Success stories---anyone
12-30-2013, 05:12 PM
#31
Fork Horn
Join Date: Nov 2013
Location: Oklahoma
Posts: 123
This happened back on April 6 of this year, but I feel the need for some turkey hunting now (and I wasn't a member of the forum back then, either) so here goes:
I hit the road about 4 in the morning, and was a little apprehensive. It was very, very windy, so I thought I might be wasting my time. I was a little encouraged by thinking that down in the bottom where I hunt, the wind might not be so bad.
Well, the wind was very, very bad down in the bottom, too.
But I hit the call between gusts and hoped for the best.
About 7, a coyote came in behind my decoy, "Martha", (they know which end of the turkey had eyes), and as he was drooling over his next meal, I blasted him. He was 15-20 yards away.
I got up to go see, and he was still alive. His jaws were flapping, and he was trying to move forward.
I shot him again, this time in the head.
I've got to tell you that two things struck me about that little episode.
First, coyotes (and other predators...I have noticed and mentioned this phenomenon before) have less blood volume than prey animals. The first shot paralyzed him, striking him in the spine, mid-body. No blood. Pellet holes, which smoked, but no blood.
The second shot, coming at such a close range (5 yards), blew a quarter sized hole just under his left eye, and exited under and behind his right ear. The exit hole was about golf-ball-sized. There was a little pink tissue blown into the ground from that second shot, but very little blood; maybe a teaspoon, spattered about.
And that second shot made his skull feel like (when I stepped on it...I hate coyotes) a paper sack with a broken glass in it.
Second striking thing: Hevi-Shot Magnum Blend (my round of choice this year) shoots a very, very, very tight pattern. That was corroborated by later events, but the size of the entrance wound on shot number two really made an impression on me.
It was kind of like shooting a rifle.
I got up walked around a little after that, figuring any more coyotes, and certainly any turkeys, within earshot were lonnnnng gone. I crossed the low-water crossing and went up to the stone foundation of an old Indian cabin (my son's favorite turkey hunting landmark), went back to Martha, and contorted myself into a position where I was out of the wind and in the sun.
I commenced to dozing at that point. Occasionally a particularly vigorous wind gust would awaken me, and when it subsided, I would hit my call, then drift back off into delirium land.
This continued for a couple of hours. It was very pleasant.
A little after 10, however, a heard a gobble in response to my yelp.
I did some scrambling to get out of the sun, and back into position for some serious turkey calling.
The Gobbler and I (and Martha) (and my call) played cat-and-mouse there for a good while. We were hampered by the wind.
But eventually I saw that gobbler come out of the woods and hit the road.
Every time I heard him gobble, I hit the yelp.
Every time I yelped, he gobbled.
Once he crossed the road (it is surrounded by tall grass), I could maintain a visual on him. He entered the field where "The Post",a BIG old fencepost, probably a corner post sticks out of the ground.
You can tell the gobblers from the hens - - the gobblers look to be jet black, they have red heads, they crane their necks, they stare intently, and walk with purpose. The hens are gray-ish, don't have red heads, and sort of meander.
I am thankful I got my new call this year.
"The Post" is about 40 yards away from my position. So I was going to blast the turkey when he got inside "The Post".
Now, that might not be as good a plan as Phil's plan (Phil is my best friend's dad, and he is my turkey hunting mentor), which is to wait for the gobbler to get close enough to start drumming and fanning for the decoy.
At that point, a gobbler is very close; certainly inside 20 yards, which makes putting the gobbler down pretty much a sure thing, with lots of shotguns, and lots of loads.
The downside is that the gobbler can get spooked or discouraged by the lack of movement on the part of the decoy before he gets that close, and take off.
So as he approached "The Post" (notice, I said "as he approached" rather than "when he passed"...what can I say? I got excited...), I leveled my bead on the base of his red throat and blasted him.
Things began to get interesting at this point.
The gobbler was hit and fell over backwards.
As I ran toward his twitching body, he popped up onto his feet, with his back toward me, whence I blasted him again (there is no fan to turn into a trophy on this one, to speak of, owing to that shot).
His response to getting his butt shot was not what I would label as "optimal". He took to the air.
Yes, really, he flew off toward the woods.
At which time I blasted him again.
And I began to run toward the last spot on the horizon where I had seen him.
Then I spotted him in a tree, but he was too far away to take a shot, even for the likes of me (I am a "if I ain't shootin', nothin's dyin' kinda guy). So I continued to run toward him. He fell down and started to run away. A flock of buzzards appeared from nowhere and circled above him at this point.
When I had closed the distance on the ground enough to have a shot at him that might actually hit him, he started to fly again. So I shot him again.
Down he goes.
When I get 15 yards away from him, he starts to run, but this will be the last time he attempts evasive maneuvers. I put the bead on his red head and blast him.
At that point, it's all over but the flopping.
And there is some of that.
And that bird is my avatar...look left!
I hit the road about 4 in the morning, and was a little apprehensive. It was very, very windy, so I thought I might be wasting my time. I was a little encouraged by thinking that down in the bottom where I hunt, the wind might not be so bad.
Well, the wind was very, very bad down in the bottom, too.
But I hit the call between gusts and hoped for the best.
About 7, a coyote came in behind my decoy, "Martha", (they know which end of the turkey had eyes), and as he was drooling over his next meal, I blasted him. He was 15-20 yards away.
I got up to go see, and he was still alive. His jaws were flapping, and he was trying to move forward.
I shot him again, this time in the head.
I've got to tell you that two things struck me about that little episode.
First, coyotes (and other predators...I have noticed and mentioned this phenomenon before) have less blood volume than prey animals. The first shot paralyzed him, striking him in the spine, mid-body. No blood. Pellet holes, which smoked, but no blood.
The second shot, coming at such a close range (5 yards), blew a quarter sized hole just under his left eye, and exited under and behind his right ear. The exit hole was about golf-ball-sized. There was a little pink tissue blown into the ground from that second shot, but very little blood; maybe a teaspoon, spattered about.
And that second shot made his skull feel like (when I stepped on it...I hate coyotes) a paper sack with a broken glass in it.
Second striking thing: Hevi-Shot Magnum Blend (my round of choice this year) shoots a very, very, very tight pattern. That was corroborated by later events, but the size of the entrance wound on shot number two really made an impression on me.
It was kind of like shooting a rifle.
I got up walked around a little after that, figuring any more coyotes, and certainly any turkeys, within earshot were lonnnnng gone. I crossed the low-water crossing and went up to the stone foundation of an old Indian cabin (my son's favorite turkey hunting landmark), went back to Martha, and contorted myself into a position where I was out of the wind and in the sun.
I commenced to dozing at that point. Occasionally a particularly vigorous wind gust would awaken me, and when it subsided, I would hit my call, then drift back off into delirium land.
This continued for a couple of hours. It was very pleasant.
A little after 10, however, a heard a gobble in response to my yelp.
I did some scrambling to get out of the sun, and back into position for some serious turkey calling.
The Gobbler and I (and Martha) (and my call) played cat-and-mouse there for a good while. We were hampered by the wind.
But eventually I saw that gobbler come out of the woods and hit the road.
Every time I heard him gobble, I hit the yelp.
Every time I yelped, he gobbled.
Once he crossed the road (it is surrounded by tall grass), I could maintain a visual on him. He entered the field where "The Post",a BIG old fencepost, probably a corner post sticks out of the ground.
You can tell the gobblers from the hens - - the gobblers look to be jet black, they have red heads, they crane their necks, they stare intently, and walk with purpose. The hens are gray-ish, don't have red heads, and sort of meander.
I am thankful I got my new call this year.
"The Post" is about 40 yards away from my position. So I was going to blast the turkey when he got inside "The Post".
Now, that might not be as good a plan as Phil's plan (Phil is my best friend's dad, and he is my turkey hunting mentor), which is to wait for the gobbler to get close enough to start drumming and fanning for the decoy.
At that point, a gobbler is very close; certainly inside 20 yards, which makes putting the gobbler down pretty much a sure thing, with lots of shotguns, and lots of loads.
The downside is that the gobbler can get spooked or discouraged by the lack of movement on the part of the decoy before he gets that close, and take off.
So as he approached "The Post" (notice, I said "as he approached" rather than "when he passed"...what can I say? I got excited...), I leveled my bead on the base of his red throat and blasted him.
Things began to get interesting at this point.
The gobbler was hit and fell over backwards.
As I ran toward his twitching body, he popped up onto his feet, with his back toward me, whence I blasted him again (there is no fan to turn into a trophy on this one, to speak of, owing to that shot).
His response to getting his butt shot was not what I would label as "optimal". He took to the air.
Yes, really, he flew off toward the woods.
At which time I blasted him again.
And I began to run toward the last spot on the horizon where I had seen him.
Then I spotted him in a tree, but he was too far away to take a shot, even for the likes of me (I am a "if I ain't shootin', nothin's dyin' kinda guy). So I continued to run toward him. He fell down and started to run away. A flock of buzzards appeared from nowhere and circled above him at this point.
When I had closed the distance on the ground enough to have a shot at him that might actually hit him, he started to fly again. So I shot him again.
Down he goes.
When I get 15 yards away from him, he starts to run, but this will be the last time he attempts evasive maneuvers. I put the bead on his red head and blast him.
At that point, it's all over but the flopping.
And there is some of that.
And that bird is my avatar...look left!
