I killed bird # 1 on a fairly uneventful hunt strait off the roost, less than 15 minutes after flydown. Luckily my second hunt was quite a bit more exciting.
As I slipped through the moonlit path in the mountain laurel to my listening spot, I was deafened by the chorus of whip-poor-will. They were so loud I was worried I couldn't hear a gobble.
This particular piece there's never any rhyme or reason as to where they roost so I just head to the middle and wait. Not long after the first crow called three gobbles echoed down the holler and just like that I was up the ridge. Based on where they were roosted I knew where they were going to strut first.
Unfortunately I couldn't get there in time to beat them to it. They pitched to a bench on the side of the ridge so I rolled the dice and set up about 80 yards above them on a small flat. However they weren't interested and made a line for the larger higher flat they like better. I moved a little closer to them and made another fruitless attempt.
The gobbles were suddenly 200 yards further away. I dashed up to the spot they had most recently been gobbling from and sent them a few calls. It wasn't long until the gobbles were closer.
A hen randomly pitched down around 8:00 and began feeding towards me but she somehow picked me off from 60 yards or so. She putted a couple times and I putted back. She calmed down but changed her direction and decended below the ridge line.
There was a bird hammering 100 yards down the ridge however I saw a blood red head peek over the crest about 45 yards out. He topped the ridge an stood for a while looking for me but kept a decent amount of brush between us and I knew the .410 didn't have enough meanness to get the job done under those circumstances.
He lingered for ten minutes or so but eventually dropped back down to his hen. For a while I could hear them scratching, but they eventually walked out of earshot and in the meantime that other gobbler had made his way to the most prominent knob on the place and was losing his mind, gobbling every other breath.
I wasted no time cutting a big loop, zigging to the head of the massive holler then zagging back to the knob, side hilling the whole way. As I got as close as I dared to the top of the knob I waited for the next gobble. I thought I could hear footsteps about 60 yards away over the crest of the hill.
This was confirmed by a set of double gobbles. I spied the tree I needed to get to and plopped down. I knew the bird was as ripe as they get so I dug out the wingbone I made and told him a few lies.I barely had time to set it down when I saw two blood red heads bobbing and weaving down the ridge to me all while trying to out gobble each other on their way. I had cocked the hammer as they topped the ridge and sized them up looking down the barrel as they came to a halt at 15 yards. It was an easy choice to pick this bird. He ripped one last gobble as I touched off the gun and down he went. His buddy flogged him a few times and left to gobble endlessly on the next knob over.
It's bittersweet everytime I kill a turkey for I love the hunt however this one was especially hard as ive gotten used to taking four birds each season for most of my turkey hunting career.. But on the bright side I plan to spend more time in the woods with friends and family with them behind the gun, which I'm finding is more rewarding than doing it myself anyways. Thanks for reading and good luck to all those still chasing thunder!
As I slipped through the moonlit path in the mountain laurel to my listening spot, I was deafened by the chorus of whip-poor-will. They were so loud I was worried I couldn't hear a gobble.
This particular piece there's never any rhyme or reason as to where they roost so I just head to the middle and wait. Not long after the first crow called three gobbles echoed down the holler and just like that I was up the ridge. Based on where they were roosted I knew where they were going to strut first.
Unfortunately I couldn't get there in time to beat them to it. They pitched to a bench on the side of the ridge so I rolled the dice and set up about 80 yards above them on a small flat. However they weren't interested and made a line for the larger higher flat they like better. I moved a little closer to them and made another fruitless attempt.
The gobbles were suddenly 200 yards further away. I dashed up to the spot they had most recently been gobbling from and sent them a few calls. It wasn't long until the gobbles were closer.
A hen randomly pitched down around 8:00 and began feeding towards me but she somehow picked me off from 60 yards or so. She putted a couple times and I putted back. She calmed down but changed her direction and decended below the ridge line.
There was a bird hammering 100 yards down the ridge however I saw a blood red head peek over the crest about 45 yards out. He topped the ridge an stood for a while looking for me but kept a decent amount of brush between us and I knew the .410 didn't have enough meanness to get the job done under those circumstances.
He lingered for ten minutes or so but eventually dropped back down to his hen. For a while I could hear them scratching, but they eventually walked out of earshot and in the meantime that other gobbler had made his way to the most prominent knob on the place and was losing his mind, gobbling every other breath.
I wasted no time cutting a big loop, zigging to the head of the massive holler then zagging back to the knob, side hilling the whole way. As I got as close as I dared to the top of the knob I waited for the next gobble. I thought I could hear footsteps about 60 yards away over the crest of the hill.
This was confirmed by a set of double gobbles. I spied the tree I needed to get to and plopped down. I knew the bird was as ripe as they get so I dug out the wingbone I made and told him a few lies.I barely had time to set it down when I saw two blood red heads bobbing and weaving down the ridge to me all while trying to out gobble each other on their way. I had cocked the hammer as they topped the ridge and sized them up looking down the barrel as they came to a halt at 15 yards. It was an easy choice to pick this bird. He ripped one last gobble as I touched off the gun and down he went. His buddy flogged him a few times and left to gobble endlessly on the next knob over.
It's bittersweet everytime I kill a turkey for I love the hunt however this one was especially hard as ive gotten used to taking four birds each season for most of my turkey hunting career.. But on the bright side I plan to spend more time in the woods with friends and family with them behind the gun, which I'm finding is more rewarding than doing it myself anyways. Thanks for reading and good luck to all those still chasing thunder!
