megalomaniac
Well-Known Member
I can't really say this bird was a season wrecker, because he has given me a TON of fun this year... I found him 2 weeks ago 600 yards off public on Desoto South.
Went in after him last Saturday at noon, set up on a finger ridge (10-15 ft elevation above the surrounding swamp). Did a sequence, about 15 minutes later he gave me a single gobble down in the bottom below 250y away. Played it coy for 2 hours, not another peep from him.
Went back the next day, but I accessed the bottom he gobbled in from the other side, again at noon. Miserable hike in, NASTY thick stuff the entire hike, and sat down where he gobbled from before and called. Waited 20 minutes, did another sequence. about 15 minutes after that, he gobbled from the finger ridge I was on the day before. Had a little conversation, and flipped his switch to overdrive. He came in gobbling and drumming 100% committed to die. Crossing diagonally, I had a tiny opening at 35y. When he hit it, I clucked, and he froze and periscoped, but head was behind a 3in woody brush trunk. I picked the next opening at 30 yards, but he got through it head bobbing and weaving before I could shoot. He ended up at 25 yards gobbling nonstop, but by then there was no shot (I couldn't even see his body in that thick crap). After 10 minutes of gobbling at 25 yards, he began to lose interest, and I hoped I could pick him off on his return trip, but just too thick to accomplish.
Confident he was not spooked, I repositioned a few times, but couldn't strike him again. I left knowing he would be safe if he stayed in that bottom until this weekend, unless he got killed on private.
Friday I headed in at 9a after a 24h work shift the day before. Spiderwebs across the bushes just off the parking spot, he hadn't been hunted past couple days. Only 150 yards in from the road, he free gobbled once. I sat with him for a couple hours, but not another peep, I figured he was with a hen, so headed off to try to find another bird.
I wanted to hunt him yesterday since he was so close to the road the day before, but a friend needed some help, so I went with him on his private ground. I called in 2 toms and 2 jakes to 25 yards, but they came up a rise in a food plot, and with the 10 in tall wheat, we could only see waddles and up, so couldn't tell which 2 of the 4 were the toms. I was hoping my public bird was roosted FAR away from the road.
This morning I went back after him. Got to the pull off at 545, drank coffee in the truck, noone else came in after. Hiked in 150 yards to where he gobbled Friday, spiderwebs on the path, he didn't get hunted yesterday, so I know he is still alive unless he got killed on private yesterday. 10m after gobble time, not a peep. Cloudy, but songbirds going nuts. Owled a couple times, nothing. I decided to work my way in the mile to the finger ridge above the swamp where I wanted to kill him once I could see without a headlamp. Took my time, got to the finger ridge and sat down. I made my first call at 7am, nothing. Called again 20m later... nothing. I had planned on a 3-4h sit, this was not a run and gun bird. Around 8a after my 3rd calling sequence, he gobbled 125 y away. Game on- earpro on, red dot on, gun up, dropped the pot and put in a mouth call. Not another word from him... called softly with the mouth call, no response. Waited 5 more minutes and got a little more aggressive with the mouth call... nothing. 5 minutes later I catch movement working down the ridge to me. Hen and 2 jakes. Tom has to be somewhere... Hen crosses at 5 yards and I pick up another jake... scanning frantically I spot the white head in front of the full fan backdrop at 17 yards. He works in, as I chocolate chip cookie the hammer, and make the final adjustment for the shot. He goes on alert I assume from the hen picking up my lining up the shot through the fine stemmed brush and the tom raises his head... too late. 15 yards, BANG. Dead.
One of my best birds from deep south MS... I'd guess around 19 lbs, a scotch over 1.25in spurs, and an 11.5in beard. The walk out of there with him over my shoulder sure was nice.
Another notch for the new 12g Stevens 301T and LB XRs.
Went in after him last Saturday at noon, set up on a finger ridge (10-15 ft elevation above the surrounding swamp). Did a sequence, about 15 minutes later he gave me a single gobble down in the bottom below 250y away. Played it coy for 2 hours, not another peep from him.
Went back the next day, but I accessed the bottom he gobbled in from the other side, again at noon. Miserable hike in, NASTY thick stuff the entire hike, and sat down where he gobbled from before and called. Waited 20 minutes, did another sequence. about 15 minutes after that, he gobbled from the finger ridge I was on the day before. Had a little conversation, and flipped his switch to overdrive. He came in gobbling and drumming 100% committed to die. Crossing diagonally, I had a tiny opening at 35y. When he hit it, I clucked, and he froze and periscoped, but head was behind a 3in woody brush trunk. I picked the next opening at 30 yards, but he got through it head bobbing and weaving before I could shoot. He ended up at 25 yards gobbling nonstop, but by then there was no shot (I couldn't even see his body in that thick crap). After 10 minutes of gobbling at 25 yards, he began to lose interest, and I hoped I could pick him off on his return trip, but just too thick to accomplish.
Confident he was not spooked, I repositioned a few times, but couldn't strike him again. I left knowing he would be safe if he stayed in that bottom until this weekend, unless he got killed on private.
Friday I headed in at 9a after a 24h work shift the day before. Spiderwebs across the bushes just off the parking spot, he hadn't been hunted past couple days. Only 150 yards in from the road, he free gobbled once. I sat with him for a couple hours, but not another peep, I figured he was with a hen, so headed off to try to find another bird.
I wanted to hunt him yesterday since he was so close to the road the day before, but a friend needed some help, so I went with him on his private ground. I called in 2 toms and 2 jakes to 25 yards, but they came up a rise in a food plot, and with the 10 in tall wheat, we could only see waddles and up, so couldn't tell which 2 of the 4 were the toms. I was hoping my public bird was roosted FAR away from the road.
This morning I went back after him. Got to the pull off at 545, drank coffee in the truck, noone else came in after. Hiked in 150 yards to where he gobbled Friday, spiderwebs on the path, he didn't get hunted yesterday, so I know he is still alive unless he got killed on private yesterday. 10m after gobble time, not a peep. Cloudy, but songbirds going nuts. Owled a couple times, nothing. I decided to work my way in the mile to the finger ridge above the swamp where I wanted to kill him once I could see without a headlamp. Took my time, got to the finger ridge and sat down. I made my first call at 7am, nothing. Called again 20m later... nothing. I had planned on a 3-4h sit, this was not a run and gun bird. Around 8a after my 3rd calling sequence, he gobbled 125 y away. Game on- earpro on, red dot on, gun up, dropped the pot and put in a mouth call. Not another word from him... called softly with the mouth call, no response. Waited 5 more minutes and got a little more aggressive with the mouth call... nothing. 5 minutes later I catch movement working down the ridge to me. Hen and 2 jakes. Tom has to be somewhere... Hen crosses at 5 yards and I pick up another jake... scanning frantically I spot the white head in front of the full fan backdrop at 17 yards. He works in, as I chocolate chip cookie the hammer, and make the final adjustment for the shot. He goes on alert I assume from the hen picking up my lining up the shot through the fine stemmed brush and the tom raises his head... too late. 15 yards, BANG. Dead.
One of my best birds from deep south MS... I'd guess around 19 lbs, a scotch over 1.25in spurs, and an 11.5in beard. The walk out of there with him over my shoulder sure was nice.
Another notch for the new 12g Stevens 301T and LB XRs.
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The cardinal sin of turkey hunting.
