Turkey season's coming up and thought I'd share a tale from a few years back. Larry length..
Maybe 2015 or so I hunted my usual opening day spot. A remote but popular spot on public land that's known to hold some birds. Scouted a week before and saw at least a few gobblers working the field.
On opener, there was only 1 huge gobbler with about 8 hens, and the hunters outnumbered them easily. Calling was futile, as the gobbler cared little with so many hens by his side. This went on for the next couple of days, and I persisted hunting this spot. I even reached out for advice from Gen, a well known turkey killer, and he advised I was pretty much SOL. So I took matters into my own hands...
Next day I brought the fan from an old jake I shot, having been inspired from those dumb Amish hunting vids. The gobbler and his hens were about 300 yards out and he was gobbling to my calls, but still didn't give a shit with his harem around.
So I went for it... crawled those 300 yards, stopping every so often when he looked over, holding the fan up to distract him. Seemed like eternity, but somehow got within 60 yards or so, and he was still there, cautiously eyeing me in the grass with my jake fan up. Figuring this was the closest I'd get, I got up on one knee and dialed him in, and took the shot. Seemed like the whole valley stopped in time, and he flopped like a wild bronco right there.
I dropped everything and ran up to him, with his hens dispersed, and there he was... a monster longbeard, the biggest I've seen up close, flopping slowly on the ground beneath me. My heart beating in my chest, I put my boot on his neck to calm him down, and once he stilled, I thought to go gather my things.
I got my phone for the obligatory pic, and my shotgun, but when I looked up, I saw the dead turkey rise up and take off on foot at full speed. IT CAN'T BE! HE WAS DEAD! I took off after him, running full speed across the meadow, even taking another far shot, with no luck. The SOB evaded me. UNREAL.
That hunt still haunts me to this day. More so than the monster billy goat I missed with a bow at 40 yards, and more so than the first buck I missed. Cautionary tale... make sure he's dead and ready to bag before you start celebrating. Turkeys are tough sons of bitches. Here's to turkey season!
Maybe 2015 or so I hunted my usual opening day spot. A remote but popular spot on public land that's known to hold some birds. Scouted a week before and saw at least a few gobblers working the field.
On opener, there was only 1 huge gobbler with about 8 hens, and the hunters outnumbered them easily. Calling was futile, as the gobbler cared little with so many hens by his side. This went on for the next couple of days, and I persisted hunting this spot. I even reached out for advice from Gen, a well known turkey killer, and he advised I was pretty much SOL. So I took matters into my own hands...
Next day I brought the fan from an old jake I shot, having been inspired from those dumb Amish hunting vids. The gobbler and his hens were about 300 yards out and he was gobbling to my calls, but still didn't give a shit with his harem around.
So I went for it... crawled those 300 yards, stopping every so often when he looked over, holding the fan up to distract him. Seemed like eternity, but somehow got within 60 yards or so, and he was still there, cautiously eyeing me in the grass with my jake fan up. Figuring this was the closest I'd get, I got up on one knee and dialed him in, and took the shot. Seemed like the whole valley stopped in time, and he flopped like a wild bronco right there.
I dropped everything and ran up to him, with his hens dispersed, and there he was... a monster longbeard, the biggest I've seen up close, flopping slowly on the ground beneath me. My heart beating in my chest, I put my boot on his neck to calm him down, and once he stilled, I thought to go gather my things.
I got my phone for the obligatory pic, and my shotgun, but when I looked up, I saw the dead turkey rise up and take off on foot at full speed. IT CAN'T BE! HE WAS DEAD! I took off after him, running full speed across the meadow, even taking another far shot, with no luck. The SOB evaded me. UNREAL.
That hunt still haunts me to this day. More so than the monster billy goat I missed with a bow at 40 yards, and more so than the first buck I missed. Cautionary tale... make sure he's dead and ready to bag before you start celebrating. Turkeys are tough sons of bitches. Here's to turkey season!
