For many, many years, turkey hunting has been my favorite outdoor pursuit. Hunting big deer is in there, and tarpon on the fly is up there as well. But, I live year to year for turkey season. As the miles add up, every year becomes a concern on whether I still have it in me to hunt like I want to and in some places where it isn't a lot of fun to get in an out of. So, there were a lot of thoughts as I headed to turkey camp Friday night. I had never killed a bird on opening day, so there were zero expectations along those lines. I was just hopeful that the hills hadn't become too steep.
I parked the truck in my favorite spot the next morning and started getting ready to head down the hill. I have a tree overlooking a creek bottom that I've killed four gobblers leaning against. But, Someone had other plans for me on Saturday. In the black dark, an owl sounded off, and a turkey immediately gobbled. It was in an area I hadn't hunted, so, I didn't get too fired up. I was still going to my tree. But, the owl continued hooting, and the gobbler continued to get fired up. I finally said to heck with it and headed that way. About halfway there, I heard a gobble from where I normally get my "tree" action, and started to go back. But, it was starting to pink up, so I eased in and found a place to set up. He was roosted across a clear cut, and there was no way to really close the distance.
So, I sat there and enjoyed about 50 gobbles on the roost. A hen flew down into the clear cut, and I thought I might get lucky, but he flew down with hens the other way. As I waited to see what he might do, I thought how thankful I was to be out there on such a perfect spring morning. I've been dealing with a pretty heavy heart with the loss of our friend, and the 13th was also my Dad's birthday, and the day on which he died many years ago. So, a lot of rambling thoughts.
It became pretty apparent that he was down in a hardwood hollow with hens. He would answer and come about half way, but, wouldn't leave his hens. Finally I decided to see if I could ease over and play a little there. It was no fun getting across the clear cut that the loggers had left a mess in. By the time I got to the creek drain, he had stopped gobbling, so I suspected I had boogered him. But, I found a place to sit, and gave a call and did not hear a peep. A few minutes later a couple of hens appeared and clucked around a little and walked off. Still no gobbles, but I was happy with hearing a bird and getting at least an answer. My day was pretty complete.
Then, I see about five hens going up the other side of the hollow. And, behind them, there he was in full strut. For a minute, it looked like he was going to follow them and I wouldn't have a shot. But, he strutted up the point where the clucking hens had been. When he went behind a tree, I raked in the leaves with my foot and got an immediate gobble. He was in a strut at about 40 yds, and I waited to see if he would raise his head. A slight move of my boot in the leaves got the head to come up, and I pulled the trigger on a little popgun I put together last year but never got to use on one. He was a bang flop down the bank a couple of feet. I've killed bigger birds, but that two year old may be up there with the special ones.
He was big from the overabundance of mast we had, and wasn't a fun tote out of there. But, it got done, as well as a couple more hunts on Sunday and Monday in my usual haunts. I tell my cardiologist that I gauge my condition by how I can run those Stewart Co ridges and hollows. Looks like I am OK for a while longer. A very blessed day in a blessed place.
I parked the truck in my favorite spot the next morning and started getting ready to head down the hill. I have a tree overlooking a creek bottom that I've killed four gobblers leaning against. But, Someone had other plans for me on Saturday. In the black dark, an owl sounded off, and a turkey immediately gobbled. It was in an area I hadn't hunted, so, I didn't get too fired up. I was still going to my tree. But, the owl continued hooting, and the gobbler continued to get fired up. I finally said to heck with it and headed that way. About halfway there, I heard a gobble from where I normally get my "tree" action, and started to go back. But, it was starting to pink up, so I eased in and found a place to set up. He was roosted across a clear cut, and there was no way to really close the distance.
So, I sat there and enjoyed about 50 gobbles on the roost. A hen flew down into the clear cut, and I thought I might get lucky, but he flew down with hens the other way. As I waited to see what he might do, I thought how thankful I was to be out there on such a perfect spring morning. I've been dealing with a pretty heavy heart with the loss of our friend, and the 13th was also my Dad's birthday, and the day on which he died many years ago. So, a lot of rambling thoughts.
It became pretty apparent that he was down in a hardwood hollow with hens. He would answer and come about half way, but, wouldn't leave his hens. Finally I decided to see if I could ease over and play a little there. It was no fun getting across the clear cut that the loggers had left a mess in. By the time I got to the creek drain, he had stopped gobbling, so I suspected I had boogered him. But, I found a place to sit, and gave a call and did not hear a peep. A few minutes later a couple of hens appeared and clucked around a little and walked off. Still no gobbles, but I was happy with hearing a bird and getting at least an answer. My day was pretty complete.
Then, I see about five hens going up the other side of the hollow. And, behind them, there he was in full strut. For a minute, it looked like he was going to follow them and I wouldn't have a shot. But, he strutted up the point where the clucking hens had been. When he went behind a tree, I raked in the leaves with my foot and got an immediate gobble. He was in a strut at about 40 yds, and I waited to see if he would raise his head. A slight move of my boot in the leaves got the head to come up, and I pulled the trigger on a little popgun I put together last year but never got to use on one. He was a bang flop down the bank a couple of feet. I've killed bigger birds, but that two year old may be up there with the special ones.
He was big from the overabundance of mast we had, and wasn't a fun tote out of there. But, it got done, as well as a couple more hunts on Sunday and Monday in my usual haunts. I tell my cardiologist that I gauge my condition by how I can run those Stewart Co ridges and hollows. Looks like I am OK for a while longer. A very blessed day in a blessed place.
