Hevishot and TSS are not the same thing. Both are denser than lead but it's a matter of how much denser. Hevi Shot is 12g/cc and TSS is 18g/cc. TSS can only be purchased as loose shot for reloading purposes.

I killed my first bird on my 15th birthday, after hunting him for four days in a row. I finally killed him at 11:30 am on the fifth day after deciding to put my woodsmanship and stealth to good use. You folks can argue that isn't a meaningful hunt , but I can promise you it is my most memorable. AND, since that was my intro to turkey killing I have put many a great stalk on one, and that is much more difficult than calling one in.

Funny thing how people enjoy different things.

The bird I enjoyed most was one I eventually just belly crawled up to a tree and stood up and pointed the gun around it and waited. A few minutes and that joker was dead.

I worked him for about 6 hours that day, and he wouldn't leave where he wanted to go. Set up on him around 5 times. Gobbled like crazy. Was one of them Bankhead turkeys that took me 2 hours to walk out after it was over.

>>>Funny thing how people enjoy different things.<<<

And its also funny how the ones we remember the most are the ones that get away.

One I will never forget was when I was 15 yrs old. It was late in the season, and my dad had his limit and I hadn't killed a one. I'd had a problem with my gun, a very poorly made Spanish SXS that got to where one barrel wouldn't shoot. The gunsmith kept it all season, and I'd been using a borrowed gun, and finally got my gun back one night. My dad said I could hunt before school by myself the next morning, and its the only time I can remember that he let me borrow his rifle to take with me too. I guess he really wanted me to get one. He knew where a turkey was gobbling, so I got in the 51 Chev pickup and took off early. No drivers license, of course, but didn't have far to go.

The turkey gobbled where I expected, and I took off down the road with a gun in each hand. He never gobbled again, but I was pretty sure of where he was and set up just right, along an old road. I took out my homemade box, scratched out a yelp, and immediately heard wings beating the air. The gobbler flew straight to me and lit in the road about 20 yds away. I had killed a couple of jakes before, but this was gonna be my first longbeard, and it was gonna be an easy shot.

As I was shouldering the SXS, I flipped off the safety, and when I did both barrels went off. The gun jumped out of my hand and smacked me in the mouth, busting my lip pretty bad. The turkey flew off. I had to play in a baseball game that afternoon and everyone on both teams kept asking me what happened to my lip.

I been trying to get even with them for that incident ever since.

How did I miss this aldeer gold?

TTT

Preacher how do you keep ending up with these malfunctioning side by sides from across the water?

I think that gun did great damage to my psyche. I spent years trying to get it fixed and never could. I think buying the Yildiz was some kind of psychological attempt to make up for the failures of the Spanish gun.

LOL, I see the trend now.

Keep trying Preach.

Preacher, as a newbie, I really enjoy your stories but i've read this whole thread and have come to the conclusion your not a REAL turkey hunter. Your just a turkey killer. How do you deal with the shame?

Its just the way I was raised. I have no problem with being a turkey killer. Let some other poor schmuck be the "sportsman" who lets the turkey live so he can play the game another day. I'm a blasting him, taking him home, and frying him for supper. I can live with that just fine.

I carried that gun to 3 or 4 different gunsmiths, and none of them could ever fix it. I finally carried it to a friend who was a machinist, not a gunsmith, and he was gonna make some parts for it. I don't know what he did to it, but he completely ruined it somehow. He never would tell me what happened to it and to this day I don't even know where it is. The pieces are probably in his shed somewhere. If I outlive him, I'm gonna scrounge thru all his stuff and find it.

I still have dreams about that gun. I'm still thinking that someday I'm gonna get my gun fixed and kill a turkey with it. It was so pretty; just wouldn't shoot.

There might be some funny team names this year because of this thread

I'm with you a 100% Preacher.

Bill, the regulars here might remember this story that I wrote several years ago, but I will bury it in this thread just for you. Maybe it will give you a little more insight into the circumstances that turn a guy into a turkey killer.

TWTMUG

I honestly can’t remember getting up that morning – it was 42 years ago and my memory ain’t that good. But I’m sure I was excited when my dad called me to get up and get ready to go turkey hunting with him. I was in the 8th grade and it was a school day, but school didn’t start until 7:45. We would have a couple of hours to hunt before he had to go to work and I had to go to school. He went nearly every morning, but he didn’t often let me go with him during the week. I could get up and go by myself around the house, but I usually didn’t hear anything when I did that. Today, I was going to a place loaded with turkeys.

My dad put me out in the dark at an old road at the bottom of a hill, and he went a little further down the road. He told me to be back by 7 a.m., and under no circumstances was I to be late. I was on my own, and he was putting a lot of trust in me. I had my 20 gauge pump, a homemade box call, and a brown canvas hunting coat. I probably had on blue jeans, but really can’t remember. I remember being excited at getting to go to such a good place. It was a tract of land that was covered with big hardwoods and a few big pines, with an old field on top of the hill. I had killed 2 jakes in my turkey hunting career, but I desperately wanted a longbeard, and I thought this might be the day to get him.

I climbed the hill to the top and listened in old field. Right at dawn, a turkey gobbled to the west and I went to him and set up. I yelped at him on my box and got a response, but then a hen started yelping between us. I had excellent hearing back then, and after listening to the calling for a while, I decided that it was my uncle yelping on a Lynch box. I knew that he was coming into the area from the other side some days, and I was convinced that was him, and not a hen.

I was trying to decide if I should leave and go somewhere else, when I heard the strangest gobble I’d ever heard back to the east. He started out strong, but about halfway through the gobble he switched to what sounded like a cough. I’ve heard thousands of turkeys since then, but never heard another gobble quite like this. I’d heard jakes before, and I knew this turkey was different. I quickly started thinking of him as the Turkey With The Messed Up Gobble – TWTMUG.

As soon as I heard him, I left the first bird and headed his direction. I distinctly remember fighting through the briers in the old field, but that was the quickest way to him and that’s the way I was going. The first setup on him didn’t work out. He gobbled several times at my calls, but went the other way. But he was gobbling at everything, so I didn’t know if he was really interested in me or not. I finally moved up several hundred yards and eased up to the hardwoods from the edge of the old field. As I was looking down into the bottom, he suddenly gobbled just out of sight. I had to just sit down on the ground, without a chance to hide or sit against a tree. I yelped at him and he answered, and in a moment I saw him! He had a nice long beard and was a beautiful turkey; it was just his gobble that was unique.

I was hoping he would come right to me, but instead he climbed the hill to my south and stood in the edge of the old field about 100 yds away. I yelped again, and he answered again, and then started to me, coming through the big hardwoods toward me. He went down into a dip, then started up the hill coming right at me. He sure wasn’t in a hurry, but he was definitely on his way.

It was at this moment that I remember looking at my watch – it was 6:50. I was a 10 minute walk from the meeting place. I rationalized that it could be a 5 minute run, so if the turkey would come on, I could still make it. He didn’t. He stopped about 50 yds below me and gobbled and strutted and drummed. I now had to make a decision. The responsible thing to do was to get up, run back to the meeting place, and hope that I could get him another day. Or I could stay and try for the turkey, and then face the consequences. The consequences would be steep – a certain whipping, a ban from hunting the rest of the season, a 0 on the English test I had first period, and everybody around would be mad at me. But the possible reward was getting to carry out TWTMUG. It was a difficult decision for an almost 14 year-old to make, especially under such intense pressure.

And so I made my decision – I would stay after the turkey and face the consequences later. There was just no way I could stand up and flush my prize gobbler and watch him fly off; not when I was so close to success. I forced my punishment out of my mind and focused on the turkey. There was no way to call again; he was staring directly at me and he would surely see me if I tried to use the box. I waited, and finally he started toward me again. I knew that I need him at 30 yds for the 20 gauge to kill him, and he only needed to take a few more steps. At 35 yds, he started to go behind a big oak, and I had my gun aimed at the other side of it. Just before his head went out of sight, he stopped and started staring a hole right through me. I wasn’t camouflaged, and he knew something wasn’t right. I knew he was suspicious, but I was afraid that if I tried to move the gun and shoot him there he would get behind the tree and be gone. And the range was iffy too. I made the responsible decision this time; I would wait.

Finally, the head disappeared and I got ready. As soon as he came out, I would shoot him and then hurry down the hill, grab my turkey, and sprint for the truck. 30 seconds went by and he didn’t appear. A minute – no turkey. 2 minutes, and a sick feeling came into my stomach. I finally slid around on the ground so that I could see behind the tree and my worst fears were confirmed – my turkey was gone. He had put the big tree between us and than ran about 75 yards and gone over the hill, without me even catching a glimpse of him. It was one of the biggest disappointments I’d ever experienced.

I got to the meeting place at 7:20. Daddy had left me, and there was a note on the ground with a rock on it. There were no pleasantries in the note – it simply said, “Stay here and wait on your mother.” I did. She came up in the car in about 20 minutes. She was mad. She carried me to school and the principal was mad. My English teacher was really mad. That night I got the expected whipping, and the ban for the rest of the season was pronounced. I didn’t complain about any of the punishment – I knew it was coming as soon as I decided to stay after the turkey.

I never heard the TWTMUG again. But I think of him often. And I think of what I learned from the experience – things about responsibility, dependability, and the consequences for failure to live up to the expectations placed upon us. I think about those things and I wonder if my experiences and wisdom gained over the past 42 years would lead me to a different decision today. Are you kidding? My only regret is that the turkey got away!

My favorite turkey story posted on aldeer by far! I love it!

Yes

I love that story PCP....Thanks for sharing, again!

Wow he made that simple

LOL....I'm a simple kind of guy....

That settles it....
Actually I swung by Camo Country in Wetumpka and they had them for 22 dollars. 5 shells. Broke down and bought 2 boxes.