Can't kill them from the bed.

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huvrman

huvrman

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Rolled over this morning at 4:40 and preemptively shut off my alarm. Just didn't feel like getting out. I rationalized I'd sleep in, and go out about 8 or 9 hoping to find a gobbler that was done with his hens and on the hunt. Well, as you all know, you just lay there and become more awake, and finally decide that if you are going to be awake, you might as well be in the woods. So, I got up at 5:45, got geared up, and stepped outside at 6. No sooner had I started walking to my spot, I hear one hammering on the ridge behind my house, not 100 yards away. So, I begin the climb up straight up the mountain to a logging road I know runs parallel to the ridge, at which point I'll hang a left and get above this bird. Halfway up I'm gassed, realizing my 30 year old mind is outpacing my 56 year old body. I just can't sprint up these mountains anymore. I began making plans for a call to 911 for either a heart attack or asthma attack. Either way, I began to drift into thoughts of wills and funeral arrangements. But then he gobbled again and snapped me back to reality. Finally making it to the logging road, he gobbled one more time then shut up. I headed to where I thought I was above him, found a nice tree with a natural blind of grapevines and sticks, and burrowed my way into the mess. I hit the box a couple of times, and waited. Then he hammered again, now only 70 or so yards away. He was coming. After a few minutes I saw a fan at 60 yards. He was hung up, just doing his strutting thing. Then he proceeded to head up the ridge to my right, which was not a good shooting position for me. I waited until he turned his back, and hit the slate with a few light yelps. That was enough. He turned, and headed my way, slowly walking and strutting along a bench that brought him to 25 yards. The rest is history. Out of the house at 6:00, in my hide at 6:20, gobbler down at 6:30. 10 inch beard, spurs just short of an inch, 22 pounds. Lesson for the day - "You can't kill them from the bed."
 

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Your right. I talked myself into staying in the bed this morning. Your making me regret it. Lol. Hard to get up sometimes. Congrats on a good hunt.
 
huvrman said:
Rolled over this morning at 4:40 and preemptively shut off my alarm. Just didn't feel like getting out. I rationalized I'd sleep in, and go out about 8 or 9 hoping to find a gobbler that was done with his hens and on the hunt. Well, as you all know, you just lay there and become more awake, and finally decide that if you are going to be awake, you might as well be in the woods. So, I got up at 5:45, got geared up, and stepped outside at 6. No sooner had I started walking to my spot, I hear one hammering on the ridge behind my house, not 100 yards away. So, I begin the climb up straight up the mountain to a logging road I know runs parallel to the ridge, at which point I'll hang a left and get above this bird. Halfway up I'm gassed, realizing my 30 year old mind is outpacing my 56 year old body. I just can't sprint up these mountains anymore. I began making plans for a call to 911 for either a heart attack or asthma attack. Either way, I began to drift into thoughts of wills and funeral arrangements. But then he gobbled again and snapped me back to reality. Finally making it to the logging road, he gobbled one more time then shut up. I headed to where I thought I was above him, found a nice tree with a natural blind of grapevines and sticks, and burrowed my way into the mess. I hit the box a couple of times, and waited. Then he hammered again, now only 70 or so yards away. He was coming. After a few minutes I saw a fan at 60 yards. He was hung up, just doing his strutting thing. Then he proceeded to head up the ridge to my right, which was not a good shooting position for me. I waited until he turned his back, and hit the slate with a few light yelps. That was enough. He turned, and headed my way, slowly walking and strutting along a bench that brought him to 25 yards. The rest is history. Out of the house at 6:00, in my hide at 6:20, gobbler down at 6:30. 10 inch beard, spurs just short of an inch, 22 pounds. Lesson for the day - "You can't kill them from the bed."
Click to expand...
Great Tom!
 
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Congrats on a great Turkey.

I know the feeling of wanting to roll over all too well. I dread the 70 mile drive and 2 mile walk with several creek crossings. I think I could manage to make it up the hill behind the house daily though! lol
 
huvrman said:
Rolled over this morning at 4:40 and preemptively shut off my alarm. Just didn't feel like getting out. I rationalized I'd sleep in, and go out about 8 or 9 hoping to find a gobbler that was done with his hens and on the hunt. Well, as you all know, you just lay there and become more awake, and finally decide that if you are going to be awake, you might as well be in the woods. So, I got up at 5:45, got geared up, and stepped outside at 6. No sooner had I started walking to my spot, I hear one hammering on the ridge behind my house, not 100 yards away. So, I begin the climb up straight up the mountain to a logging road I know runs parallel to the ridge, at which point I'll hang a left and get above this bird. Halfway up I'm gassed, realizing my 30 year old mind is outpacing my 56 year old body. I just can't sprint up these mountains anymore. I began making plans for a call to 911 for either a heart attack or asthma attack. Either way, I began to drift into thoughts of wills and funeral arrangements. But then he gobbled again and snapped me back to reality. Finally making it to the logging road, he gobbled one more time then shut up. I headed to where I thought I was above him, found a nice tree with a natural blind of grapevines and sticks, and burrowed my way into the mess. I hit the box a couple of times, and waited. Then he hammered again, now only 70 or so yards away. He was coming. After a few minutes I saw a fan at 60 yards. He was hung up, just doing his strutting thing. Then he proceeded to head up the ridge to my right, which was not a good shooting position for me. I waited until he turned his back, and hit the slate with a few light yelps. That was enough. He turned, and headed my way, slowly walking and strutting along a bench that brought him to 25 yards. The rest is history. Out of the house at 6:00, in my hide at 6:20, gobbler down at 6:30. 10 inch beard, spurs just short of an inch, 22 pounds. Lesson for the day - "You can't kill them from the bed."
Click to expand...
Awesome story and nice bird! I feel like I was there and as a 56 yo, been there..lol
 
huvrman said:
Halfway up I'm gassed, realizing my 30 year old mind is outpacing my 56 year old body. I just can't sprint up these mountains anymore. I began making plans for a call to 911 for either a heart attack or asthma attack. Either way, I began to drift into thoughts of wills and funeral arrangements.
Click to expand...

^^THAT^^ is hilarious, and I can wholeheartedly relate.

Congrats!
 
Very nice bird! I'm on my second year, still looking for my first. Is that a laser light and red dot on your gun?
 

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