In turkey hunting, what earns a gobbler the title of Nemesis Bird?
For starters, he must win. And then win again. He’s got to be wilier than normal and prove it more than once.
He’s got to be the type of tom that always knows the playbook, and just won’t do what you want him to do. He’ll gobble, sure. He’ll come close. But he just won’t commit.
In turkey hunting lore, Nemesis Birds are passed from hunter to hunter with an “I don’t know, you try him” mentality.
They humble us, teach us, and generally put on a masterclass in frustration, but they also give us our most memorable hunts.
The Idaho Nemesis
The Nemesis gave our crew a few beautiful roost gobbles on day one of our 2024 Idaho hunt. Sam Soholt and Beth from Savage Arms located this bird early, and he immediately made it clear he wasn’t going to play by the rules. For three consecutive mornings, he gave them the slip. They’d get tight, he’d gobble, and then he would just evaporate into the timber.
Don’t get me wrong, Sam and Beth were having a great hunt. They were getting on other birds and making things happen, but this one old bastard was living rent-free in their heads. He was the kind of turkey that makes you question everything you know about calling.
Unfortunately, Beth had to pack up and head home before they could settle the score. But leaving a bird like that on the mountain just doesn’t sit right. So, we formed a cleanup crew to see if we could finally make it happen. The roster was set. I was running the camera, Sam was on the gun, and Jason Tartwater stepped in to run the call.
We knew exactly where this bird liked to roost, so we didn’t mess around. In the pitch black, we slipped into his core area. It wasn’t long before the silence broke—a heavy, rattling gobble echoing off the roost.
Elevation and the Reverse Yo-Yo
We slowly and silently picked our way through the dark timber until we were within 100 yards of his tree. This is where the chess match really started, and we relied on two specific tactics to finally break his defenses.
We made absolutely sure our approach put us above the bird. Mountain turkeys are naturally inclined to work their way uphill to find a hen. If you try to call a wary tom downhill, you are fighting an uphill battle (pun intended).
Once we were in position, we deployed our favorite trick for hung-up birds. Sam and I set up against a tree, and Jason peeled back about 30 to 40 yards behind us to call. By calling and subtly moving away, Jason created the audio illusion of a hen losing interest and walking off. With Sam positioned perfectly between the caller and the turkey, he was sitting right in the trap.
The King of the Mountain
The Reverse Yo-Yo was too much for the old tom to handle. He couldn’t stand the thought of that hen walking away. He pitched down and came marching right up the hill, looking for love.
He crested the rise, completely focused on the sound of Jason’s calls behind us, and walked right into Sam’s lap.
At 30 yards, Sam squeezed the trigger and finally ended the three-day chess match.
Walking up to that bird was a surreal moment. When Sam lifted him out of the pine needles, we realized exactly why he had been so smart: he was a true, ancient king of the mountain, sporting three distinct beards. It was the perfect ending to a hunt that tested our patience, our tactics, and our sanity.