And one for the guide himself...
05-23-2008, 02:02 PM
#1
Nontypical Buck
Thread Starter
Join Date: Nov 2006
Location: Where the ducks don't come no more
Posts: 4,420
And one for the guide himself...
After spending the season playing host, I decided to save the last three days of the season just for your's truely. Color me selfish but usually by the time I start taking people I've tagged out, if not at least shot one bird. Thankful though I was and still am to have hunted successfully with my two favorite people, I kinda wanted to lay one out myself.
I got off work on Wednesday and headed to the hunt club. Thursday morning I hunted the big farm that I am so familiar with from having hunted there almost my entire life. That morning was totally uneventful. I walked the entire back of the property, never saw a bird, heard a bird, or heck never even saw much fresh sign. As I was walking out, I came upon a piece of road that runs down to a creek bottom, leading from a tall winter wheat field (still green in wheat) to the creek where another hill runs up to an other road and on into some 30 year old pines. This was the only spot I'd seen any gobbler sign with consitancy during the early part of the season, and with it having rained two days prior, the tracks in the damp mud of what looked to be a right good size gobbler made me think about the afternoon. I packed it in for the morning and went back to the hunt club to eat lunch, play with the dog and read my book in the sun before taking a nap (I'm a pretty casual guy).
On the ride back, I thought about the situation I was in. I've never shot a bird later than about 1130 in my life. Infact, its only been the last two or three years that Virginia has allowed hunters to pursue gobblers later than 12pm during the final two weeks of the 6 week season. I thought about it hard, and I knew that the tracks I'd seen were the same bird twice and that based on the evidence of rain drops in one set, he must have not traveled that piece of road yet that day, as one set was clearly not from that morning. I decided to head back that around 3pm.
After a nice nap in the hammock, a tuna melt and soup lunch, and letting my swamp collie roll in the swamp and take a swim, I shouldered up my widowmaker and fold out ground blind (not a pop up tent, just 20" fabric on stakes), along with a book and a bush axe and set off to wait him out. Knowing that if I got an opportunity it would be a pretty close shot, I decided to carry my Beretta 390 (which uses a Jellyhead and Rem Premier High Velocity 3" Copper plated 6s). Its normally the gun I let Rebecca shoot for turkeys, but I thought I'd bring it along since there was a chance of rain, and rain, scopes and hot humid weather don't mix real well.
Based on the tracks, I set up so the bird would come in front of me and have to walk past my decoy in order to pass me on the road. I brought my bi-pod along with me so I could use my hands to turn the pages of my book while still having my gun in a semi-ready position should the bird show up. I didn't antipate him gobbling much if any. I set the decoy all by herself up in the road 30 yards from me. There were two thigh thick pines about a foot apart ten yards in front of me and I had a decent view of the decoy in between them where she stood 20 yards more.
I took out the slate call and strapped on the Freak and ran a short 3-4 note series of yelps. Silence. I opened my book and was perfectly content sitting in the shade reading. I was expecting a call from Rebecca at about 530-545pm when she got off work, as she was planning on heading out to hunt the next day and was coming in that night. To minimize movement, I set the phone on top of my Woodhaven call topper, and had that on top of my gore-tex rain jacket, as there was some rain/thumderstorms forecasted for that evening.
I clucked every ten minutes or two a few times and about twice an hour I'd yelp a bit, but mostly I was silent and patient.
At 540 or so, I heard a noise in the cutover behind me that was what I call a "big noise". Not like a tree falling or jet engine big noise, but a footstep or something similar in the leaves made by a larger animal... not a rabbit or a songbird. I slowly closed my book and put my hand on my gun. Whatever it was, I could hear it walking, and I'm a deaf duck hunter so it must have been inside 30 yards if not closer. Then I heard what I thought was a hen putt.. once, twice, three, four, five. I noticed it was deeper than a hen putt, and it wasn't running away, but the sound was much more content. It was a cluck, not a putt and I let my breath out slowly. A long minute passed, and the bird started clucking again, and let out about ten such clucks when I heard a gobbler sound off across the road up on the hill. All I could think was crap that bird came through around noon before I got here and is already up on the hill where he will no doubt roost. I started second guessing my set up and so on, thinking of course that he was gobbling to the hen.
As my luck goes, thats about the time Rebecca called me on the telephone. I of course had it on vibrate, but sitting atop that call topper and the rain coat, it may of well been sitting on a snare drum. I thought that may spook the hen, but she just kept on clucking happily, working her way out to the road.
I heard her walking and when I guess she made it to the road she stopped. She must have stood silently for a moment staring at the widow maker. Thats when I heard it. The noise that save a gobble will make a turkey hunters hackles stand on end. The deep bass sound a bird makes as he strutts as hard as he can. Then I heard it again, the familiar "TSSSSSSSP..... WHUMMMMMMMMM". And it was getting closer. I cut my eyes as hard as I could, which made me see double as if I were crosseyed. Slowly, like the shade from a high overhead cloud blacking out the sun, the bird strutted into my view... walking slowly up the road toward the decoy, and not 10 steps from where I sat.
This was pretty handy of course, because my gun was pointed on the far side of the decoy, and if you think a move will break the deal when a bird is at 30 yards.... try it out at 10 and see what you get. He walked up the road and came out of strutt somewhat and went into almost a relaxed strutt. He circled the decoy once and as he did I realized a new problem.... those damn pine trees. I managed the slide the bipod in towards me, dropping it free of the gun and shifted myself slightly as the bird walked around the decoy a second time, he walked in front of her and I clicked off the safety and bore down on the gun. He lifted his head and stopped walking. I don't honestly think he thought anything of, it was likely just a conicidence. He was directly behind the decoy, facing the opposite way of it. Widowmakes ain't exactly cheap at $100 a unit retail, and while I may get a nice discount on stuff because of what I do for a living, I wasn't really eager to tear up something if I didn't have to. At the same time, I was a bit nervous the bird might have made the set up, especially after circling twice with no response from the hen. I put the bead on the front of his beak, rather than on the caruncles as usual and touched off the shot. The bird went down like I'd electrocuted him and the first thing I remember seeing besides the bird going poof was my widowmaker spinning like a pin wheel on her stake. Well.... all the other decoys I own have pellet holes in them.... welcome to the club old girl.
The bird never so much as twitched, and I had the courtesy to return Rebeccas phone call as I went out to survey the damage. He was 32 yards from where I sat and was definately the same bird that had been traveling the road... although he wasn't as big as his feet made him seem. He had what almost looked like a plantars wart on his left middle toe, and his right foot was noticably swollen in the middle pad. Perhaps wounds from spurring with other turkeys. And he had a nice set of spurs as well.
The bird weighed about what most four year old birds weigh after a spring of hard duty, around 18.5 or 19#s. His beard was 11 1/2" long and he sported a nice pair of jet black, sharp 1 3/8" spurs.
The widowmaker has offically been renamed"Collateral" as in 'Collateral Damage,' and is entertaining employment offers from the Secret Service in the off season. I stopped counting at 30 pellet holes.... 21 of which were right slam in her head.... I guess I misjudged the angle a bit (and reflecting on it I did have to shoot right slam passed her head to get to him.... but I don't use it cause its pretty.... I use it cause it works). Some of the copper plated #6s actually stuck in the plastic of the body, and you can see them clearly in the sun.... kind of a nice conversation piece if you ask me.
And the best for last... you can clearly see one of the pellets down in the breast feathers/plastic. All those black spots on her head neck and beak... yep those areholes.
I got off work on Wednesday and headed to the hunt club. Thursday morning I hunted the big farm that I am so familiar with from having hunted there almost my entire life. That morning was totally uneventful. I walked the entire back of the property, never saw a bird, heard a bird, or heck never even saw much fresh sign. As I was walking out, I came upon a piece of road that runs down to a creek bottom, leading from a tall winter wheat field (still green in wheat) to the creek where another hill runs up to an other road and on into some 30 year old pines. This was the only spot I'd seen any gobbler sign with consitancy during the early part of the season, and with it having rained two days prior, the tracks in the damp mud of what looked to be a right good size gobbler made me think about the afternoon. I packed it in for the morning and went back to the hunt club to eat lunch, play with the dog and read my book in the sun before taking a nap (I'm a pretty casual guy).
On the ride back, I thought about the situation I was in. I've never shot a bird later than about 1130 in my life. Infact, its only been the last two or three years that Virginia has allowed hunters to pursue gobblers later than 12pm during the final two weeks of the 6 week season. I thought about it hard, and I knew that the tracks I'd seen were the same bird twice and that based on the evidence of rain drops in one set, he must have not traveled that piece of road yet that day, as one set was clearly not from that morning. I decided to head back that around 3pm.
After a nice nap in the hammock, a tuna melt and soup lunch, and letting my swamp collie roll in the swamp and take a swim, I shouldered up my widowmaker and fold out ground blind (not a pop up tent, just 20" fabric on stakes), along with a book and a bush axe and set off to wait him out. Knowing that if I got an opportunity it would be a pretty close shot, I decided to carry my Beretta 390 (which uses a Jellyhead and Rem Premier High Velocity 3" Copper plated 6s). Its normally the gun I let Rebecca shoot for turkeys, but I thought I'd bring it along since there was a chance of rain, and rain, scopes and hot humid weather don't mix real well.
Based on the tracks, I set up so the bird would come in front of me and have to walk past my decoy in order to pass me on the road. I brought my bi-pod along with me so I could use my hands to turn the pages of my book while still having my gun in a semi-ready position should the bird show up. I didn't antipate him gobbling much if any. I set the decoy all by herself up in the road 30 yards from me. There were two thigh thick pines about a foot apart ten yards in front of me and I had a decent view of the decoy in between them where she stood 20 yards more.
I took out the slate call and strapped on the Freak and ran a short 3-4 note series of yelps. Silence. I opened my book and was perfectly content sitting in the shade reading. I was expecting a call from Rebecca at about 530-545pm when she got off work, as she was planning on heading out to hunt the next day and was coming in that night. To minimize movement, I set the phone on top of my Woodhaven call topper, and had that on top of my gore-tex rain jacket, as there was some rain/thumderstorms forecasted for that evening.
I clucked every ten minutes or two a few times and about twice an hour I'd yelp a bit, but mostly I was silent and patient.
At 540 or so, I heard a noise in the cutover behind me that was what I call a "big noise". Not like a tree falling or jet engine big noise, but a footstep or something similar in the leaves made by a larger animal... not a rabbit or a songbird. I slowly closed my book and put my hand on my gun. Whatever it was, I could hear it walking, and I'm a deaf duck hunter so it must have been inside 30 yards if not closer. Then I heard what I thought was a hen putt.. once, twice, three, four, five. I noticed it was deeper than a hen putt, and it wasn't running away, but the sound was much more content. It was a cluck, not a putt and I let my breath out slowly. A long minute passed, and the bird started clucking again, and let out about ten such clucks when I heard a gobbler sound off across the road up on the hill. All I could think was crap that bird came through around noon before I got here and is already up on the hill where he will no doubt roost. I started second guessing my set up and so on, thinking of course that he was gobbling to the hen.
As my luck goes, thats about the time Rebecca called me on the telephone. I of course had it on vibrate, but sitting atop that call topper and the rain coat, it may of well been sitting on a snare drum. I thought that may spook the hen, but she just kept on clucking happily, working her way out to the road.
I heard her walking and when I guess she made it to the road she stopped. She must have stood silently for a moment staring at the widow maker. Thats when I heard it. The noise that save a gobble will make a turkey hunters hackles stand on end. The deep bass sound a bird makes as he strutts as hard as he can. Then I heard it again, the familiar "TSSSSSSSP..... WHUMMMMMMMMM". And it was getting closer. I cut my eyes as hard as I could, which made me see double as if I were crosseyed. Slowly, like the shade from a high overhead cloud blacking out the sun, the bird strutted into my view... walking slowly up the road toward the decoy, and not 10 steps from where I sat.
This was pretty handy of course, because my gun was pointed on the far side of the decoy, and if you think a move will break the deal when a bird is at 30 yards.... try it out at 10 and see what you get. He walked up the road and came out of strutt somewhat and went into almost a relaxed strutt. He circled the decoy once and as he did I realized a new problem.... those damn pine trees. I managed the slide the bipod in towards me, dropping it free of the gun and shifted myself slightly as the bird walked around the decoy a second time, he walked in front of her and I clicked off the safety and bore down on the gun. He lifted his head and stopped walking. I don't honestly think he thought anything of, it was likely just a conicidence. He was directly behind the decoy, facing the opposite way of it. Widowmakes ain't exactly cheap at $100 a unit retail, and while I may get a nice discount on stuff because of what I do for a living, I wasn't really eager to tear up something if I didn't have to. At the same time, I was a bit nervous the bird might have made the set up, especially after circling twice with no response from the hen. I put the bead on the front of his beak, rather than on the caruncles as usual and touched off the shot. The bird went down like I'd electrocuted him and the first thing I remember seeing besides the bird going poof was my widowmaker spinning like a pin wheel on her stake. Well.... all the other decoys I own have pellet holes in them.... welcome to the club old girl.
The bird never so much as twitched, and I had the courtesy to return Rebeccas phone call as I went out to survey the damage. He was 32 yards from where I sat and was definately the same bird that had been traveling the road... although he wasn't as big as his feet made him seem. He had what almost looked like a plantars wart on his left middle toe, and his right foot was noticably swollen in the middle pad. Perhaps wounds from spurring with other turkeys. And he had a nice set of spurs as well.
The bird weighed about what most four year old birds weigh after a spring of hard duty, around 18.5 or 19#s. His beard was 11 1/2" long and he sported a nice pair of jet black, sharp 1 3/8" spurs.
The widowmaker has offically been renamed"Collateral" as in 'Collateral Damage,' and is entertaining employment offers from the Secret Service in the off season. I stopped counting at 30 pellet holes.... 21 of which were right slam in her head.... I guess I misjudged the angle a bit (and reflecting on it I did have to shoot right slam passed her head to get to him.... but I don't use it cause its pretty.... I use it cause it works). Some of the copper plated #6s actually stuck in the plastic of the body, and you can see them clearly in the sun.... kind of a nice conversation piece if you ask me.
And the best for last... you can clearly see one of the pellets down in the breast feathers/plastic. All those black spots on her head neck and beak... yep those areholes.
