Post by mrode363 on Feb 6, 2016 1:44:58 GMT
The tom is walking right to me, this is going to be my first ever turkey! Just a few more steps and I’ll finally break the curse! Safety off… Slowly squeeze the trigger…
(Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep)
I roll over and grab the rude piece of technology that interrupted my thoughts. 3:50 A.M. Well I guess that little turkey hunt was a dream now wasn’t it? The typical start to my first day of spring turkey hunting every year.
I rolled out of bed and began to gather up all my hunting gear, all the while thinking up the usual pre-hunt questions… “Will this finally be the year I get my first turkey? I wonder where I should sit? Do I have all my calls and decoys? I wonder how many deer I am going to see today?” After I ran out of questions to ponder, it was time to hit the road and begin the 2015 spring turkey hunting season; my eighth year chasing the elusive and clever birds.
I began the 40-some minute drive to the hunting grounds that have become a second home to me over the years. As soon as I turned off the highway and entered the hunting property, the deer began to show up. One next to the road, two by that fence, three running up the hill. This is only the typical entrance while driving to the strip of land we hunt turkeys on…
The usual turkey season consists of many hours out in the woods, usually seeing more deer than turkeys and always ending with the turkey tag being tossed in the garbage instead of placed around the leg of a long-beard. The hunt I was embarking upon was one where in which I was more or less scouting for the weekend hunt where we could get 3 shotguns in the woods, thus increasing our chances of harvesting a bird. For the first time ever, I was more focused on learning the turkey’s daily routines instead of trying to actually harvest one.
After I parked the F-150, I began the two-hill trek to the hunting paradise that is the man-made pond. It is a location I have hunted in the past and a place in which I feel like I can see the entire farm from one spot. Okay, maybe I cannot see the entire farm from my spot, but I can see a good 300 yards in every direction but behind me.
The first few minutes of my hunt, I decided just to sit and listen to where the gobbles were coming from. There was gobbling in nearly every direction; I could at least pick out five different locations meaning there was at least five gobblers in the area.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a movement. A hen had snuck through the woods and behind the pond. It walked up the hill in front of me and disappeared over the top of the hill. A good start to the turkey season.
The gobbling was on and off throughout the first hour or two of my hunt. It was nearly 7 A.M. now and I had yet to see a tom, let alone another turkey outside of that one hen. Right on cue, two turkeys came back over the top of the hill and started walking right towards my three decoys. They were non-responsive but surely looked big enough to be bearded-turkeys. I got my 20-gauge ready and patiently sat, waiting to see if they were a couple of hens or just quiet toms.
75 yards away and still no idea what gender they were. I was beginning to get restless and started to scan my surroundings. I’m glad I did because to my left was another turkey. The three turkeys soon met up and were close enough to distinguish as hens. The hens slowly worked the hill in front of me, keeping me entertained for the time being.
The trio of hens provided me with nearly two hours of action before slipping into the woods off to my left. I began to call every few minutes to try and shake up the woods and get some gobblers active again. My strategy paid off and within a few minutes I had the entire county of turkeys gobbling back at me. Now it was time to get one to commit and seal the deal.
It was about 9:15 A.M. now and I still hadn’t seen any long-beards. It’s almost like the turkeys could sense my anxiousness because the three hens returned to the field to grab a mid-morning snack. The hens only stayed for a few minutes before walking to the woods across the field in front of me. If nothing else happened, I was more than content seeing all of the hens and hearing all of those gobbles.
It was nearing 9:30 in the morning which is usually about the time I pack it up and call it a day. I decided to let a few more yelps from my slate call go and immediately was answered by a number of gobbles. The gobbling was from a hill or two over and I thought nothing of it at the time.
At 10, I decided to let one more call go and then leave if there was no gobbling near me. Once again, there was a number of gobbles that followed my calling. This time much closer than the last set of gobbles. I ducked down so I could see past the pine branches in front of me and peered at an empty field. I thought for sure that those turkeys were close enough to be in the fields by now.
I gave myself another 15 minutes to see if any turkeys would show up. It was nearly 10:15 and I began to pack my calls up. As I leaned back to grab my slate call, I noticed some movement in the field to my left. Soon, I could pick out a group of four turkeys walking towards me. At the time I had forgotten the gobbling that had come from that direction and figured it was a group of hens.
I decided to call to them to see if they would gobble back. They did not respond and I had my mind set that I was watching some hens in the field. I pulled out my cell phone and began snapping photos of them. I checked the camera library to see if the pictures were clear enough to show other people. As I looked over the photos, I began to think that the hens were pretty big ones.
I pulled out my call again and let a few yelps out. This time, the group of “hens” popped their heads up and started to walk towards me. Maybe they aren’t hens after all…
The walking pace was not a quick one but the birds were still quickly cutting the distance between the five of us. 100 yards, 80 yards, 60 yards, 40 yards… They were now in range.
I peered at them, staring for a beard and not seeing anything began to let my body ease up. Three of the turkeys had separated themselves from the last one and were walking a few yards ahead. That is when I noticed a beard. Two. Three. They were all bearded turkeys!
They were pretty decent-sized birds and I was trying to pick out the biggest to decide if it was a suitable first ever turkey. The last turkey is the one that I determined as the biggest of the group of mature jakes. But was he big enough to shoot and call my first ever turkey?
At this point in time, I was being extremely picky. I had hunted eight years trying to harvest a turkey. Now I had four in range and was trying to determine if one was big enough for me. My selfishness got the best of me and I let the turkeys walk away after being within 20 yards.
They began to walk around the woods of pines I was situated in. They worked around a bend to the left of me and were soon out of my vision. That is when I began to second-guess myself. I had a chance to bag my first ever bird and I let all four of them walk. It was now do-or-die time now.
I grabbed my slate call again and began calling to try and call the group of birds back. Luckily, they all were interested in the call and started walking back towards my decoys. I kept calling and the birds kept coming. I found the biggest turkey again and waited for a clean shot. The turkeys did not cooperate this time and walked in with their heads all lined up. If I would have taken a shot, I might have hit more than one of them.
I patiently waited for the birds to separate. 30 yards, 20 yards, 10 yards. Still not separated. They are gonna walk right up to me! I began to shake, also known as turkey fever to my dad and hunting buddies, and my heart started to beat rapidly. I didn’t know if I could take this moment much longer.
Still not separated and the birds are within about 15 feet of me. Surely a shot taken at this time would result in multiple birds being hit by the immense amount of bb’s within my 20-gauge shell. I started to mutter under my breath; I hoped my words would somehow compel the turkeys to separate so I could take a shot. “Please separate. Come on. Please. Please. Please separate”. The turkeys did not separate and kept inching closer and closer. It was only a matter of seconds before the turkeys would spot me and fly off into the woods.
“Just one more step, come on!” This time my muttered words were a little louder, so much so that that turkey I had been looking to shoot heard me and popped his head up. The turkeys behind him did the same and were anxiously scanning the woods to figure out what had made that noise.
The lead long-beard began to lead the group of turkeys into the woods; however, the lead bird got a few steps ahead of the remaining three. 10 feet and closing… “Finally” I muttered to myself as I slowly began to squeeze the trigger. That is when one of the four turkeys spotted me and clucked once…
BANG! The lead turkey went down in a heap as the rest of the turkeys ran off into the woods. I had finally shot a turkey! At 6 feet, I executed a perfectly clean shot. When I got my hands on him, I realized that this once-“hen”, then affirmed long-beard was a very mature one, borderline young tom. He was close to 20 pounds and had a 5 and a half inch beard on him. Not a bad first turkey after all. Year 8 proved to be the lucky year for me.
I have attached a number of photos that I captured on my phone during my hunt. Check them out!
(Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep)
I roll over and grab the rude piece of technology that interrupted my thoughts. 3:50 A.M. Well I guess that little turkey hunt was a dream now wasn’t it? The typical start to my first day of spring turkey hunting every year.
I rolled out of bed and began to gather up all my hunting gear, all the while thinking up the usual pre-hunt questions… “Will this finally be the year I get my first turkey? I wonder where I should sit? Do I have all my calls and decoys? I wonder how many deer I am going to see today?” After I ran out of questions to ponder, it was time to hit the road and begin the 2015 spring turkey hunting season; my eighth year chasing the elusive and clever birds.
I began the 40-some minute drive to the hunting grounds that have become a second home to me over the years. As soon as I turned off the highway and entered the hunting property, the deer began to show up. One next to the road, two by that fence, three running up the hill. This is only the typical entrance while driving to the strip of land we hunt turkeys on…
The usual turkey season consists of many hours out in the woods, usually seeing more deer than turkeys and always ending with the turkey tag being tossed in the garbage instead of placed around the leg of a long-beard. The hunt I was embarking upon was one where in which I was more or less scouting for the weekend hunt where we could get 3 shotguns in the woods, thus increasing our chances of harvesting a bird. For the first time ever, I was more focused on learning the turkey’s daily routines instead of trying to actually harvest one.
After I parked the F-150, I began the two-hill trek to the hunting paradise that is the man-made pond. It is a location I have hunted in the past and a place in which I feel like I can see the entire farm from one spot. Okay, maybe I cannot see the entire farm from my spot, but I can see a good 300 yards in every direction but behind me.
The first few minutes of my hunt, I decided just to sit and listen to where the gobbles were coming from. There was gobbling in nearly every direction; I could at least pick out five different locations meaning there was at least five gobblers in the area.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a movement. A hen had snuck through the woods and behind the pond. It walked up the hill in front of me and disappeared over the top of the hill. A good start to the turkey season.
The gobbling was on and off throughout the first hour or two of my hunt. It was nearly 7 A.M. now and I had yet to see a tom, let alone another turkey outside of that one hen. Right on cue, two turkeys came back over the top of the hill and started walking right towards my three decoys. They were non-responsive but surely looked big enough to be bearded-turkeys. I got my 20-gauge ready and patiently sat, waiting to see if they were a couple of hens or just quiet toms.
75 yards away and still no idea what gender they were. I was beginning to get restless and started to scan my surroundings. I’m glad I did because to my left was another turkey. The three turkeys soon met up and were close enough to distinguish as hens. The hens slowly worked the hill in front of me, keeping me entertained for the time being.
The trio of hens provided me with nearly two hours of action before slipping into the woods off to my left. I began to call every few minutes to try and shake up the woods and get some gobblers active again. My strategy paid off and within a few minutes I had the entire county of turkeys gobbling back at me. Now it was time to get one to commit and seal the deal.
It was about 9:15 A.M. now and I still hadn’t seen any long-beards. It’s almost like the turkeys could sense my anxiousness because the three hens returned to the field to grab a mid-morning snack. The hens only stayed for a few minutes before walking to the woods across the field in front of me. If nothing else happened, I was more than content seeing all of the hens and hearing all of those gobbles.
It was nearing 9:30 in the morning which is usually about the time I pack it up and call it a day. I decided to let a few more yelps from my slate call go and immediately was answered by a number of gobbles. The gobbling was from a hill or two over and I thought nothing of it at the time.
At 10, I decided to let one more call go and then leave if there was no gobbling near me. Once again, there was a number of gobbles that followed my calling. This time much closer than the last set of gobbles. I ducked down so I could see past the pine branches in front of me and peered at an empty field. I thought for sure that those turkeys were close enough to be in the fields by now.
I gave myself another 15 minutes to see if any turkeys would show up. It was nearly 10:15 and I began to pack my calls up. As I leaned back to grab my slate call, I noticed some movement in the field to my left. Soon, I could pick out a group of four turkeys walking towards me. At the time I had forgotten the gobbling that had come from that direction and figured it was a group of hens.
I decided to call to them to see if they would gobble back. They did not respond and I had my mind set that I was watching some hens in the field. I pulled out my cell phone and began snapping photos of them. I checked the camera library to see if the pictures were clear enough to show other people. As I looked over the photos, I began to think that the hens were pretty big ones.
I pulled out my call again and let a few yelps out. This time, the group of “hens” popped their heads up and started to walk towards me. Maybe they aren’t hens after all…
The walking pace was not a quick one but the birds were still quickly cutting the distance between the five of us. 100 yards, 80 yards, 60 yards, 40 yards… They were now in range.
I peered at them, staring for a beard and not seeing anything began to let my body ease up. Three of the turkeys had separated themselves from the last one and were walking a few yards ahead. That is when I noticed a beard. Two. Three. They were all bearded turkeys!
They were pretty decent-sized birds and I was trying to pick out the biggest to decide if it was a suitable first ever turkey. The last turkey is the one that I determined as the biggest of the group of mature jakes. But was he big enough to shoot and call my first ever turkey?
At this point in time, I was being extremely picky. I had hunted eight years trying to harvest a turkey. Now I had four in range and was trying to determine if one was big enough for me. My selfishness got the best of me and I let the turkeys walk away after being within 20 yards.
They began to walk around the woods of pines I was situated in. They worked around a bend to the left of me and were soon out of my vision. That is when I began to second-guess myself. I had a chance to bag my first ever bird and I let all four of them walk. It was now do-or-die time now.
I grabbed my slate call again and began calling to try and call the group of birds back. Luckily, they all were interested in the call and started walking back towards my decoys. I kept calling and the birds kept coming. I found the biggest turkey again and waited for a clean shot. The turkeys did not cooperate this time and walked in with their heads all lined up. If I would have taken a shot, I might have hit more than one of them.
I patiently waited for the birds to separate. 30 yards, 20 yards, 10 yards. Still not separated. They are gonna walk right up to me! I began to shake, also known as turkey fever to my dad and hunting buddies, and my heart started to beat rapidly. I didn’t know if I could take this moment much longer.
Still not separated and the birds are within about 15 feet of me. Surely a shot taken at this time would result in multiple birds being hit by the immense amount of bb’s within my 20-gauge shell. I started to mutter under my breath; I hoped my words would somehow compel the turkeys to separate so I could take a shot. “Please separate. Come on. Please. Please. Please separate”. The turkeys did not separate and kept inching closer and closer. It was only a matter of seconds before the turkeys would spot me and fly off into the woods.
“Just one more step, come on!” This time my muttered words were a little louder, so much so that that turkey I had been looking to shoot heard me and popped his head up. The turkeys behind him did the same and were anxiously scanning the woods to figure out what had made that noise.
The lead long-beard began to lead the group of turkeys into the woods; however, the lead bird got a few steps ahead of the remaining three. 10 feet and closing… “Finally” I muttered to myself as I slowly began to squeeze the trigger. That is when one of the four turkeys spotted me and clucked once…
BANG! The lead turkey went down in a heap as the rest of the turkeys ran off into the woods. I had finally shot a turkey! At 6 feet, I executed a perfectly clean shot. When I got my hands on him, I realized that this once-“hen”, then affirmed long-beard was a very mature one, borderline young tom. He was close to 20 pounds and had a 5 and a half inch beard on him. Not a bad first turkey after all. Year 8 proved to be the lucky year for me.
I have attached a number of photos that I captured on my phone during my hunt. Check them out!
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