Southern Sportsman
Well-Known Member
This is the first year my son (8) has been big/mature enough to have a realistic chance at killing a turkey the way I like to hunt them, so getting one for him has been heavy on my mind.
We hunted last Saturday at my granddad's old farm. Turkeys started showing up out there 5-6 years ago and I've killed a couple there over the years, but I really don't hunt it much. It's just 80 acres, most of which is fields, so it's not somewhere you can "go find one," and I have no desire to sit on a field edge and deer hunt for them. However, I'm sentimental, and I thought it would be really special if my son could kill his first turkey on the land his great-granddad bought during WWII, and where his granddad was raised. So that was Plan A. We had a good hunt last Saturday, but never threatened killing one that morning, so we were back at it this weekend.
The farm is split, with about half on the west side of the road and half on the east side. There has been a gobbler strutting in the west field 2-3 days per week, and that's where I planned to take him yesterday morning. We made it ~ 200 yards into our walk I before I realized I'd left his little monopod gun rest in the truck, so I sat him down to wait while I hustled back for it. I checked the time when I made it back to him to make sure we would still be early enough to get across a field without being seen. It was 5:13. I waived him on and started walking again, but he stopped me and said "I just heard one gobble over there," pointing to the east side of the farm. I was a little skeptical since it hadn't even started to break light yet, but he was adamant. So we crossed the road and walked 40-50 yards to a high point and I owled once. He gobbled back immediately, and he was roosted in a good place. It turned out to be 3 gobblers. They were roosted about 75 yards into the woods. We didn't set up quite even with them as I didn't want them walking in from behind if they decided to pitch straight down and walk to the field. We sat up with the turkeys 75 yards behind us (north) and 40 yards or so to our left (east), and we had a privet bush on our left shoulder to hide us from that direction. If they pitched straight to the filed, they would need to walk 10-15 yards towards us (west) along the field edge for a shot. My son fidgets a LOT, so I have to prioritize concealment over shooting lanes.
The turkeys gobbled great on the limb all morning, until just before fly-down. When day really started to break the gobbling died down, and I told my boy to get ready in case they pitched out in front of us. They almost did. The first bird to fly down was one of the gobblers. He sounded like a small airplane when he soared by, landing at 30 yards. We could see him standing there strutting through the privet bush, but there was no chance for a shot. He started to ease our way, until the hens came down. They landed all around him and walked SE away from us. The strutter drummed and gobbled from that spot a few times before falling in line behind the rest of the flock. There is a roll in the field such that all the turkeys dropped out of sight almost immediately, and I thought we were beat. After a half hour of sporadic ground gobbling, they worked their way farther out into the field. The ground gets flatter there, so we watched as their fans inched up above the roll until finally, they were in full view ~ 150 yards away. That's when I noticed . . . they were alone. The hens apparently moved back into the woods while out of sight. My son had my binoculars watching them strut when a LOUD hen started yelping and cutting from across the field to the south (neighbor's property). I wasn't exactly optimistic, but I couldn't just sit and watch them walk away without putting up a fight, so I started responding to the hen. Soft at first, but then she got more agitated and the gobblers started gobbling at her. So I ramped up the calling, which drove them nuts. The gobblers were all strutting, but would take turns raising their heads as high as they could to look in our direction. Very slowly, they started drifting back in our direction. They seemed to be moving about 100 yards per hour, but they were definitely getting closer.
Then we heard a squawk/yelp further to our right and looked to see a jake in the field roughly 60 yards away. He started towards us at a casual walking pace, and I asked my son if he wanted to shoot a jake or hold out for the gobblers. Before he made up his mind, one of the gobblers realized what was happening and apparently couldn't stand the thought of a jake beating him to the hen. Without breaking strut, he started in our direction with more urgency. The gobbler was coming from our 11 o'clock direction and the jake was coming from 2 o'clock. They met each other 40 yards in front of us. The gobbler postured and slapped the ground, but he never squared off with the interloper. They both turned and continued straight at us, walking as though they were trying to keep their heads as close together as possible. They were at 20 yards before separating enough for a shot. I am not skilled enough with the English language to describe the rush of emotions I felt when my son touched off his .410 and that turkey folded, but if you combined the excitement I've felt with every turkey I've ever killed, it wouldn't hold a candle to this one.
Then the other two gobblers ran in, stepped on, pecked, and gobbled at their fallen comrade (which my son thought was hilarious) before walking away, strutting and gobbling as they went.
I hope to meet them again. My 7 yr old daughter can't stand it that her brother killed a turkey and she hasn't yet, so she "made me" promise to take her now
^ That's my grandparents' old home place in the background.
We hunted last Saturday at my granddad's old farm. Turkeys started showing up out there 5-6 years ago and I've killed a couple there over the years, but I really don't hunt it much. It's just 80 acres, most of which is fields, so it's not somewhere you can "go find one," and I have no desire to sit on a field edge and deer hunt for them. However, I'm sentimental, and I thought it would be really special if my son could kill his first turkey on the land his great-granddad bought during WWII, and where his granddad was raised. So that was Plan A. We had a good hunt last Saturday, but never threatened killing one that morning, so we were back at it this weekend.
The farm is split, with about half on the west side of the road and half on the east side. There has been a gobbler strutting in the west field 2-3 days per week, and that's where I planned to take him yesterday morning. We made it ~ 200 yards into our walk I before I realized I'd left his little monopod gun rest in the truck, so I sat him down to wait while I hustled back for it. I checked the time when I made it back to him to make sure we would still be early enough to get across a field without being seen. It was 5:13. I waived him on and started walking again, but he stopped me and said "I just heard one gobble over there," pointing to the east side of the farm. I was a little skeptical since it hadn't even started to break light yet, but he was adamant. So we crossed the road and walked 40-50 yards to a high point and I owled once. He gobbled back immediately, and he was roosted in a good place. It turned out to be 3 gobblers. They were roosted about 75 yards into the woods. We didn't set up quite even with them as I didn't want them walking in from behind if they decided to pitch straight down and walk to the field. We sat up with the turkeys 75 yards behind us (north) and 40 yards or so to our left (east), and we had a privet bush on our left shoulder to hide us from that direction. If they pitched straight to the filed, they would need to walk 10-15 yards towards us (west) along the field edge for a shot. My son fidgets a LOT, so I have to prioritize concealment over shooting lanes.
The turkeys gobbled great on the limb all morning, until just before fly-down. When day really started to break the gobbling died down, and I told my boy to get ready in case they pitched out in front of us. They almost did. The first bird to fly down was one of the gobblers. He sounded like a small airplane when he soared by, landing at 30 yards. We could see him standing there strutting through the privet bush, but there was no chance for a shot. He started to ease our way, until the hens came down. They landed all around him and walked SE away from us. The strutter drummed and gobbled from that spot a few times before falling in line behind the rest of the flock. There is a roll in the field such that all the turkeys dropped out of sight almost immediately, and I thought we were beat. After a half hour of sporadic ground gobbling, they worked their way farther out into the field. The ground gets flatter there, so we watched as their fans inched up above the roll until finally, they were in full view ~ 150 yards away. That's when I noticed . . . they were alone. The hens apparently moved back into the woods while out of sight. My son had my binoculars watching them strut when a LOUD hen started yelping and cutting from across the field to the south (neighbor's property). I wasn't exactly optimistic, but I couldn't just sit and watch them walk away without putting up a fight, so I started responding to the hen. Soft at first, but then she got more agitated and the gobblers started gobbling at her. So I ramped up the calling, which drove them nuts. The gobblers were all strutting, but would take turns raising their heads as high as they could to look in our direction. Very slowly, they started drifting back in our direction. They seemed to be moving about 100 yards per hour, but they were definitely getting closer.
Then we heard a squawk/yelp further to our right and looked to see a jake in the field roughly 60 yards away. He started towards us at a casual walking pace, and I asked my son if he wanted to shoot a jake or hold out for the gobblers. Before he made up his mind, one of the gobblers realized what was happening and apparently couldn't stand the thought of a jake beating him to the hen. Without breaking strut, he started in our direction with more urgency. The gobbler was coming from our 11 o'clock direction and the jake was coming from 2 o'clock. They met each other 40 yards in front of us. The gobbler postured and slapped the ground, but he never squared off with the interloper. They both turned and continued straight at us, walking as though they were trying to keep their heads as close together as possible. They were at 20 yards before separating enough for a shot. I am not skilled enough with the English language to describe the rush of emotions I felt when my son touched off his .410 and that turkey folded, but if you combined the excitement I've felt with every turkey I've ever killed, it wouldn't hold a candle to this one.
Then the other two gobblers ran in, stepped on, pecked, and gobbled at their fallen comrade (which my son thought was hilarious) before walking away, strutting and gobbling as they went.
I hope to meet them again. My 7 yr old daughter can't stand it that her brother killed a turkey and she hasn't yet, so she "made me" promise to take her now
^ That's my grandparents' old home place in the background.
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