Before you dive deep into the story below, I would like to preface it by saying this story probably isn’t going to be short. I’m a bit long winded in person, and when I sit down to write a story, I feel the whole thing has to be told to fully appreciate the tale as a whole. With that being said, this is the story of my 2014 spring turkey season.
This story really begins in 2012, when I went on my first ever turkey hunt with Jesse. Growing up, I hunted grouse, squirrel, and deer with dad, but he never did any turkey hunting, so there was never much of a desire there to learn. As I grew older, and my passion for the outdoors grew, I began looking to fill the everlasting void between deer seasons. There was a farm out home that Jesse and I both had permission on, and it was full of turkey, so I decided to tag along with Jesse for a hunt. We got a bit of a late start, but we snuck down the old road that split the property in two, listening for birds to gobble. It wasn’t long before we heard several birds off in the distance, so we picked up the pace and got set up in the corner of an ag field. We barely had time to get set up before the birds were right on top of us. Not five minutes into our set, three birds popped out of the woodline not ten steps away! We were expecting the birds to pop out on an old logging road a bit further out, so to say we were caught a bit off guard was an understatement. Jesse took aim and shot clean over the lead turkey. I waited for a second shot, but there was nothing but silence. You see, in gathering things up for the night before, Jesse somehow forgot to pack shells, and all he could muster up was one, and who knows where that one came from.
Five minutes into out hunt, we were done. The birds were very vocal that morning, and we ended up getting within 75 yards of another bird that was in his strut zone, all puffed out and pacing back and forth, gobbling every few minutes. That day had me hooked, I wanted to give this turkey hunting thing a try. I spent half a dozen mornings in 2012 chasing birds with a single mouth call and a hen decoy, with no luck. Patience and lack of experience got the best of me that year. I had no idea what I was doing, but I was determined to try and figure this turkey hunting out. It sure was fun to hear those birds gobble and to watch them strut about.
Spring of 2013 came, and I was excited to get out and try again. I had picked up a few new calls, and a nice foldable foam hen decoy, and I was ready to rock. I hunted nearly every morning the first week and had encounters with birds, but never within range. Due to my lack of experience and impatience, I boogered up several hunts where, looking back, I probably could have had shots at a bird. My first kill came the second week of the season. I had set up earlier that morning on a field edge, but the birds had worked off in the opposite direction, so I decided to head back for the house. As I was walking out to the shed to change out of my hunting stuff, I heard a bird gobble back towards the end of the field not 300 yards away. I decided to sneak up the field edge and see if I could get an eye on this turkey. I managed to sneak within 100 yards of the tom, keeping the crest of the hill between him and I. Once I got close enough to the crest, I took a peak and saw this bird all fanned out with three hens. I tried a little calling, but the hens were working the opposite direction. I tried crawling through the tall grass to close the gap, but quickly realized I was wasting my time.
Knowing how the field laid and the directions the birds were traveling, I decided to slip down over the hill and haul ass to the other end of the ridge. As I reached the end of the ridge, I slowly crept up the point and crawled to a downed log at the top of the ridge. I took a quick peak over the log to see the tree hens 50 yards out. About that time, the tom popped out from behind a huge oak. There was no calling, no questioning, I pulled the gun up and shot. My first turkey was laying there flopping on the ground. He was a good two year old bird, and I was proud of my first turkey kill, but I didn’t get that excitement I was hoping for. I didn’t feel that accomplished with my kill, other than the fact that I had just harvested my first bird. I wanted to call a bird in and kill it, and I knew that was going to be the only way I would find out if I was going to be hooked on turkey hunting or not.
This turkey season came around, and I found myself off for opening morning. I had spent the previous three nights roosting birds in a spot I knew they frequented. The night before the opener, I snuck up a creek bottom and watched two toms fly up to their roosts. I was excited for another year chasing turkeys, and hoping I would finally have a chance to call a bird in. The first morning, I was up and in the woods by 5am, set up on the ridge above where the turkeys were roosted. As the sun started to light up the morning sky, I had two birds gobbling straight ahead of me, and one off to my distant left. There were also several hens between both groups of gobbling birds. When they flew down, I had quick glances at two toms just over the crest of the hill, too far to shoot and not enough of the bird showing to know that I was shooting at. I’m not sure if my calling pushed them away, or if they just wanted to be on the next hill over, but they slowly worked that way. My morning was over, as I had errands I needed to run, so I headed back to the house.
Tuesday morning the rain came, and I didn’t end up making it out. I had to head back to work that night, and didn’t plan on hunting Wednesday, but the weather was looking good, and I had a feeling, so I left work early and headed for the woods. I set up on the same hilltop as Monday morning, only I moved 20 yards or so further towards the edge of the ridge where the birds were roosting. As the sun made its morning appearance, the birds began to sound off. This morning, I had three toms off to my right, not 80 yards away, and a single tom off to my left a good ways out. I called a bit and got responses from two of the four birds, so I shut up. I was late getting to the woods, so I did not set out my decoy that morning. The sun crept higher in the sky, and the hens came alive, four of them directly ahead of me, things were looking good. The hens pitched down just out of sight, and all four toms followed suit. I had seven birds just out of my sight straight ahead and two more gobbling birds working towards me.
Things got quiet for a few minutes, and then a hen popped up over the hill and worked off to my right. As I watched her working toward the field edge, one, then two, then three toms crested the hill to my right to put on a show for that solo hen. All three toms were all fanned out and strutting, but I couldn’t get their attention off that single hen. She ended up working out of sight and they followed. I still had three toms and three hens over the hill ahead of me as well, so I sat tight. Ten minutes passed, and the hen to my right came back through, but where were the toms she dragged off earlier? It took a while, but the eventually made their way back into sight. I yelped a few times and that was all it took. The lead tom stepped into an opening at 35 yards, and I sent a shot down range, knocking him flat on his back. He didn’t get back up. Birds were running and scattering everywhere. I didn’t care, I was on my feet fist pumping, my heart racing, I was hooked. This bird had a 10” beard and ¾” spurs, and weighed 19lbs, not a huge or old bird, but one I was proud to take.
To Be Continued...
This story really begins in 2012, when I went on my first ever turkey hunt with Jesse. Growing up, I hunted grouse, squirrel, and deer with dad, but he never did any turkey hunting, so there was never much of a desire there to learn. As I grew older, and my passion for the outdoors grew, I began looking to fill the everlasting void between deer seasons. There was a farm out home that Jesse and I both had permission on, and it was full of turkey, so I decided to tag along with Jesse for a hunt. We got a bit of a late start, but we snuck down the old road that split the property in two, listening for birds to gobble. It wasn’t long before we heard several birds off in the distance, so we picked up the pace and got set up in the corner of an ag field. We barely had time to get set up before the birds were right on top of us. Not five minutes into our set, three birds popped out of the woodline not ten steps away! We were expecting the birds to pop out on an old logging road a bit further out, so to say we were caught a bit off guard was an understatement. Jesse took aim and shot clean over the lead turkey. I waited for a second shot, but there was nothing but silence. You see, in gathering things up for the night before, Jesse somehow forgot to pack shells, and all he could muster up was one, and who knows where that one came from.
Five minutes into out hunt, we were done. The birds were very vocal that morning, and we ended up getting within 75 yards of another bird that was in his strut zone, all puffed out and pacing back and forth, gobbling every few minutes. That day had me hooked, I wanted to give this turkey hunting thing a try. I spent half a dozen mornings in 2012 chasing birds with a single mouth call and a hen decoy, with no luck. Patience and lack of experience got the best of me that year. I had no idea what I was doing, but I was determined to try and figure this turkey hunting out. It sure was fun to hear those birds gobble and to watch them strut about.
Spring of 2013 came, and I was excited to get out and try again. I had picked up a few new calls, and a nice foldable foam hen decoy, and I was ready to rock. I hunted nearly every morning the first week and had encounters with birds, but never within range. Due to my lack of experience and impatience, I boogered up several hunts where, looking back, I probably could have had shots at a bird. My first kill came the second week of the season. I had set up earlier that morning on a field edge, but the birds had worked off in the opposite direction, so I decided to head back for the house. As I was walking out to the shed to change out of my hunting stuff, I heard a bird gobble back towards the end of the field not 300 yards away. I decided to sneak up the field edge and see if I could get an eye on this turkey. I managed to sneak within 100 yards of the tom, keeping the crest of the hill between him and I. Once I got close enough to the crest, I took a peak and saw this bird all fanned out with three hens. I tried a little calling, but the hens were working the opposite direction. I tried crawling through the tall grass to close the gap, but quickly realized I was wasting my time.
Knowing how the field laid and the directions the birds were traveling, I decided to slip down over the hill and haul ass to the other end of the ridge. As I reached the end of the ridge, I slowly crept up the point and crawled to a downed log at the top of the ridge. I took a quick peak over the log to see the tree hens 50 yards out. About that time, the tom popped out from behind a huge oak. There was no calling, no questioning, I pulled the gun up and shot. My first turkey was laying there flopping on the ground. He was a good two year old bird, and I was proud of my first turkey kill, but I didn’t get that excitement I was hoping for. I didn’t feel that accomplished with my kill, other than the fact that I had just harvested my first bird. I wanted to call a bird in and kill it, and I knew that was going to be the only way I would find out if I was going to be hooked on turkey hunting or not.
This turkey season came around, and I found myself off for opening morning. I had spent the previous three nights roosting birds in a spot I knew they frequented. The night before the opener, I snuck up a creek bottom and watched two toms fly up to their roosts. I was excited for another year chasing turkeys, and hoping I would finally have a chance to call a bird in. The first morning, I was up and in the woods by 5am, set up on the ridge above where the turkeys were roosted. As the sun started to light up the morning sky, I had two birds gobbling straight ahead of me, and one off to my distant left. There were also several hens between both groups of gobbling birds. When they flew down, I had quick glances at two toms just over the crest of the hill, too far to shoot and not enough of the bird showing to know that I was shooting at. I’m not sure if my calling pushed them away, or if they just wanted to be on the next hill over, but they slowly worked that way. My morning was over, as I had errands I needed to run, so I headed back to the house.
Tuesday morning the rain came, and I didn’t end up making it out. I had to head back to work that night, and didn’t plan on hunting Wednesday, but the weather was looking good, and I had a feeling, so I left work early and headed for the woods. I set up on the same hilltop as Monday morning, only I moved 20 yards or so further towards the edge of the ridge where the birds were roosting. As the sun made its morning appearance, the birds began to sound off. This morning, I had three toms off to my right, not 80 yards away, and a single tom off to my left a good ways out. I called a bit and got responses from two of the four birds, so I shut up. I was late getting to the woods, so I did not set out my decoy that morning. The sun crept higher in the sky, and the hens came alive, four of them directly ahead of me, things were looking good. The hens pitched down just out of sight, and all four toms followed suit. I had seven birds just out of my sight straight ahead and two more gobbling birds working towards me.
Things got quiet for a few minutes, and then a hen popped up over the hill and worked off to my right. As I watched her working toward the field edge, one, then two, then three toms crested the hill to my right to put on a show for that solo hen. All three toms were all fanned out and strutting, but I couldn’t get their attention off that single hen. She ended up working out of sight and they followed. I still had three toms and three hens over the hill ahead of me as well, so I sat tight. Ten minutes passed, and the hen to my right came back through, but where were the toms she dragged off earlier? It took a while, but the eventually made their way back into sight. I yelped a few times and that was all it took. The lead tom stepped into an opening at 35 yards, and I sent a shot down range, knocking him flat on his back. He didn’t get back up. Birds were running and scattering everywhere. I didn’t care, I was on my feet fist pumping, my heart racing, I was hooked. This bird had a 10” beard and ¾” spurs, and weighed 19lbs, not a huge or old bird, but one I was proud to take.
To Be Continued...