Turkey Hunting
2014 Turkey Pics
4/11/14 @ 5:49 PM
Displaying 1 to 15 of 58 posts
2014 fall turkey
Never shot a hen or had any interest but couldn't resist this one. Had about 30 within shooting distance and some within 10' of me and my Boykin, who was quivering the whole time in anticipation. Several 2 year old toms mixed in but no real long beards, otherwise I probably would have just taken one of them.
7 1/2" beard
My son's 1st turkey season. 17lbs 5"beard.
I bought him a tag for the last season. Wednesday afternoon we were walking out and a big tom was standing in a field looking at us and he didn't see it until it was running away and out of range. I told him you need to slow down and be looking ahead. We watched a hen roost near us that night. Thur and Fri after work hunts we saw bird but no shots. Saturday am I get him up at 4am, we get set-up at 4:40 and heard gobbles 1/2 mile away, nothing close. After it was light I hit the calls and nothing. He starts patting his pockets and says he forgot the tag! I said time to go. He was upset but I don't risk that kind of thing. I took a nap and at 9:30 we headed out. I told him again to be watching especially when rounding a corner or hilltop. Walking in we rounded a corner and I was watching him...looking down at his feet. About 25yards ahead there's about 10 jakes running into each other looking at us. I tap his shoulder and say shoot one, they're all toms. By the time he got the gun up there was only 2 left on the trail and he got this one. It was a great season and he learned alot.
"Ladies First"
The other morning I ghosted down a treeline on an old cut cornfield in the predawn darkness after placing my buddy's 16 year old son next to a box elder grove poking out into the field. These public land birds had been hunted hard so I told myself no calling. But I'm a bad listener, or so my wife says. I let out two soft tree yelps and a gobbler responded closer than I could have imagined. I waited 2 minutes then aggressively flapped my hat while simulating an excited fly down cackle. It was all the old boy could take. He broke from the hens in the tree and flew right into my lap. He was a wise old bird with a 9 3/4 inch beard and 1 1/8 spurs, one of which was busted half off undoubtedly from teaching some of the younger upstarts a lesson in the sweet science of fighting and the sweeter art of breeding. I could see his wheels spinning when he touched down and saw there was no hen to be had. As he quickly turned to abort mission I swear I watched his face turn red from embarrassment when he realized he was the one who had been had. A 3 inch load of 6 shot reminded him of his fatal mistake; Ladies First.
"Play Dead Bird"
I had just tagged my bird and dragged him back to the wood line. I texted my buddy's 16 year old son who I had placed further down the field early that morning. We agreed I would quickly work my way back to him to call. After making it about 20 yards closer, a second gobbler pitched down into the field nearly over head. All I could do was drop to the ground, gracefully I thought, but the gobbler thought otherwise. He took off down the field edge back toward my hunting partners gun. Just before he was in range, he did a head fake and cut into the woods. Before I could move a muscle the sky above me blackened with 6 more turkeys pitching down into the cornfield.
There I was laying with my feet into the field and my torso tilted back into the sloped, brushy wood line. I had a sharp stick poking my liver. Fortunately it didn't hurt as bad as it should. All my blood was rushing to my head from the unnatural incline cut by the river a few feet from my head. Yet I could faintly hear the rain swollen creek above maddening buzz of mosquitoes which had gleefully found my now blood swollen face. But I couldn't move. I didn't want to ruin the boy's hunt.
It took me 20 minutes to find my phone which I safely stowed in one of my 38 pockets in my turkey vest. The whole time the turkeys were 20 yards away, alternating between feeding and staring at the the cloud of mosquitoes circling the freak laying on a sharp stick. I finally texted the unlucky hunter and told him I needed to get up. His response, "Just lay there". I told him I needed to get up.
Forty minutes later I had found a happy place. I had come to peace with the winged bloodsuckers natural urge to feed. I had discovered satisfaction and a small sense of pride in realizing that my doctor was wrong after all. The tough, hardened, fatty liver I had earned offers protection from sharp objects; and hence can be be a good thing. I had my bird, and I thought I may have seen some blue sky beyond the cloud of flying leeches circling my face. Life was good.
A spider the size of a quarter looks as big as a silver dollar when it is sitting on your eye. You don't really feel their legs across your face either. They are just there, and a second later...gone! But...gone to where? It's in my head net and I didn't see it dance across my other eye. I had no shame in flailing like a girl trying to rip off my face mask. I had no guilt in telling the boy his hunt was over. His response via text "Can't you just play dead?" What the heck does think I've been doing for the last 60 minutes? Kids these days have no appreciation for the sacrifices we adults make. Just play dead?!?
Funny thing happened while I was doing my Little Miss Muffet's arachnophobic uncle impersonation; The turkeys started moving off. Not that spastic I don't know which way to run so I will run myself inside out by changing directions every half second kinda of running. More like I'm annoyed and bored with with this titanium-livered, blood depleted freak laying in our field. I took this opportunity to text my heartless and ever patient mentee that "I nudged them your way".
They got close to his waiting gun...but then decided to come back and see if, rather than just playing, I had actually graduated to dead. He texted back "Nudge them again". I shook a branch and wiggled my bent knee sticking up into the cornfield. They started coming back closer to me. Dumb birds must have thought my knee was their dead friend I had shot earlier and had now arranged as a natural feathered pillow under my head. I shook the branch again and they started moving his way again. Through my binoculars I saw they had changed directions again and took a hard left out into the field to the edge of the scrub box elders. I texted "The jig is up". But then they did a button hook back toward patient and comfortable youth. I watched a nervous jake initiate a stand off at 60 yards through my bino's when a piano fell on his head. Then I heard the shot. My reanimated body rose from the dead and shuffled zombie-like towards the elated and patient hunter.
My 12 year old shot his first gobbler Sunday of youth season. He was antsy to get out on Saturday but had a Boy Scout camp out and spent the day teaching Cub Scouts how to fish. He got up with no problems at 4 am but got a little sleepy in the blind when none of the 7 birds we heard around us gobbling in the roost came our way after fly down.
At about 6:30 I saw a black blur streak into view from my right. Ralph the Barnyard Thunder Chicken ninja'd up to our full strut decoy mounted on a hen and was about to spoil the dekes happy ending. Ralph had second thoughts at the last minute and swerved in full sprint further out into the field. I thought we may have lost our chance, but as I was waking my son up and trying to get him to snap out of his daze and get into position, Ralph decided to pull a button hook and come back for another look. My boy dropped him at 30 yards.
Ralph was a fighter. He had a broken tail feather, ratty 8 1/4 inch beard and looked like he had been through the dryer. Another morning I will cherish in Waukesha county.
Displaying 1 to 15 of 58 posts
