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Author Topic: The Limbhanger's Story Thread  (Read 445 times)

Offline dublelung

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The Limbhanger's Story Thread
« on: February 11, 2020, 10:36:15 AM »
Share your hunt, details of the hunt, or random pics from the hunt here.
"All turkey hunters I know use dirty words regularly" Colonel Tom Kelly

Offline wchadw

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The Limbhanger's Story Thread
« Reply #1 on: March 29, 2020, 11:47:33 PM »
I check the watch. 5:30am. Gotta hit the highway. Third outing of the 2020 season in The great state of Mississippi.  Corona virus has been hell on my turkey season with wife and kids. I feel like Jack Nicholson in The Shining. “All work and no play makes Chad a dull boy”. Wet and drizzling in central Mississippi this morning as I pass into Simpson county. The sun is just starting to break the darkness. Watch says 6:30. I’m running late. Finish my last swallow of coffee, pull up to the gate and think to myself “third times a charm”. Today’s the day. Turn off the headlights and roll down the windows just in case I hear a gobble on the dirt road headed to the cabin. No love. Pull up in front of shed and cut off truck. Fish around for my lucky hat. Old 80s style trucker hat with the NWTF flying turkey logo in military camo that I got when I talked my dad into paying to join nwtf when I was a kid. Get out and unlock shed and wheel out my old mountain bike. Be quicker that way. Head out down to the big white oak patch on the creek where they like to roost and found a big pine tree off the logging road and sat down. No gobbles on bike ride and short walk after ditching the bike. Just the sound of last nights rain drops dripping from leaves. gave a few yelps and no response. Sun was up good by now. Long shadows cast on the logging road from the tall pines. Watch says 7:05. Guess they are hanging on the roost. Decided to do a few clucks and just shut up and wait and see if something comes in quiet or hear anything fly down. Halfway expecting to hear hen yelping. Waited. Nothing but birds chirping. Few more yelps on the buice trumpet. I strain my ears to hear better. Nothing. Decided to wait for another 30 or so and head to clover field on top of the hill where they would surely head to dry out after a wet night.

Watch check. 8:30. Times up, time to move. Hop on bike and head back to cabin. Decide to pickup some decoys out of the lawnmower shed for the open field.  Dad would say “that’s cheatn” but Don’t want one hanging up on the far side. I’m shooting something today. Keep on pedaling.

Ditch the bike a couple hundred yards out and Hit the field. Layout my spread. A deke and lay down hen. Sure to make any gobbler jealous. Climbed up the embankment where they pushed up the dirt when they cleared the food plot when we planted it the first year. Makes a great vantage spot and I have old tree stumps pushed up that makes a make shift natural blind. Put up
Trumpet and got out old trusty grey slate. Soft yelping and some clucks. Few minutes later 2 jakes sneak in across the far side of field and look at my decoys. Not impressed. They pick at bugs in the clover for what seems like an hour. Thoughts creep into my head about smoking one but decided better not.
They get bored with my setup and wander off. Few soft yelps on the slate pot. Did I hear a gobble? I swear I thought I did. Hit a cutt and “Yes sir!” that was a double gobble. Probably 150 to 200 yards out. I give it a minute and he fires off again unprovoked. Watch says 10 o’clock. It’s ON for sure now. I dig down hard on the slate for a series of cutts and boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Wait 5 minutes, no calling. They fire off again. Yea boy. coming in hot.  Eager 2 year old. Gotta love em. Gobbles. They have cut distance in half. Cutt and yelp. Gobble gobble. There’s 2 coming. Put down the Cody slate and pickup the over under. Should be any minute now.  Coming in from behind me up the old logging road. I get ansy and pick up the slate and cutt. Boom. Boom. Right behind me. Loud enough that my teeth rattle. Try not to move a muscle. Legs are shaking a little.

Incoming. Running full on and pops fan to slow himself down. He’s preoccupied with my decoy, So I pull my 20 up slow. Click goes the safety.  Boom. A puff of feathers and his head hits the ground. My hand loads doing work. His running buddy come blazing in thru the feathers still floating down and jumps on my deke. Doesn’t seem to concerned that I just decapitated his partner. Looks like he snapped the decoy stake and it rolls back. For a second I consider doubling up. Decided to shoot him another day and let out one of my famous “mouth gobbles” to scare him off. He fires right back. On my second attempt to gobble by mouth he realized something wasn’t right as the decoy rolled on its back. he turned tail and headed for the woods.



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« Last Edit: April 14, 2020, 06:55:01 PM by wchadw »

Offline MS Boy

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The Limbhanger's Story Thread
« Reply #2 on: March 30, 2020, 03:36:27 PM »
When Things Go Right....

Let’s get this out the way first, I suck at writing/telling stories, so now we got that out of the way it was the morning of March 28th, Saturday to be exact we were hunting in Quitman, MS and last nights sleep sucked to say it mildly as the camp’s a/c was not working and the dumb- drunk guy across the street decided at 1:40am to ride around on his side-by-side so the 5:00am alarm came to early but none the less it’s turkey season and I am pumped and my good buddy John is as well. So we took off from camp and headed to a place down by a creek that we had hoped would be holding some turkeys, and as day broke I wooted like a owl and the crack of the gobble we heard was a long ways off so it was time to do some walking and walking we did, as we got close to where I thought I heard the gobble it was time to make another soft yelp, and another gobble was sent in our direction as it had to have been another hundred yards away as day break had now come, I said let’s move another forty to fifty yards closer and set-up again and as we did I yelped, and a double gobble came our direction and I felt like we where “in the chips” as most gamblers would say, so I got quiet and waited ten minutes, then 20 mins, as the time passes with no gobble, dang should I call or wait some more, I had to know, so I called again and a double gobble again I said it’s time to play the quiet game with him and let’s see, ten more minutes, and he gobbles and was closer than before and gobbles again and I can hear drummen but can’t see him, geez my heart is pounding with excitement now and I tell my buddy to get ready he is coming and he gobbles again now at 50 yards and coming in, there is the turkey, my buddy says to me and I say shot when you feel good and boom and the turkey rolls over and starts to run my buddy jumps up and runs after the turkey and I hear boom again and my buddy let’s out a big owl woot back at me letting me know what he just did, the hunt was over by 7:40am. As I sit there the next few moments, I was thinking to myself man this turkey hunting is awesome but when you get to share it with your best friend and know that the good Lord above has given each of us this right to hunt, and that each of us are truly blessed and should praise him for this gift !!

Here is the picture of John with the turkey and below is a picture of me carrying the turkey out of the woods cause it’s our tradition between us.

God Bless,
Danny Dossett Jr.







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Offline dublelung

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Re: The Limbhanger's Story Thread
« Reply #3 on: March 31, 2020, 08:31:21 AM »
Awesome stories fellas!
Here's the one from my 2nd gobbler of the season which also happened to be the smallest longbeard I've ever killed. He was the most special to me as he was shot with the only gun my grandmother ever owned. A 1936 Winchester model 42 410. I tried the Apex Ninja's in it and was shocked at how well it patterned so I was determined to kill a gobbler with it.
The hunt started with me at my listening spot sipping coffee anticipating a gobble from the creek bottom they usually roost near. About the time I sipped coffee I heard a gobble way off but couldn't course it. A few minutes later he fired off again and was a long way from where I'd hoped. I didn't hesitate blazing a trail his direction but about halfway to him another one started gobbling much closer to me but on the edge of private land bordering my lease. I hit the brakes and made my way toward the gobbler who was gobbling every couple minutes. He was roosted on the private but I had plenty of room to work with as long as he'd be willing to cover a little ground. Well little did I know, covering ground was his specialty. He hit the ground on private and stayed on private for a good 2 hours but moved back and forth up and down an open hardwood bottom. I'd haul butt one direction hoping he'd keep going then he'd turn and go back almost out of hearing. I'd loop around that direction and he'd head the opposite. He finally got onto my lease and started heading south toward a food plot so I attempted to get ahead of him and ended up spooking him at 8:45. He putted a few times and walked off but at least he was more into my lease so I just stayed put and decided to see if he'd start back up. After 45 minutes of silence I decided I'd had enough and was going to another lease close by and see if anything was going on there. About 200 yards into my walk out the bird hammered to my right barely in hearing distance so I went into the creek bottom and closed the distance on him. He'd answer me every time I yelped but was continuing to go away from me. I finally decided I'd have to get ahead of him to have any chance of killing him so I eased uphill into the pine plantation and made a wide loop to get ahead of him. Once I figured I was far enough I went back into the open bottom and started toward the gobbler. Once I got about 100 yards from him I could hear him drumming so I knew I had to set up quick. It was thicker than what I would've preferred but I didn't want to risk spooking him again. I pulled out my slate and made a couple light clucks on it and for the first time all morning, he didn't answer. I didn't hear drumming anymore either so I was kicking myself in the butt for thinking I'd managed to screw it up somehow. Five minutes later a hawk screamed overhead and he gobbled again but had moved to my left a little and was very close! I heard him drum again and finally saw him about 60 yards away through a small opening. He was in full strut and his waddles were as bright red as any I'd ever seen before. He'd come out of strut, stretch his neck, then bow back up spinning around. I wasn't about to call again with him looking so hard. He'd take a few steps then repeat the strutting routine. Once he got within 35 yards I knew he was close enough but the cover was just too thick to risk shooting through. The small creek was between us so I knew the chance of him coming straight to me was near zero. Fortunately he kept inching my way and finally hit a small opening at 32 yards and I shot! He folded! The gobbler only had a 6.5" beard and 11/16" spurs but to me at that moment he was a 12" bearded giant! 


"All turkey hunters I know use dirty words regularly" Colonel Tom Kelly

Offline chbarnha

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Re: The Limbhanger's Story Thread
« Reply #4 on: April 14, 2020, 06:19:42 PM »
Well as y’all know from the texts I been having a hell of a time with that 20ga I thought I had ready to roll. Saturday was uneventful for me which was our opener. Easter Sunday I went in a block we call the quarter acre. Got on a bird around 830 or so and he came to me with a jake.  Well the old boy put me in a bind and I tried to shoot him left handed..... terrible idea. Fast forward to today and I go back in the quarter acre after trying a few other spots. I wasn’t expecting much but just setup and did some soft calling occasionally. Well low and behold here he comes again. This time on my left side which gave me no excuses. I whiffed again at 25 yards. Completely disgusted at this point I went to the truck cussing myself for my poor shooting abilities and decided to hop in the truck and go try another piece we call the doe hole with the 12ga as I, at this point have lost all faith in the 20. I walk in past the house and get to a turn in the road that goes to what we call the sawdust pile. Now keep in mind that the birds in this piece are known for being particularly cantankerous old souls that hardly ever want to cooperate. I hit a few notes on my big j calls copperhead cane yelper and got a response. I couldn’t tell quite how far he was but figured this turn in the road would be as good a spot as any to setup. I got situated and hit him with a few seductive yelps from a Lonnie Sneed Outlaw Hen and he answered again. I gave him a bit and hit him one more time and now instead of being straight out front he was to my left and CLOSE. Wasn’t but a few seconds and I could see that blue and white head bobbing at about 30 yards. My confidence at this point was about shot but I figured I’d give him what I had. When I pulled the trigger I honestly expecting him to fly off like the previous bird has done me twice now.... nope he went down in a pile. This was either the longest or second longest spurred bird I have ever killed and sported an 11” beard. Needless to say the 20 won’t be making any more trips in the woods this year. Good luck fellas, let’s win this thing.


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Shoot em in the pecker.... you know the beak