Fast forward to saturday morning, we had 8 or 9 hens fly down right behind us but didn't hear a single gobble. A little before 8 a.m. we decided to fuel the truck up and spend the day looking for birds on ground we have permission on that we could put a stalk on (We aren't very patient when it comes to turkey hunting). It didn't take long, we made it about a 1/2 mile down the road and saw Mr. Tom strutting in a picked corn field along a creek. We had three options, 1.) Walk about a 1/2 mile thru a old grown up cow pasture and come down the ridge right on top of him and likely get caught in the process. 2.) We had a small parcel of land that I didn't have permission to be on between the road and the turkey along a creek, so we would need to hug the steep creek bank, trying to stay dry and not trespass (10 feet horizontally from normal water level is considered public land in Indiana along navigatable waters). 3.) Wade the creek, however this creek is generally deeper than others in the area with pools in the summer that are 5 to 6 feet deep and the water was higher than summer time and obviously still pretty cold. We chose option 2. After about a hundred yards we had both gotten pretty frustrated with slipping down the bank over and over. One false step on my part changed our plans. I slipped and went in up to my chest. Since I had involuntarily gotten wet, option 3 came into play. We decided to wade the creek down to the turkey's.
The water was pretty darn cold but the approach was silent. We got out once to check the location of the Tom and marked a tree along the creek to exit at just below the him. Only about 200 yards to go. After spending 45 minutes wading the creek we crawled up the creek bank only to discover no turkeys. My buddy belly crawled out a couple rows to see if they were further down, bingo 70 yards. We debated on whether to try to close the distance or not, then Mr. Tom started gobbling his brains out and we knew he was hot. A couple of soft yelps from an old ratty H.S. strut, Raspy Old Hen diaphragm and he came charging in. I could hear him spit drummin but couldn't see him because I was laying down. He poked his head up looking for that hen and it was all over at 13 steps. The forked tree in the background is where I was laying.
Heavier bird but not much for spurs or a beard, 23 #s only about 1/2" spurs and a 9 1/2 " beard. Pretty fun stalk that covered about a 1/4 mile of wading in a belly/chest deep creek. 
Cool dead head as well. It was funny I found one dead head and 2 sheds while turkey hunting. I trip over them when not looking but when I'm looking; its another story.
