down into the creek. I was already soaked, and so I crossed to the other side, while my brother walked the opposite edge. He spotted him laying up against the ditch bank. He drew back and let an arrow fly at about 30 feet and hit the water (yes, another miss.) I pulled back and let him have it between the wing blades at about 20 yards. I'm sure Rick was smiling down upon me.
Tom 1: 19.5 lbs., 11" beard, and 1 1/8" spurs.
Tom 2: 23 lbs., 10 " beard, 1" spurs.
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Here's to Rick Brill - 10/7/1970 - 9/27/2015Attachment:
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