what ya got???

I've got a couple. In 1983 I was hunting Hale Co on what is now the Drummond place. I called up a nice bird in the afternoon and shot him at a misjudged 45 yards. He flipped over, flopped like crazy and started running before I could get to him. As "we" ran thru,over.around, the woods I managed to fire off three more shots at close range. All misses. My legs turned to stone and breath was coming harder at each step. I finally slammed on the brakes and let him get out maybe 25 yards and finished him. We both lay down, convulsing and flopping. Thought I was gonna die.....

Several years later I was hunting on Stags Head Lodge property in Greene Co with my 12ga muzzleloader. It was one of those still, foggy mornings. Only bird I heard was couple hundred yards across the line. After a while I eased over to the property line to see if he was still there. It was thick honeysuckle near the line. I eased up to the line and saw the bird 150 yards er so away in a pasture. I yelped at him and he answered. He wasn't going to leave those 5-6 hens he had but it was fun to make him gobble. I was down on my knee yelping when I heard a gobble that didn't sound like it came from in front. I turned my head and there was a gobbler at maybe ten steps TO MY RIGHT. As he passed behind a small sapling I threw the gun up LEFT handed and fired. White smoke enveloped the entire area. I couldn't see the bird but I could hear him flopping hard. I covered the ten steps and jumped on him as he flopped in. under, and around the honeysuckle. Someone could of made good money with a video of that fight. I finally choked him down and broke his neck.

Back at the lodge I was talking with the two guys I came with and one of them asked how far the shot was as he looked at the bird. He said no way, there is no shot in this birds head. We skinned the head..no shot. Skinned the whole bird...no shot.

I had missed with that hurried left hand shot, skeered the crap out of the gobbler with the smoke who then got tangled in the honeysuckle vines. A bare handed cluster**** of a turkey kill....

troy

Good ones Fred.

I've got one.

My buddy Chris was hunting with me season before last. At daylight a bird fired up on the limb about 150 yards off our cow pasture on what we call the Home Place. So we crossed over the barbed wire fence and there was an old dim logging road that ran right out through the pines to where he was roosted.

So Chris set up against a tree about 60 yards down the old road and I remained just inside the fence to do a call through and draw the bird to him. Well the bird pitched off the roost and flew down in the road alright. But instead of coming up it to my calls like we figured he swung out to our right; came up the hill through the woods; crossed under the barbed wire fence into the cow pasture; and circled around about 45 yards directly behind the tree I was set up on. He moved back and forth gobbling his @$$ off for I don't know how long.

Finally I slid down and rolled over on my left side to look behind the tree. Couldn't see jack to that side through the fence, bushes and trees. Rolled over on my right side and I could see him back there behind me at times as he moved back and forth. In this position I had to switch over and shoot left handed. I was in a horrible cramped position and "Finally" he moved far enough for a clear shot at his head.

When I shot two things happened. One, the red dot sight on my shotgun nearly gouged my eyeball out. And two, the turkey flew up in a pine tree out in the pasture. As I was sitting there pissed because I thought I missed the gobbler he suddenly fell back down through the tree bouncing off about three limbs before hitting the ground with a thump.

By now Chris is standing beside and before I could say anything he calmly says, "You're Bleeding." I put my hand up to my left eye and there is blood all over that cheek and now my hand. Big gash under my left eye. Oh well, worry about that later. Let's go get the turkey. When we cross the fence and get out to the tree there is nothing at the base of it but some feathers where he hit the ground.

We start looking around and Chris spots him back down the hill near the fence. The gobbler is walking around and around in about a 3 foot circle. Strangest thing you ever saw. So we walk down and dispatched him with a finishing shot.

I have the fan and beard of that bird on my wall. Not close to the biggest I ever killed but a very memorable hunt with a good friend.

Now that is a funny story.

ROFL at both them stories.

Good ones!

My dad and I got permission to hunt a few hundred acres outside of Brookwood back around 99 or 2000. We hadn't hardly seen the place, but knew a little about it. We decided we were gonna hunt it one Saturday morning. I was in college, so I told dad we needed to try and roost 1 Friday pm to maybe give us a head start. He works at the mines there in Brookwood, so he said he'd meet me over there and show me around a little and he'd have to get back to work.

Well, we meet up about 330 and drive out to a big powerline. We were up on top of a ginormous hill on a flat that was around 300 yards long. We walk the road that was running down the powerline, and stop at the edge of the hill. There were strut marks, and tracks everywhere, so I told him I was just gonna stay there and listen. We stayed there shootin the bull for a minute or 2, and I pulled out my slate and made a series of calls, just to see what happened. We didn't hear anything, so we just carried on bullcrappin for a minute or so, when dad says,"be still!" My first reaction was to look where he was looking, and I'll be dang, there was a gobbler strutting about 200 down the hill from us. He broke strut and started running up the hill to us! I told dad, " when he goes behind the next terrace, hit the ground and get in the weeds on the edge of the powerline." Now keep in mind, dad is in his work clothes, and I'm in a short sleeved camo shirt and camo pants, but my gun is in the truck that's 200 yards from us.. Well, when he disappeared behind the terrace we hit the ground. Dad crawled and laid prone in the tall grass and briars on the edge of the powerline, and I bellycrawled a few yards, then got up and hauled arse to the truck! I get my gun out, throw a shell in it, and take of back to dad. When I get about 20 or so from dad, he's doing a hand motion telling me to get down. As soon as I do, I hear him drumming, so I lay prone right off the edge of the road, and no sooner than I get settled, that ol white head pops up over the edge of the hill. Considering, we weren't hidden very well at all, I didn't watch him long, so I laid it to him. When I shot him, he was probably less than 25 feet in front of dad! That was an awesome experience, and one of the many great hunts he and I have been lucky enough to share!

That's a good one.love it

A guy I used to work with had given up for the morning and was sleeping in his truck waiting on his buddy to come out when one woke him up gobbling outside the truck. It was the first turkey he ever killed.

I carried two friends hunting one fine morning. One of them hadn't killed a bird ever. I got him one pretty quick and we moved locations.

We got to a steep downhill part of the road and I yelped real loud. A bird answered below and to the right. We hurried to the bottom and set up where we could shoot to the cross road(woods road). I told the other hunter to stay back about thirty yards and be still.

Ya'll already know where the dang bird went.....straight to the other hunter hunkered down in the ditch below a four foot bank. We got turned around and watched as the bird stopped maybe six feet from the other hunter, gobbling and strutting. The bird finally moved off to the side for a safe shot and my hunter killed him.

The first hunter was scared silly that we were going to shoot the bird as it stood above him. I told him we had discussed that.....

troy

where's yekrut, I KNOW he's done some silly arse stunts.......

A few years ago on opening day my dad and I went hunting,it was windy and had been raining so the birds weren't gobbling and if they did youd have to be right on top of them to hear them,we were in my japanese mini truck that morning and we pulled into the back of a food plot that joins a 40 acre block that had been thinned,there was a windrow on the edge of the plot where we parked and a logging road that went off behind it,well we walk down the logging road out to a hill about 100 yards from the truck and was looking off the backside of the 40 to see if we could spot one out there,after a few minutes my dad says "I'm going to the truck,aint nothing gonna gobble with the way this weather is",I said ok i'll be on in a minute,about 5 minutes later I hear a hen yelp down the hill so I stand on a stump and start looking across the bottom for her with my binoculars,as soon as I get them to my eyes I hear a turkey drum right on top of me,I looked out of the corner of my eye and this gobbler is in full strut with 4 hens about 30 yards from me,I'm in the wide open so I dont know how they didnt see me,well they walk behind a windrow so i get down on my belly behind the stump,they are walking right toward the foodplot where my dad and my truck are,I start texting dad trying to tell him that the turkey is about 50 yards from him but my phone cant get a signal,well these turkeys get to a little depression in the logging road and the ol boy starts struuting for the ladies,I'm looking at the turkey strutting and can see my dad in the truck at the same time,well i figure its now or never so I catch the other side of the hill and crawl about 40 yards up to some big stumps pushed up,when I ease my head up he is stiil strutting around,I can still see my dad in the truck too,after a minute I finally get my gun up without the hens seeing me and gave him a load of #5's to the face,my dad comes flying out of the truck and says what are you doing,I get out to the turkey and pick him up and told him I had tried to text him to get out of the truck and kill that turkey that was strutting 40 yards from it,we laughed for several minutes after I told him what was going on while he was sitting in the truck,it's a hunt I'll never forget,the bird had a thick 10.5" beard and 1 1/4" spurs.

professionals

Not me.

I posted this one in another thread recently and it has to be one of the funniest.

I might have shot one last year at a pretty good pace and through a little brush in a food plot and about the time I got to him he stood up but both his eyes were shot out so he couldn't see me coming. I hit him as hard as I could with an open hand and took him to the ground in mid stride. I had the death grip on his neck for a good 5 minutes before I turned him loose. The guy that was with me come walking up hollering about how awesome that was while I was getting the hell beat out of me and blood all everything.

Another one was around 2000 or so. It as spring break so I had the whole week to do nothing but kill turkeys. Well I jacked with this one stupid bird every single day that week but he was on a hill that i could not get to. It was pretty much bluff rock on my side and he would work off the roost away everyday onto the adjoining property. Well about day 4 or 5 I decided I was going to climb up there before daylight and sit on the line and kill him when he does his usual thing. I spent no telling how long that morning in the dark climbing this dang bluff wall just to.get up there and the bird went onto my land back down the hill at flydown time. I did not really realize I guess in the dark just how steep the hill was but it was Dang near impossible to get back down it. I end up sliding about halfway down the bluff and off into a very cold spring fed creek that is about armpit deep. I submerged everything in my vest and gun to of course. The bird had done moved on off and to make a long story short I circled him and for between him and his hens and killed him. The bird had a good thick beard and not even a bump for spurs. I was ticked. I took the bird back to show it to my uncle at work and when I got there the guys he worked with just died laughing at me. I had water running everywhere out of my vest in the back of the truck and my boots were still squirting water too.

This is not a funny but it was a memorable one for me. I was only 24 at the time and hunting with a friend of mine who was close to 40. He was a veteran and I was inexperienced. I had killed a couple of birds before but never with him when hunting together. We set out one morning as a team and hit a couple of birds right off the bat. It did not take long for him to get the bird to me. After only 30 minutes, the hunt the hunt was over and I had shot. For a guy who had been hunting turkeys for 20 years I did not expect his reaction. He seemed to be more excited than me. I asked him why he was so jittery and his response was this "If you don't get this feeling when a bird is shot you don't need to be hunting". I was excited too but he seemed a little over the top. Anyway, while the bird was flopping he made a mistake that I could not believe. He told me later he knew better but the excitement had overcome his judgement. As we are going to get the bird, he reaches down to pick it up while it is still flopping rather than stepping on its head. Mistake...... when he reached down, the bird slung one of his legs back and absolutely buried a 1 1/4 inch spur in the soft spot between your pointer finger and thumb. To this day I have never seen a 40 year old man go to the ground in as much pain as he was in. I will never forget that and will NEVER make that mistake.

Another that is just plane stupid to me now was back in 1993. We didn't have any birds where we hunted in tn but we knew a guy that had told us he had some places in Lincoln county tn that were loaded. He told me that he would take me and my dad hunting and get me my first bird. Well the morning comes that we are supposed to meet this guy and he has us meet him in the parking lot of a well known tity bar and leave our nice 4x4 there to ride with him in some kind of old blue 2 door beater car. We drive forever it seemed and finally pulled up to a gate. He told my dad that he could not carry a gun and he wasn't carrying one either. We left the car and probably walked across 10 different properties that day chasing birds. I was scared to death because I suspected he didnt even have permission to hunt where we parked the car at, but to this day still don't know the truth or the whole story. All I do know is that I never went hunting with that guy again.

I had one wrap up a dagger in my glove one time and stuck in my palm pretty good. That sucker was all sore and infected for days and days. I try not to get in a hurry now days to pick them up to quick.

I had one stab through a cotton glove once and somehow spin when he flopped so that the spur was kinda wedged into my hand and I couldn't get it out without cutting the glove. Kinda the same feeling you have when you get a fishook embedded in your hand and the fish starts flopping.

Yekrut I think there are alot of those guys in Lincoln county. Had more than one tell me "that over there belongs to so and so. He don't care for you hunting but be sure and park over in the woods so he can't see your truck"

Ya'll got some great stories! I got a story about the one that got away . . . . One afternoon a few years back I got on a hot gobbler that was struting in one of my food plots. I snuck to a road bed that led to the opposite end of the plot, set a decoy in the road, juumped over in the brush and gave a soft yelp. The bird cut me off with a gobble and 5 minutes later was standing 20 yards in front of me in full strut. I took aim, he came out of strut and I shot, missing him completely! The gobbler took flight as I loaded another shell in the Mossberg 500. The second shot knocked him down only for him to jump up and take off. I jumped up running as well and was gaining on him just about to pull the trigger when suddenly the foam pad (for sitting on) that was attached to my turkey vest hung the top of my boot while I was in mid-stride. This through me forward just enough for the barrel of my shotgun to burry up in the dirt and shove the butt of the gun into my ribs, thus pole-vaulting me like an olympic reject in the middle of the food plot. I rolled over just in time to see the gobbler again take flight and sail off down the mountain. Pride hurt, ribs hurt and favorite slate call smashed I went to the house. Memory still haunts me.

I was slipping around a pasture once on a rainy day and saw three gobblers strutting up in a little neck. It was a perfect setup for a crawl up and ambush (I still like doing that kind of thing) so I went over a gameplan in my head. I figured it would take a good 30 or 40 minutes to crawl up into shotgun range and I had been kinda putting off taking a crap all morning so I figured I had better take care of that before I started my stalk so I wouldn't have to deal with a code red while trying to crawl up on the turkeys. I found an old cedar fencerow running up the side of the hill and picked out a good post to hold onto while I leaned back and did my business.
I wore overalls back then and I was always real careful not to get anything in the gallouses, so I held the gallouses up in one hand, held on to the post with the other and leaned back and fired away. Sometime during all this the ancient cedar post broke and you can guess where all my momentum was already headed............I literally shat and fell back in it. I had heard people say it before but I never realized the term could have so much meaning until I experienced it firsthand. Breakfast burritos from Mcdonald's shot out in a violent fashion and then rolled in would ruin a hunt for most folks, but I didn't let it deter me. I wiped off best as I could and then proceeded my stalk. Crawling through that pasture I felt like the guy from Shawshank Redemption who crawled through the sewer to get out of the penetentiary. Good news for me was turkeys can't smell because the way that little hill ran up that neck I couldn't see the turkeys until I got to about twenty yards. I made the shot and carried the turkey out in one hand and most of my clothes out in the other. I was glad I was hunting by myself one day. I have the fan and beard from that bird hanging in my garage as a reminder of what the human body is capable of enduring if it has a goal. I don't seek the aid of old fenceposts when I need to do my business in the woods anymore either.

Now that is dedication. lol!

LOL at all these stories! My hunts are all the same - set up on the turkey, call a few times, when he gets to 40 yds yelp at him to make him stop and raise his head, shoot, collect turkey.

Its really kinda boring.

Well, maybe things have gone wrong a time or 2.

Many years ago on opening day, I heard a turkey gobble in the woods beside a field. I got set up along the edge of the field, and then a whole flock flew down, with 2 strutters and about a dozen hens. Since it was opening day, I called aggressively. The gobblers would answer, but of course wouldn't leave the hens. I had my gun on my knee aimed in their direction, when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye.

A longbeard was standing in the edge of the field to one side and looking right at me. There wasn't a bit of cover between us, so all I could do was be still. He started to me and was coming fast, and I couldn't do anything but watch. At 40 yds, I realized he was heading to a road that leads to another field and he was also about to get behind some brush and be gone. I decided to swing the gun and shoot quickly.

I shot just before he went behind the brush, and it looked like he went to flopping. I could get a glimpse of him through the brush, so I fired 2 more rounds to make sure he was dead. I stood up to go claim my prize, and he was just standing there - I hadn't even touched him with 3 shots.

For a minute we both just stood there, and then he took a step forward, and gobbled! I don't know what he thought those shots were, but they weren't gonna keep him from finding that hen. I tried to raise the gun slowly, but this time he caught the movement and ran back the way he came. I shoulda just let him go, but there was too much adrenaline pumping by now and I shot at him as ran through the opening. He pitched up and flew to the end of the field where the other turkeys were and went out of sight.

I don't think I've ever felt so foolish. I didn't jump up and chase him because I knew the other turkeys were still close by. After sitting there a few minutes, I decided to slip out and go somewhere else for a couple of hours. I thought about drowning myself in the pond, but finally decided against that. I just walked around in a daze for a while.

Later in the morning, I slipped back to the field and saw that all the turkeys were gone. I went to the place where I first shot and there was no sign of a hit. Then I walked over the where I shot the last time and the ground was covered with feathers - I had hit him and didn't even know it. I walked down to the end of the field where he flew and the turkey jumped up and hobbled a few feet - had a broke leg and numerous other injuries but was still alive. I didn't miss with shot #5.

Did I say that all my hunts were kinda boring? Well, maybe not.

over confidence can be a bad thing in turkey hunting....

I was hunting a bird in Greene Co that would roost near the property line, but on the place I could hunt. Every morning he roosted 50-100 yards from a small pasture that bottlenecked into a large pasture. He'd strut with the hens then all of them would walk to the larger pasture. I couldn't hunt the pasture.

I finally called the owner of the property and got permission to hunt there also..ha ha dead bird walking.....

next morning I was set up at the bottleneck. The bird gobbled on the roost maybe fifty yards behind me. Hens started flying down into the smaller pasture. Finally the gobbler walked out into the pasture at 40 yards. I decided to let him show off for a while before shooting.

I had him dead, whats the rush I said....

I was hid pretty good an so called a LOT more than I normally would. I had hens at ten feet and called to them. The gobbler was gobbling like crazy and the hens were talking to me. It was quite a show for maybe 45 minutes.

The gobbler at times was seventy yards out from me but I didn't worry because was where he wanted to go. Finally the hens started to head for the larger pasture, passing me at 20-40 yards. The gobbler took notice and headed for the bottleneck where I waited to kill him.

At 35 yards I called and he stood up tall and looked down my gun barrel. I pulled the trigger on him......and he launched into the air and flew away...WTH? I just sat there ..stunned...I got up and walked off the distance. 37 good steps. No sign of a hit. I have no idea what happened.........

troy

I was walking out late one morning after fooling with a group of birds that had quit gobbling and thought I would yelp one more time...turkey gobbles. I am on one road and he is across a bottom on another road thinking there is no way he can get here, so I yelp again and he gobbles.

Our place is being clear cut at the time so I can't move off the road b/c he will spot me. My only hope is that when he gets in the remaining timber then I can move with the goal being to get in the creek bed and kill him coming down the hill.

He starts gobbling on his own as he moves down the ridge...I get about 75% of the way down and realize the rest is a small bluff so I am looking for a place to jump in so I can setup facing the other hill. He gobbles again and he has beat me to the bottom, so I have to setup - behind me is clearcut, so I can't move back or he'll peg me, so I sit looking down into the creek bed. There are no trees and the bluff is so steep that I have to sit with my foot on a tree, keeping me from sliding down.

This has happened so fast that I'm not really worried b/c he's hot and will be flopping in a couple of minutes...Wrong. He drums and he is moving to my left, but I can't see and he drums again moving up the ridge where I had last called. I purr trying to bring him back in front and he double gobbles. He drums again and he is moving into the clear cut, so I have to shuffle around, but if I move my foot off the tree I am sliding down the bluff. He drums and gobbles at I'm guessing 20 steps, for what feels like 15 minutes, but is really only a couple. I am down on the barrel, but have no idea where exactly I am going to see him and know that I have to shoot the second I see head or he is going to bust me.

I can borderline hear the bird breathe, he is so close. He finally walks to the edge looking and I shoot at 4 steps with the gun braced about 2 inches from my elbow.

I start walking him out and I am having to change hands every 75 yards and start worrying about how weak and out of shape I am. I get him back to our 25 lb scales and he bottoms them out. Other than my first kill and the first bird I called and killed on my own, he is my favorite.

Me and a buddy were sitting at a gate one morning waiting on one to betray his location. It was just starting to get a little gray in the sky and he and I were sitting there talking strategy. There was this damn whipoorwhill just tearing it up in the bushes about 20 yards from the gate. My buddy started talking about that thing and how it was getting on his nerves. I remember he looked at me and said "You know, I have heard those things all my life and I have never seen one". Then he reaches down and picks up a rock and chucks it towards the bird. I hear a flutter of wings and then I saw it flash as it flew by and then it hit my buddy right in his face. It hit him so hard that it knocked him off of his feet and onto his back. I walked up and stuck out my hand as he wiped the blood off of his nose and I asked him "Did you get a good look at that one"?

We both had a good laugh... well me more than him.

Great stories guys, really enjoying the reading.

That reminds me of another one. Good story.

not a kill story but what turkey hunting can do to people:
i had taken a guy that was 56 at the time turkey hunting earlier in the year to get his 1st turkey and had wound up getting him 2 birds by the time this hunt took place.i had told him to meet me at the gate where i hunt and we head on in to hunt before we go to work.we didnt have any kuck that morning and were driving out and i smell something and ask did he fart and he gave me this look.
he then tells me while he was waiting on me to get there that morning that he thought had to fart but chit his pants.i asked him why he just didnt go home and he replied that he wasnt missing any hunt that i was willing to take him on but could i hurry up so he could go home and take a shower to get cleaned up.
i had a big laugh and told him to think of what all he had missed in 56 years of not hunting.

There were 4 of us hunting some public land in south Alabama a few years back. We got to the parking spot at about 3 am and started walking in. We had about a 1.5 mile walk. We got back to a good listening spot on the river and were all standing around listening and whispering back and forth when I saw something coming down the field road running right at us. I had just enough time to open my mouth and point before it went right up in the middle of us and bounced off of about all of us before it got un tangled and left as fast as it came. It looked like a coon but it was so dark none of us could really tell. You talk about 4 guys doing some foot shuffling. Scared the chit out of all of us.

Oh boy.

ain't nothing like chitting yourself for a Dang turkey. I would like to go I'm record and say that I have not done it yet.

I have puked several times though after I shoot one and it just started about 4 years ago for some reason. It is something to do with my nerves or adrenaline or something. I'll puke after every one of them if I need to though so I am not going to complain. It does make anyone who is hunting with me laugh their arse off though.

I've told this one before on here I think but I'll tell it again. I didn't really get started turkey hunting until I was 16. I started hunting with a friend my age who had killed a few and knew more than I did about. We hunted every weekend pretty much and he was doing all he could to get me my first bird.

Well anyway, we hunted a lease I was in that had about a 40 acre pasture on it. The owner baled hay in it and there were hay bales scattered across the field. Well we slipped up on this field and there are 3 gobblers strutting out there, and two of them are strutting on top of hay bales. I've got pictures somewhere I need to dig up but I had never seen that before or since. We managed to set up on them but they weren't leaving the middle of the field and their hens.

So the next weekend I go back by myself because my buddy can't go. I head to the hay field at first light and there's a bird gobbling just off the field. I set up on him and he's answering me and everything else but he's sitting out in the field by Himself and won't do anything. This goes on for about an hour and I get impatient so I plot out a scheme. The bird was strutting about 15 or 20 yards from a bale that was between us. I slip back and get the bale right between us and start slipping. I'm bent over going as fast as I can but watching to be sure I keep a straight line. It was about 150 yards probably and. Took me a while to get to the bale. Finally I made it and peeked around the bale and sure enough he was still there. I threw upon my gun around the bale and shot him at like 30 yards. So that was my first turkey. Sure wasn't the way I would've liked for it to happen but I was as proud as I could be. Since then I've managed to figure out how to kill them with more conventional methods

Have you ever ran a blitz on a gobbler?

My cousin and I set up on a bird one morning that was roosted just off a fresh clearcut. We got as close as we could to a log landing we thought he would fly down in. He flew into the landing and went into strut and seconds later a hen flew in with him. 80 yards out and he won't budge! 3 hours later we're still there watching him strut in circles and my cousin leans over to me and says blitz him. So I use his fan and a few gallberries to crawl within about 60 yards and the next time he turned away in strut I ran all out toward him. I'm pretty sure there were some strange thoughts going through his mind when he hears a racket and looks around to see a bush running at him full speed but it was confusing enough that the next thing through his mind was #4s!

Crenshaw I love those methods.

Some of my favorite kills are the ones I made happen.

I used to meet a buddy a some land in Chilton County. We would pull through the gate and meet at a dusk to dawn light on the property. Well, I was the first one there that morning so I stepped just off the road to pee. My buddy's headlights were coming so I stepped a few more steps off the road to do my business. About the time I get started, all hell breaks loose in a bush 10 feet away. I piss all over creation and jump out in front of my buddies truck and nearly get ran over in the dark. He thought I was being funny and trying to scare him. It turns out that a hen was sitting on eggs and between me almost pissing on her and another truck coming in she takes flight as I am in mid stream. I thought Bigfoot was jealous and was gonna kill me.

What's unconventional about that? Crawlin'>Callin'

X2. I'll take them about any legal way I can get them.

Don't get me wrong I will too I has just rather call one in than stalk one

I will (have done) do anything but shoot one out of a tree when I get too close at daylight. Don't know why, but, I was told a long time ago that it was unethical. However, I did shoot one that I was calling to that was still in his roost tree and then flew from that tree to a tree almost over me. I figured I called him in. The new guys better learn quick that every turkey in the land is not going to come in like the TV shows.

I might would limb launch one too where legal.

I heard someone say they make quite the noise when falling from 30 foot up.

last season.... got on a bird early that had 30+ hens with him just to watch him leave with his entorage. in the process another bird started gobbling good a long way off. figured what the heck, lets go get him. we realized after getting closer that he was across four lanes of traffic, but still answering every time we touched the call. 15 min later this bird decides he wants to cross the road. he pitched up and over hwy 231 barely missing getting hit by 1/2 second. he immediately hits the ground and starts strutting again. he works his way to about 35-40 yrds, i pull the trigger he hits the ground flopping. on my way to him he stands up, runs 50 yards, i pull the trigger again and he flies away never to be seen again... for the next two nights i cant sleep, keep replaying it over and over in my head thinking this has got to stop. we went back an had the same exact thing happen... he pitches up and over 4 lanes of traffic. this time i made sure there was no such thing as a body shot... 25 steps DIRT NAP. best 2 year old kill ever

Great stories guys, keep them coming!

Same here on the limb launching. Never done it, but I have a couple birds that if given the opportuninty I am reserving their seat to my first limb launch. Basterds.

Reminds me of the time I was deer hunting and going in before daylight, I walked under a roost in the pitch dark. For whatever reason every turkey in that tree spooked. I thought a chupacabra had gotten ahold of me. I stayed shook up for most of the morning.

I hope yall are ready for this...

About three years ago I was hunting with a buddy in TN on his dirt. The bird was hammering on the limb when we slipped in as close as we could to him on a road that led to the field his roost tree was located in. Just before the road entered the field it made a hard bend and that was the point that we had to sit down to avoid him seeing us. My buddy told me I was up to bat and he backed off several yards behind me on he road. We sat on the bird with his hens for about an hour and he moved off in the opposite direction so we decided to follow and wait for him to do his thing and be sitting on him when he got lonely. After a couple of hours of sitting, waiting, and calling our fat a$$es needed a samich and decided to call it a morning. On the way back to the truck my buddy told me he dropped his #1 mouth call where we sat up the first time that morning and he needed to try to find it. He showed me the tree he was sitting on and he started looking on one side and I looked on the other. I was on my hands and knees flipping leaves over and just asked him what color the tape was on the call. Just about the time he said it was white with a brown edge on it I noticed my fingers were about an inch away from a hot and fresh pile of sh*t which he deposited that morning. He was doubled over in the road laughing and I was a little hot under the collar.

I was trying to kill my first bird with a bow for our tv show that we had at the time. Everything went perfect, had him at 15 yards full strut . When he turned away from me, I drew and shot him. Well the shot was low and I clipped a leg. He ran off limping and stopped at about 45 yds, shot over him then. I thought "heck he's only got one leg I bet I can catch him" WRONG, I chased him for 200 yards down the field edge with my cameraman filming the entire thing (and he was laughing). I was pissed I had watched this bird for two weeks waiting on this hunt and I blew it. That was probably the one tv show that people asked me about the most

You still have that video?

Early 90"s I carried my brother in law hunting near on some private property in Jefferson County. We had no luck early and headed to the truck. As we neared the paved road I heard a bird gobble across the road on property we couldn't hunt. We eased up to where we could see the road and yelped to the bird. Back and forth we went till he finally walked out into the road. He stood on the centerline and strutted and gobbled. He wouldn't come any closer to us.

Finally a small red pickup came down the road. He'd have to move now. But NOOOO, he stood his ground and the truck stopped maybe fifteen FEET from the strutting gobbler.WTH???? The driver finally honked his horn, launching the bird a hundred yards straight up and over us. I think he landed on Yekruts land in Tennessee!!!!!!!!

You can bet that if he would have stood in the road on me I would have had to pay a $500 deductible to get my grill replaced on my truck, but I could save a Nitro.

I would have killed him

I've told this story on here before but since it's been a few years and we have so many new people, I will share it again.


Many years ago, my grandma had a small plot of land and she kept chickens, ducks, and a few tame turkeys in her yard. My buddy from the whipoorwhill story, is a good friend that grew up with me. So anyway, one year this wild turkey came up and started eating the scratch that my grandma would put out for the tame birds. After a while he didn't even pay any attention to my grandma and grandpa and would just strut around in the yard. He was a small turkey, and had about a 5 inch beard and what looked like 1/2 inch spurs. I was obsessed with turkey hunting back then and still green, so when I found out about this bird, I was more than interested. So one weekend I asked my dad if my buddy and I could go stay with my grandma for the weekend. He said it was ok, and we packed some clothes. Now this wild bird that was hanging around her house would roost in the old peach tree right at the edge of the woods. We hatched our master plan.... we were going to catch that sucker after dark. We played video games in the back room until it was well after dark. We put on our black clothes and snuck out the back door unbeknownst to my grandma. We went around the little house, slipped down the woodline and before you know it we were under the peach tree in some weeds. The turkey was about 8 feet off the ground on one of the lowest branches. The plan wasn't as well thought out because we didn't know who was going to grab the bird. He looked at me and said "On three" and started counting. When he said three both of us sprung up and crashed into each other. I had gotten high enough to get a piece of the bird. I grabbed a handful of feathers and he launched straight up. It turns out that I had him by the tail feathers, and I almost ripped every single one of them out when the bird got up to fly. I guess I interrupted his momentum when I tore his ass end out, and he started down. My buddy was just getting his balance back and was recovering from me crashing into him. The turkey came down right on his shoulders and down his back. One of it's spurs caught him at the base of the neck, and laid him open all the way to the small of his back. I jumped on the turkey when he hit the ground and the fight ensued. I got beat all to heck and lost almost all the skin on my elbow and knees. My friend jumped on the bird and our prize was subdued. We got up victorious and waltzed across the yard like a couple of big dogs. When we got to the porch my grandma was coming out the door after hearing all the commotion, and we waltzed up holding that poor turkey. Both of us were grinning like we really did something and my grandma looked at us with all the blood all over us. She said "Oh my....." and grabbed the turkey out of my hand and threw it off the porch and it took off running never to be seen again. She marched us in the bathroom and broke out the alcohol. Eric had to go get stitches and I had to be patched up. We both looked like we had been through a meat grinder.

I thought my dad was going to beat me to death but he said the turkey did a good enough job. Never did see that bird again.

For the first 4 years that I turkey hunted, I chased and educated a bird to the absolute highest degree possible. I shot a bird (my first) traveling with it, later shot at him on three different occasions, bumped him countless times, and in general just plain out made a monster of him. I was obsessed with him. Towards the end, the turkey eventually learned to stay off of my property altogether.

He always roosted near my property corner about 100 yards down a fence row in the same old oak tree. The fourth year, I got permission to hunt from one of the landowners that shared that old oak. The other landowner had a high fence with the worst habitat a turkey would want to be in. So it would be a slam dunk. I thought about just waiting on him at his roost tree, but erroneously decided to kill him with some dignity. Again he kicked my but the whole season. The following winter I sold my property to the owner of the high fence. As turkey season approached I wanted one last shot at that turkey.

I still had permission to hunt my neighbors place. Opening day comes and I'm heading across the pasture hoping he hasn't died of old age. As daylight cracks he starts gobbling right where he should be, in the old oak tree. I get close and confidently throw what I thought to be a much improved tree yelp his way. He gets quiet for a long time. My heart sinks. He starts gobbling again, and against my better judgement I call again. About twenty minutes goes by and to my amazement he gobbles in the high fence. There's nothing in there but thicket, roads and my turkey. I decided to come back that afternoon and do the unthinkable - shoot him from his roost tree.

I get to the tree without bumping any birds and feel pretty good about my chances. But my history with this bird has been Murphy's Law. I decided that no matter what, I wouldn't make even the softest cluck. With mixed emotions I sat there waiting feeling guilty thinking this bird deserves better than to die like this. Somehow, I fought off the urge to call. As the last few moments of daylight are fading he gobbles. I can't believe my ears. He's on my side of the fence coming to roost. I'm between him and his roost tree. It's finally going to happen. He continues gobbling as he makes his way across the pasture. Just before he tops the hill, I break down and pull out the old yelper. (insert buzzer sound). This freaking lunatic runs back to where he came from and roosts in a different tree for the first time in the 4.5 years I've known him. In a rage of fury, I make my way back to the truck dejected for the last time.

Two days later, I find myself back at his roost tree; still furious and no longer having any reservations about ambushing this turkey. I'm a little embarrassed to admit, but I actually climbed the tree (I don't really know why). Anyway, as darkness fell, I accepted defeat. I decided I would climb down in shame and not return. Just as I'm about to unload my gun, I hear a twig snap. Hear this poor bird comes. His head is as red as a beet, bobbing nervously back and forth and I realize that he's probably like this all day every day. This turkey is coming to roost scared to death. I shot him at about 10 yards and climbed down disappointed to find that he only had 1 1/4" spurs (I'd convinced myself he would be a state record).

To this day, I still have regrets about killing that bird that way. Nah, really I don't.

LOL Longspur, that's one of the best stories yet!

I can't imagine why you climbed the tree. Not only illegal, but it had to put you at a big disadvantage, cause a turkey will spot you in a second in a tree. But that story is great insight into how obsessed turkey hunters can become with a particular bird.

Glad I've never let one affect me that way.

HAHAHAH

You can bet I wouldn't have lost any sleep over it.

X2

I just typed a long story and then deleted it. I decided some things don't need to be told on a public forum.

Pm me, perhaps it was useful or had some turkey killing knowledge of the old master.

There was no useful information.

It might have been, one way or another.

think of it as confessional Preacher, it will be good for you...

troy

My wife and I hunted a bird for a couple of years in Jefferson Co, maybe ten minutes from the house. Quickly named him Arsehole, it aptly fit him. He'd answer you calling to him...and go the other way. Never roosted in the same tree/trees two nights in a row, never went the same way two days in a row.

One morning Mel and I slipped in to a bow blind I had made in the dark, a stab in the dark so to speak, on the slim chance that he was close by. As it got light a couple of hens started the morning conversation and he gobbled maybe 75 yards away with us between him and the hens. I damn sure wasn't going to yelp at him.

He's gobbling good when Mel tells me her gun ain't loaded. WTH? ARRRGGGHHRGGGG! And she's shooting a Montefeltro 3" 12 ga. You can't load them quietly. I stew a second and then tell her to quietly pull the bolt back and wait till he gobbles again. Of course ya know he's in that silence-before-fly down mode now.

Hens are getting close and out of desperation I cackle at him and Mel drops the bolt just as he gobbles. I hold my breath till he gobbles again, on the ground and closer. I see him coming, headed to the small log deck we are set up on. He walks by at ten yards and enters the open deck. I tell Mel to kill him. She gets the gun on him and I realize she is hyper-venelating to beat all. Gun is waving all over the place. I tell her to take a deep breath. Dosen't help. I finally punch her shoulder and TELL her to take a deep breath.

I just KNOW we're going to spook the bird but the blind did it's job. She finally settles down and kills him. Seems like he was 16 er so pounds, with very sharp 1 1/4" spurs....

troy

All right, but you only get the short version.

I was calling to a turkey about 30 minutes before sunset; he was coming in on a rope, drumming all the way; gun aimed toward the turkey, waiting on him to take one more step to get from behind a tree, and all of a sudden he flew up and lit on a limb just above my head.

Sitting there until dark and coming back the next morning wasn't an option; there wasn't a twig between us and he was already stretching his neck all over the place looking at me and trying to figure out where his hen was. It was either shoot him or watch him spook and fly off.

My inner angels were having a heated debate with my inner demons to determine the ethical course of action, when suddenly the gun went off and the turkey came crashing down. As somebody noted earlier, they make a lot of racket falling out of a tree.

I knew it.

I am sure you thought about it alot longer than I did.

Wait..

You guys are killing me with these stories.

On Apr 14, 2003 (day before my oldest was born) I was hunting a small track in north Bibb on which I had gotten on a group of birds a couple of times that were using a steep ridge and the Cahaba River as front and back barriers for roosting. Very early before daybreak that morn, I decided to head towards a strutting spot that I had watched them in a few times already that season. It was cool, and it had rained that weekend and the leaves were wet and fog was rolling off the river making for a quiet/concealed setup. I sat there in the very still for several minutes before the first owl hooted which was immediately answered by (at least) 2 birds less than 100yds away. Just before daybreak, hens began dive bombing all around so I knew the setup was good and it was just a matter of time before the toms hit the ground. The hens actually provided all the calling necessary…I never made a sound that morning. I was able to make one of the gobblers out in a tree and just about daybreak, he pitched and landed about 30yds directly down the barrel and immediately went into strut. A minute or so later, another hen flew down and was cackling as she passed through the woods causing the tom to come out of strut and the rest was history…or not?

Unbeknown to me was that the 2nd gobbler had also landed just behind the 1st but in my moment of concentration, I had not noticed. After the shot, I slowly collected my things while watching the first turkey flop, put everything back into place, buttoned up and proceeded towards the bounty. When I reached him, he was just on the ledge of a very steep, sheer rocky drop into the river. As I peered over the edge thanking God for the morning, His creation, the turkey, etc., I noticed another turkey about 100 yds downhill flopping and gently rolling towards the river. In an instant, I put 2 and 2 together and realized I killed (or at least shot) 2 birds and that the 2nd one was 'getting away'. I began immediately making my way precariously down the rock embankment towards the river. About half way to him, I realized I couldn’t see him anymore and then realized he had made it to the swollen river. I finally make it to the river’s edge and begin running down the bank trying to catch up to him. The whole time I‘m taking the vest off, trying to get out of shirts, etc. because I was going to retrieve this turkey even if it required a dip in the Cahaba. As fate would have it, I caught up to him, was able to get my boots off and wallet out and retrieved him after a short swim in a murky, swollen, cold a$$ river. Needless to say, I had clothes and gear strewn for about 100yds but managed 2 long beards from a single shot along with some cool memories.

This is not a kill story, but another cold water story, and one that might be a candidate for "this happened to me" in Outdoor Life.

Last spring on opening day in NC my two oldest sons were float hunting a large creek with a 10' jonboat. I was hunting up in VA with my brother, and about 10a.m. I called my son's cell phone to check on how their hunt was going. To my surprise, my wife answered his cell phone, at the house. After I recovered from the confusion, she related to me that they'd been home for about 30 minutes and both the boys were in the bed asleep.

Now, since they had nearly a two hour drive to get home from where they were supposed to be hunting, my 2nd grade math skills told me that they sure weren't in the woods very long that morning. So, I asked her to tell them to call me when they go out of bed to give me a hunt report.

Around noon, I got the call, and this was the report I received.

As luck would have it, as they were floating downstream at gobbling time, they had a turkey gobbling, upstream. So, they paddled upstream towards the bird against the current to about where he was, and beached the boat, only to have him shutup before they could get a good line on him. But not all was lost, because as this was unfolding, another bird, back downsteam of course, was getting really loud.

So, they took off on foot towards the gobbling bird. As they got down there to where he was gobbling, they were pained to find out that he was on the other side of the creek. And it was at that moment they remembered why they had brought the boat in the first place. Now, the creek was running high and muddy with all the recent rain we'd had. It was about 20 yds across in that section with steep banks.

The bird was really tearing it up, and the younger son wanted to try to call him across the cold creek. But his older brother wanted to take the fight to the bird. Since the boat was several hundred yards back upstream, it made much more sense to just swim across to the turkey and get on his side of the creek, rather than go way back up there and paddle way back down, or futiley try to make him fly across. Heck, by the time they did all that, the bird would surely be shut up or long gone. Right?

Amid the protests and warnings of his younger brother, he threw caution and good sense to the wind, slid down the bank, gun, boots, vest and all, and proceeded to attempt the crossing. After about two steps, he was in over his head and immediately realized that trying to swim a raging creek while holding his Benelli over his head in one hand, and with two knee-high Lacrosse rubber boots filled with water on his feet, was not such a bright idea.

At the third time going under, he swallowed his pride and started screaming for help. Luckily the younger son had life-guard experience, and had already taken off his vest and put down his gun in case it went badly for his older brother. So, as the screaming commenced he was already pulling off his boots. In a split second he had jumped into the current, and was swimming over to his older brother just as his Benelli was disappearing under the muddy water along with it's owner.

Thanks to younger brother, older brother eventually found himself back on dry land, and breathing good air, though still on the opposite side of the creek from the gobbling turkey.

The last time they heard the bird gobble, he was a lot farther away. And neither one of them was too anxious to bother with him, or any other bird, anymore that day.

I'm guessing the gun was gone.

I was wondering about the benelli too.
I had a friend fell out of his boat while putting cedars out for crappie. It was 15 degrees. He managed to get back in his boat but when he got to the dock his coveralls were frozen solid.

Preacher, I hunted the Jean Watts place just north of Camden, owned by Ralph and Olivia Martin. Named for David Gastons uncle who drowned in a pond there.

Ennyway, I was scouting one afternoon to carry Miss Olivias son the next morning hunting. Hadn't seem/heard anything for a while. I had a bad head cold all season and it was just starting to clear up, allowing me to use a mouth call. I was sitting on the bank of an old road just calling away, dang near non stop.

I hit a break in calling to hear foot steps right behind me. A nice gobbler walked to within ten yards behind me and pitched up maybe 20 yards in front of me. We had much the same conversation ya'll did. I finally decided not to shoot because I now knew EXACTLY where a bird was to hunt in the morning.

Course you already know we didn't kill that bird . I think it's some kind of jinx to know exactly where a bird is....

troy

Actually, he never let go of the gun. He said he was about to let it go but his brother grabbed him just in time...

Great, Im sure he learned something that day.

At least I ain't crazy enough to ever swim for one, but the thought has certainly crossed my mind before. I have waded creeks and busted my rear end on several occasions; cracked the stock on my shotgun on one of them. Glad the boys were ok, Hal!

I hope the statute of limitations has run out on all these illegal kills. Mine might have been in a tree, but at least he was legal.

Troy, you are just more of a sportsman than me. I was raised up in hard times and just never could bear to let anything get away. I came by it honestly - both of my grandfathers went into the water after fish that were getting away, and never thought anything about it.

heck, Preacher I might of made a different decision if I wasn't carrying the landowners son the next morning....

I have shot two out of a tree over the years. Both were cripples that flew off and were found in a tree. One went maybe fifty yards and lit, badly hit. The other flew at least 400 yards across a bean field and lit in a small woodlot. Took a while to find him, finally heard the blood drops hitting the leaves under him.

troy

My dad and I discovered the joy of turkey hunting late in life, but at the same time. When he would kill a turkey, he would completely unload his gun on it; especially if it was still flopping. Anyway, I always gave him a hard time about ruining the breast meat and he always defended himself by never letting one get away.

Unfortunately, I wasn't with him on this hunt, but it's worth sharing anyway. He and a friend, Mr. Martin, decided to split up one morning and try hunting on their own, but not too far apart. Shortly into the hunt Mr. Martin hears my dad shoot followed by a lot screaming and loud commotion. Certain that my dad has shot himself, Mr. Martin takes off running towards his location. Relieved, he finds that my dad hasn't shot himself. Instead, my dad is cussing and rolling around on the ground trying to get away from a huge gobbler that is trying equally hard to get away from him. It turns out that my dad took my advice (the only time to my knowledge) and decided to run out to the turkey and put his foot on the birds head. But somehow, the gobblers head rolled when he stomped it and my dad blew his knee out falling on the turkey. Ohhhhh how I wish I had been there.

One of my favorite video moments is of the next bird we killed together. I called up a turkey for him. As always, he shot it as soon as he could see the head (which makes for a crappy turkey video). Anyway, I just sat and kept recording after the shot as he made his way to the bird. Somewhere along the way he picked up a 5' long cedar fence post and spent the next 5 minutes beating the hell out of the turkey. He said he might start unloading on them again, but he'd never step on another one's head.

So far there has only been one instance where I wish I had a nitro or TSS. I had a demon of a bird I had been after for 3 years at 70 yards strutting on a limb one morning. Well, you know what would have happened.

One time a took a good friend of mine turkey hunting that had never killed one. He was fresh off of a rotator cuff surgery on his right shoulder too. We went to his leases outside of Eufaula that was loaded with birds. We set up and I called one in text book perfect. We when he shot the turkey went flopping one direction and my friend went flopping and hollering in the other direction. Seems the gun kicked perfectly on his fresh surgery repaired shoulder

A buddy and myself chased two gobblers all morning over his Coffee Co lease one day. Well about lunch time they finally quit gobbling and we had given up. As we rounded a bend in the road there they were. One gobbler ran off and one flew up into a tree right over our heads. I looked at my friend and said "well technically that's not a roost", click.....boom.

I went to school with Ralph Jr when he was at Catherine Academy and knew his family well.

This was probably the most interesting kill I ever had.

I was hunting merriams with my brother in UT on a beautiful mountain covered in poderosa pines and scrub oaks. We struck a gobbler about an hour before sunset. That side of the mountain had beautiful meadows terraced around the side of the mountain. It reminded me of the rice pattie terraces you see on the side of mountains in southeast Asia. There slopes were wooded, with the terraces being open meadow.

Anyway, we got set up on the back side of one of the terraces against an oak, and as the turkeys approached, it turns out there were multiple birds. And they ended up being below us on the next terrace down.

Well, here came a couple hens, and a tom was right behind them, down on the terrace below us. I had wanted to set up on the front side of the terrace we were on, but older brother vetoed it, so there we were a good 40 yd shot from the birds.

The tom wouldn't completely stop, so I took a shot at him, and off he flew, along with the hens. But at my shot, another tom gobbled, on the same terrace closer in where we couldn't see him due to the slope and our position at the back of the terrace we were on above him.

So, I stood up to move across our terrace, but there he was looking right at me. So, I put the gun up, and just as I was pulling the trigger, older brother gave me a little nudge to move on up closer. He didn't realize I had the bird in my sights.

Well, I hit the bird, but not good enough, and he flapped and got airborne and made it into a clump of oak brush at the base of a ponderosa. So, I tore down the slope after him, with my brother close behind.

I got there standing in the waist high oak brush looking for my bird and all the sudden, he came tearing out of the brush running around me to my left. Well, holding my gun in my right hand, I instinctively lunged towards him, grabbing him by the neck with my left hand.

Well, upon finding himself in my one-handed choke hold, he commenced to flapping and clawing and going absolutely berserck. He was pummeling me with his wings and, I feared, about to rip my hand to shreds. So, I hollered to my brother to "take the gun!!" so I could get my other hand on him and body slam him to the ground.

He grabbed my gun and I bear hugged the bird to pin his wings to me and took him down with my full weight on him so I could turn the tables more in my favor.

From my improved position, I was able to finish strangling him without being injured any further in the process.

He was a pretty bird, and my first merriams.

I was 12 and it was my first. My Dad and a good friend took me hunting about every morning I could go trying to get me my first turkey. We found a bird on the club that was one of those call and run the other way birds. After 2 days of this we(they) decided that somebody would kill the turkey so we split up. He was using a hardwood holler between two planted pine thickets that ran from the bottom up to the dirt road.
We get there that morning and try him. Sure enough he is right where he is supposed to be. So Daddy and I go in the bottom about 200 yards or so from where he is and our buddy goes just off the dirt road about 150 yards from the turkey. I guess it was just meant to be. We basically picked a spot that we thought the turkey would maybe come by since we weren't gonna call. Daddy told me he would back off behind me 50 or so yards and told me what tree the turkey had to get inside. I don't remember if we had a time for our friend to start calling. Well as we had planned he starts calling and the turkey starts going directly the other way from him straight to us. I'm an impatient 12 yo at the time and he didn't run to me so I'm getting ancy. After an eternity (probably 5 min)I remember looking back at Dad and turning around to see this glowing red head in the middle of a black ball of feathers. He get's inside the tree and I shoot. Copper plated lead at 35 yards with a wobbling barrel didn't kill him stone dead but I didn't know that. I look to my right and hear comes what looked like sasquatch running through the woods to this bird. It was Daddy, he's 6'1" 265-270 lbs in a dead sprint and some how he grabs a dead limb and starts beating this turkey all through this bottom. I'm thinking WTH is going on but we got him. The turkey had curved 1.125 spurs with needle points and 2 beards a thick 11.25 and a thin 7ish. I have the spurs beards and fan mounted, but my only regret is that I don't have a picture of me, turkey or the whole group. Since then every bird I have killed has at least had its picture taken just for memories sake

I killed a turkey once that taught me to look around for a good place to set up before I did any locater calling. I had fooled with a bird that I set up on at daybreak for 2 1/2 hours before he finally walked off out of hearing still gobbling occasionally. I was walking back to my truck and stopped on a high hill in the middle of the pasture no more than a 100 yards from where my truck was parked at the gate. I took my box call out and thought I'd give one last desperate cast as I used call it. I yelped on the box and a bird thundered just inside the tree line to my left. I mean he could not have been 10 yards out of the field. He was so close I flinched when he gobbled. Then I looked around and realized I had no where to set up. I was in the middle of the field. It was way too far to the tree line in any direction except directly to-wards where the bird gobbled. I turned and ran directly away from the gobbler, down the back side of the hill I was on to the one little lone pine tree out in the field. It was way too small to hide my big ass. About as big around as a coffee can. So laid down on my stomach behind it and started trying to get my hood and gloves on. The bird thundered again and he was obviously out in the field; just over the rise of the hill I had been standing on top of; and coming hard. I had one glove on and finally just settled for getting my hood positioned where I could see out one eye hole. I got my gun up and aimed at the crest of the hill. I knew it wouldn't take long for him to smell a rat when he topped that hill so as soon as enough of his head peeked above it enough for me to see his waddles I shot. The bottom part of my pattern plowed the ground but I got him. I still walk past that same tree on the way to hunt turkeys and I think of that hunt every time I do. And now I make sure I stop and call only in places I could find cover quickly if I needed to.

I took an exec from Delta Waterfowl hunting in Sumter County on one of my personal leases about 10 yrs back. We were in some 15 year old pines that had recently been burned and I knew I had a bad turkey in there. He was roosted near a loading deck that still had some trash in it so, we were able to get fairly close to him after fly down. Well, the turkey starts hammering at everything I throw at him, but I can hear hens cutting up in there with him, as well. They weren't leading him away so, I'm thinking we have a chance. Not long into the hunt we hear a massive fight between some of the turkeys. When they settled down I called one last time and put my calls up. Well, the gobbler starts loosing his patience so I gave him the silent treatment. A few minutes later I hear the drumming getting louder and louder. I can tell he's moving around to my left. I tell the guy and he doesn't move. The turkey is about to clear the edge of the trash and be in sight and range, so I tell him again to move his gun left and be watching. He says, "no, I'm looking down my gun barrel at him right now." Before I can even turn his way the bad turkey gobbles to my left right where I thought he was. Ticked off a little, I turn to see what he's looking at. To my surprise, there's a poor two year old that's just had his butt kicked attempting to breed a 10" diameter pine stump. I quickly get my camera around and got some of it on video. I couldn't believe it. What a crappy day for that turkey. The hunter was kind enough to let him finish his business before putting him out of his misery at 20 yards. Of course the bad turkey just got another diploma and went on his way. But, a great hunt none the less.

He shot a turkey load on a newly surgically repaired shoulder? Kinda asking for that one lol.

I'm taking a friend who has never turkey hunted before tomorrow to pattern his 870. He is picking up some 3" magnums today for hunting. I'm debating whether I'll let him start with the #8's I'm taking or let him tough it out with the mags. It's all about the experience, right?

Give him the 8s then a magnum.

This story will make Troy cringe, but since you shared I will too.


Several years ago, I took off opening morning of turkey season. I got up that morning eager to get started and I heard the raindrops hitting the roof. So I turned the TV on and they said it was going to rain until 5:30am and then quit, but it was supposed to start again at 8 am. So I take off for the club.

I get to the woods don't hear squat. Of course by 7:05 it starts raining again. I had a ground blind I had put on a little clover patch just for those rainy days. I figured since I was there and it was raining I would just go sit in my blind. So I walk down the long road to my blind and got in it just as it started raining a little bit harder. I sat in the chair and yelped on my mouth call and I hear a hen answer me with some loud cutting about a hundred yards in the pines in front of me. About 5 minutes went by and I look to my left and there are two longbeards standing in the clover patch. Now my blind is back in some stuff so I couldn't see them perfectly because of all the brush. So I watch them a few minutes as they are out of range and through the thick stuff. Then they dissapeared. I sat there dejected thinking the morning was over and then they reappeared a little closer but still behind too much brush. I watched them for a few minutes and then I had an idea. I slowly opened the unzipped door/flap and peeked out and there was a hole I could shoot through and the gobblers were almost in it. I eased out of my chair, poked my gun out of the door and got ready. He stepped into the opening and I guessed it at 40 yards and pulled the trigger. Down that turkey went and the one behind him flew up about 10 feet came back down and just stood there. Then he takes off running up the road towards my blind. He dissapeared behind some brush and the reappeared in the front of my blind running. Except he had 4 other longbeards with him. I watched all five of them run up the road and out of sight. I thought to myself, man those five will be fun to fool with when they settled down. Then I got out of my blind and eased into the clover patch and there were three longbeards laying there. One in the field and two in the pines just on the edge of the field. I hated it, but it was what it was. I brought all three home and all three of them had 11+ inch beards (One was 12 1/4) and the shortest spurs of the three were 1 1/4.

Another one.


Back in the 90's after I got out of school, I was working at US Steel on night shift, On Mar 14th I was supposed to get off of work at 11pm but I worked a little OT and finished my shift at 3 am. The only problem is that it started turning cold and raining at 11 am and rained turned to sleet, and then finally to snow before midnight. The weather was just bizarre.

So anyway I get off of work and thought, "To heck with it, I am going anyway". So I take off for Perry Co. and when I get there I went to one of my listening spots. Well, as you can imagine it was completely silent that morning. I didn't even hear a tweety bird peep. So well after gobbling time I decided to walk across a cutover and check out a roosting area. So I am walking down this road and I see a turkey walking up the road right towards me at about 200 yards. Now here I am in the middle of this clearcut and there is a turkey walking right at me. I can't go nowhere or even move.... there's just nowhere to go. So I just stand there. That turkey walked all the way up that road right towards me and I just stood there. When he got to 20 yards I just raised my gun and dusted him. Not the most exciting hunt, but bizarre nontheless. I guess he thought I was a tree or something?

Dumb ol birds.

I got over "cringing" bout six years ago.....

troy

Last year me and a buddy went hunting one morning and didnt see squat. As we were heading back to his house we noticed about 10 turkeys in a cow pasture. The pasture belonged to a family he knew so we decided to stop and see if we could get permission to ease out there.
We went in the house to talk to the man who lived there. Now, I had never met the man so I didn't know what to expect. As were talking to him I realize its 10am on a Wednesday and he's already wasted. This should be fun...
As were talking he gives us the go ahead, until his mom walks in to the living room. Overhearing the conversation we're having she says,"You can't kill them turkeys, them's my pets!" We all start laughing thinking shes joking.
We head outside to where he directs us to the side of the house. We walk through the gate and see the turkeys on top of a hill maybe 175yds away walking away from us. This cow pasture was bordered by woods on each side. So we made our way to the wood-line to flank the turkeys as they walked to the other side of the hill. We start hauling butt through the woods. As we're running I step in a hole,trip,fall,roll, and jump running.
Somehow, the turkeys heard us running through the woods and where plenty spooked by the time we reached them. My buddy took a shot and missed before I caught up with him. So all I really get to see is turkeys flying off.
We walked back down the middle of the cow pasture and the his friend is sitting at the fence frantically waving to us. We run down there to him to see whats going on. He told us we needed to go around the other side of the house because "Mamas" mad...
Apparently she wasn't kidding. Them really was her pets...

Oh that's awesome! I take y'all got out without facing her again.

Yep . Haven't been back since.

All this talk about limb launching got me thinking.. One afternoon I went in to hunt some hardwoods surrounded by small pines and such. I didn't any more get sat down and it blew up a little storm. It went to thundering and a turkey went to gobblin bout a hundred yards behind me. Well i yelped and here he come i got turned around safety knocked off knowing i was gonna get to shoot. Now though it was only 3:15 in the afternoon, it had turned off pretty dark because of the storm clouds. I watched that bird make his way down through the woods and at about sixty yards he stopped and flew straight up in a big ole tall pine... I couldn't beleive it! I got some trees between me and him and put the crawl on him- at 4:26 I had finally worked close enough to take a shot. They make a hell of a racket when they hit the ground, but taste the same when they hit that hot grease