Was just reading a similar post about turkey hunting tradition. It got me thinking about any cool stories when you guys got hooked. Maybe it was a particular moment in time? Like in my case, it may not have even been while you were turkey hunting. I'm 29, started turkey hunting when I was 24. I'm from NJ, primarily fish in the salt and duck hunt. Not much turkeys to speak of. After college, I lived Henderson county Illinois working for a grain company on the Mississippi. I was still-hunting with my bow during deer season and one morning, I heard something come in behind me. Almost sounded a squirrel, didn't think much of it. All of sudden this gobbler that was maybe 5 yards from me just absolutely hammered. It was like lightning going through my bones. This was in December 2016 and at that point, I was hooked. I don't think I've deer hunted a day in my life since and I spend probably 40 spring mornings per in the woods from April to June. Any interesting stories about the first time you knew this was going to be an addiction?
The first time I heard one gobble. I don't even remember how old I was. I was always infatuated with turkeys. No one in my family targeted turkeys. They were always just a target of opportunity when they were brought home. And that wasn't often.
Similar to Happy, don't remember when or how old I was but still full dark in the woods and one hammering into that silence. I was done for. I've been useless ever since. And when I'm dying if I happen to be in a bed someplace I hope to god somebody comes and plays a recording of the early morning spring woods.
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Spring of 1966. Sitting on a blown over cypress tree with my Dad on a South Central Florida WMA. Heard one gobble. I remember it like it was yesterday. I whispered to my Dad what was that, his reply is something I think about almost every time I hear one to this day. He simply said "that's the reason we're here". The bird continued to gobble and each time he did he just set the hook a little deeper. I've not had a good nights sleep since.
As a young kid attending a local outdoor show, I heard Dick Kirby running a call from his booth. My family didn't hunt them, so I didn't know what it was.
Listening to Mr. Kirby run that slate call, him taking time to talk about turkey hunting with me, that lit the fire.
First time I decided to try turkeys, I was only a kid. Went into some woods with my brother. Took an old lynch box out. Made a few yelps and was blown away a turkey started answering me. Great day. One thing pretty amazing in itself. We wore these baseball caps with mesh type stuff hanging down. So that day after the bird stopped gobbling I got up to talk to my brother and formulate a plan. There was this rotten smell. I looked around and right behind my brother was this dead rotten stinking deer. Phew it stunk. I mentioned it to him and once he saw it he said he felt better. He did smell it but thought it was morning breath bouncing off the mesh. Whooof!!!! Very memorable day
My first ever turkey hunt I called a hen up to with a few yards. I was pretty tickled with that. The next morning I called up two jakes and had my first turkey. It was a blast.
The next season opener I killed my first longbeard. Two came in and gobbled together about 15 yards from me. I couldn't take a shot as they were so close together. Finally took the top of one's head off at 10 feet. Whether it was the thrill of all the gobbling, the super close double gobble or the very close encounter and shot...I was most decidedly hooked. I called a buddy and took him the next morning and called one in for him. He got hooked that day. :you_rock:
April 23, 1987. The second day that I ever hunted Turkeys. My dad had shot a nice Tom the day before and on this next day he went with me to try and call a bird in for me. He called up three jakes right after first light and I picked out the biggest bird and took him. My dad was so happy and I was equally as stoked. It was one of the few times up until then at that point in my life where my dad had told me he was proud of me. I have been addicted ever since.
Duck hunting buddy of mine warned me not to start. He invited me one day and I went. As we were walking to one gobbling a ways off, one sounded off 150 yards away. We slipped into the swamp and set up. He gobbled a few times, buddy yelped once. Hen behind us started calling. Heard the birds feet hit the ground and he came straight in. Killed him at 26 steps with high brass #5 and a mod choke in my 870. The pictures we have from that day it looked like it was still dark in that swamp. He warned me it does not happen like that all the time, but I was hooked. Finally called my own in a year later in the same stretch of river bottom. I did so many things wrong the first few years, but it was such a blast matching wits and figuring out my mistakes.
i don't remember any specific hunt, but more vague memories.
i loved the experience of waking up super early and enjoying a time of day i'd never known before. it made me feel "grown up". the drive with my dad. trying to sneak in on a roosted bird. the woods coming alive in april. i remember pastured woodlands and hills so steep i didn't think i could climb them. but i was always right there behind dad.
i did have trouble staying awake and my first bird came after dad elbowed me awake.
as high school sports took over my life we didn't get to hunt as much. then one day in my early 20s we had one of those perfect mornings and i've been obsessed ever since.
and the amount of great hunts we've had since then are a blessing. i've introduced my dad to public land hunting recently and it's like i get to teach him now. love every second of it
i'm forever grateful for his guidance and selflessness. it's what drives me to hunt with my nephews now.
1997... stepped through the gate at my uncles farm, walked down the lane as it was cresting daylight... we owl hooted (saw it on a Primos video) and nothing! Walked a little more than 50 yards further, my buddy stops me and says "do it again!". I cranked another one out and this time the woods lit up. Late 90's heyday in MO. My friend took off at a dead run down the lane back to the truck, I followed him, not sure what we were running from. We got to the truck and he said there were 10 different gobblers firing off on that ridge. It was a week before season and that sound will live with me forever. The following week season opened and we had a chance to double up except he got trigger happy and shot before I could see my bird.
Never hunted with him again... been turkey hunting ever since that day!
About 30 years ago. No mentor, not internet forums, just read a couple of magazine articles.
5th day if a 5 day hunt I struck a gobbler, but across the river. River was low and I picked my way across and barely made it in my knee high rubber boots.
Set up and it was a classic hunt. I'd call...he'd gobble. Wait a bit and I'd call he'd gobble a bit closer. About 5 gobbles and I see movement in the brush. Seen his head and then he stretched and looked for me at 18 yards. Got him. A jake. That is the moment I became a turkey hunter.
I was so enamored with my gobbler I forgot I didn't have my usual hip boots on and just crossed back over the river, gobbler over my shoulder, without looking too much. Had some pretty :toothy12:
I
Love to hunt Henderson county Illinois. It's a little far for me to go but good hunting ground.
I was about 40 years old and my dad invited me to hunt in Missouri. I had a simple setup with a hen decoy out in the field. I sat down against a fallen tree and I can remember that things became magical as the sky started to lighten and there were turkeys gobbling in every direction. Killed my first gobbler that morning and I was hooked. I still get chills anytime I hear a gobbler.
First time i heard one gobbler and we could start hunting them, at the time it was all a learning curve and another way to put food on the table...
At the age of 7 years old I can recall seeing my first turkey up close, my older brother shot his first ever that morning with my dad, and if it wasn't just the coolest thing I ever saw when they got back to the house. I couldn't hardly wait for the next couple years to pass to be able to do it myself.
The natural beauty of the bird has always amazed me. Finding a wing feather on a stroll through the woods no matter the time of year and picking it up was something I can remember as far back as my memory goes.
April of 1982 for me, I was 21 and knew next to nothing about hunting turkeys, except you had to be still & not call too much, my grand Daddy had told me. He always said the wild turkey was king of the woods and if you could consistently hunt them, it was a major accomplishment.
So, I heard one gobble from the roost the evening before on a piece of property I had rights to hunt. Like a fool, I invited my neighbor along to hunt with me the next morning. There was an old logging road winding through some mature hardwoods with an outcrop of big rocks by a bend in the road, which made an ideal natural spot to set up. I brought my Lynch box call that I'd bought at the flea market & didn't really know how to run right. Camo was a surplus army field jacket and pants with a tiger stripe surplus camo boonie. I'd also bought some of those next to useless mesh gloves that made it hard to hold on to anything & real easy for mosquitoes to bite through. I also got a mesh camo veil with an elastic band for face covering. When I met my neighbor at his house, he was dressed to hunt rabbits in matching brown cotton duck jacket, pants, and a sun bleached Jones style cap. In the dark, he looked more like a lighthouse with that bright cap (I immediately suspected my mistake asking him along).
We hiked back along the logging road through the cutover to the timber, then eased along the road in the dark to the rocks and got set up. So far, so good. It started getting light and the woods were waking up. Later than I expected, A gobble erupted from less than 150 yards down the ridge and I was instantly addicted. My neighbor immediately started loudly whispering "Jim, Jim, Call to him!" while waving his hand (like somehow I couldn't hear him). I put my hand up, palm facing him in a "stop" motion. That didn't do anything but stir up the mosquitoes feasting on my mesh gloved hand. The lighthouse head swiveled my way again, "Call to him!" Remembering something I'd read that said not to call until he was on the ground, I held tight. I put a gloved finger up to my lips in the universal "SHHHHH" gesture towards my noisy, glowing neighbor, who kept on pleading for me to call. The gobbler kept hammering from his roost, and finally flew down. It was quiet for a bit, then a gobble came from down the logging road in front of us, out of sight. I scratched out a pitiful squeaky yelp on that Lynch and the gobbler fired back again & again. My heart was in my throat. "Call to him!" came from the rocks to my right.
I saw a big, black blob drifting towards us down the logging road. The gobbler hit a shaft of sunlight where his fan illuminated and the colors on his head brightened to an electric blue, white, and red. Holy Crap, this was gonna happen! I slowly eased the safety off my Ithaca 37 R and looked down the rib to get both beads lined up. There was a mosquito between the veil and my cheek, and I tried to blink it away. My neighbor was behind big enough rocks that he hadn't seen the turkey show coming down the road and wasn't able to lay eyes on the bird yet. The bird gobbled again, obviously closer. He was almost about in range. My neighbor couldn't stand it, he scooted forward, craned his neck where he could see around the rock, and busted the gobbler with his lighthouse cap. PUTT--PUTT!!!, That turkey sprinted off faster than I realized anything could move through the woods. I felt a tidal wave of disappointment rush through me. "Call him back!!" my neighbor commanded.... It was the last time we ever hunted together. Since then, turkeys have had me where they wanted me and they squeeze a little tighter every year.
It took me a few years after that to kill my first gobbler, even though I called in several birds for others to kill on their property. After that first encounter, I studied and learned everything about turkey that I could, including who NOT to hunt with.
Jim
It was about 35 years ago when I went Fall turkey hunting with my dad and uncles. We were in the mountains and it was in the afternoon. I knew nothing about turkey hunting as I was 12 years old but heard a shot up on the ridge close by. Minutes later I hear what sounded like a dog barking. Frustrated as it was getting closer I laid eyes on a big long beard working his way down the hill. Turned out he was yelping and it was those course yelps that sounded like a dog. Little did I know when I shot at him I had 2 hens within 10 yards of me. Those hens bust in the air and flew right over my head. I had a Stevens Double Barrel 12 at the time and still had a second shell. I missed that gobbler on the first shot but was so mesmerized at the flight of those hens I couldn't move. Two years later I would kill my first turkey, a fall hen. I've been obsessed ever since.
Spring of 1979 on a beautiful ridge top in east feleciana La .
I've been goofy for a gobbling turkey every since !
1983, first time I heard a gobbler
Im 57 and hunted deer most of my adult life. Never even gave turkeys a thought. In 2009 one of my friends got me interested with some of his stories and I thought id give it a try. I went Walmart and picked up a Primos Box cutter for 19 bucks . Didnt know how to run it of course but that was all i had. We went to a spot I had seen turkeys at during deer season and he helped me make a blind out of foliage . This was my spot for that whole season. Maybe a week into it , I got set up and a bird hammered right at daybreak above me . I started banging on that Boxcutter and here he came. Ill never forget seeing him almost on a run down that mountain straight for me . So I just started making the worst sounds you could ever hear . Well of course he threw on the brakes and at 60 yards out , turned around and went back the other way. Like a fool I kept right one hitting that call as he was disappearing. That day still haunts me. I was hooked right then and there. I learned my very first lesson that morning. It took all season and I made every mistake you could make untill the very last morning of that season when I used a Ben Lee super hen to call one in. I still have that fan and the shell hull on my wall. Ive almost quit deer hunting but I hit the turkey woods as hard as I can all season . Crying when its over and longing for the next spring.
My father-in-law got me into hunting in 1982. Started out grouse hunting with an 870 20 gauge. One day, I saw a group of turkeys. I said to my father-in-law I would like to try hunting Turkey. He laughed and said your wasting your time. Nobody can call in and kill a Turkey. They are like ghosts. I decided to give it a try. Bought a Quaker Boy Old Boss hen mouth call and a Lynch box and practiced everyday. Read some magazines, bought some Tiger stripe camo and in 1983, went out for the PA opening day. Walked in in the dark to a spot I scouted that looked good, and set up. Just before daybreak, I heard a distant gobble! Wow. I stated calling. After a few minutes, he answered. So as an armature, I called back, he answered. I called and called, he answered, coming closer each time. The last gobble was loud, then silence. I kept calling, nothing. Where is he? Nothing. 5 minutes past, I decided to look behind me. I heard alarm putts (did not know what they were) and spotted the Tom run off. He was about 70 yards behind me. How did he get there without seeing me? Well, I figure I'll call him back. I sat for another hour, nothing. The drive home was frustrating, why did he not come in front of me? He was interested, gobbled every time I called? I only hunted weekends, so I had all week to study why he eluded me. I told my father-in-law what happened, he chuckled and said "see, they tough, no one gets them birds". The rest of the week, I read whatever info on birds I could find. The story in a magazine that changed the game for me said the gobblers are not supposed to go to the hen, hunters are trying to reverse nature by calling the Tom in. Over-calling will put him on guard, he will wait for the hen to appear. Yes, he will close the distance, but stay in his comfort zone, far enough away from the call. The following Saturday, I went in earlier, walked closer in to where I thought he was roosting. Just before day break, boom, gobble. I yelped once, he triple gobbled. I put gun up on knee, no more calling. After about 15 minutes, out in front of me, here he comes. Strutting, but no gobbling. 60, 50, 40, 30 bang. He flopped. I could not believe it. He was a 22 pound Tom, 10 inch beard, one inch spurs. My first and most memorable Tom! The long walk out of the woods was surreal with him over my shoulder...I was hooked
The moment I was hooked was when I learned you didn't hunt turkeys like deer. I'm pretty much self taught and when I learned to communicate with turkeys my whole world changed.
Not positive but it was around 1990, and after the first gobble I was all in.
And one other thing that stands out was creeping in on a gobbling turkey I ran into 2 jakes that were still on the limb, they starting putting and walking up and down a large oak limb, they looked like dinosaurs up there!
May 3rd 2001, first day I ever hunted turkeys. Bird gobbled at the farmer starting his tractor. He flew down and proceeded to gobble and circle me for 2 hours. Finally got a good head shot and shot him. Biggest jake I ever saw, 18.5 pounds. Biggest adrenaline rush I ever had in the woods. Gets better every time. I will probably die in the woods listening to turkeys gobbling. Perfect ending to my story ????
New Mexico initiated its first spring season somewhere around 1965 or thereabouts. I was in my early teens at the time, and the nearest turkey hunting opportunity was about an hour's drive away, so my early-years experiences with spring gobbler hunting were extremely limited. In addition, it was just a novelty hunt initially with a very short season. All in all, in those first few years I hunted, there was little to no chance "the bug" could bite me.
Although I killed my first gobbler in 1969 in what can only be legitimately described as a "drive-by" incident, that "taste" of spring gobbler hunting stirred me to get more serious about the prospects of continuing the pursuit. In addition, about that time, spring hunting was becoming popular enough that regular articles were occurring in the three major outdoor magazines available during that era,...Outdoor Life, Sports Afield, and Field & Stream.
My early experiences, although failures, peeked my interest in spring hunting enough that I started reading every article that came out about it. I was particularly intrigued by the idea that, if done properly, the spring pursuit involved locating gobbling tom turkeys and somehow persuading them to come to a turkey call. Each new spring, I would head to the woods armed with whatever new information I had gleaned from those articles and from my own failed attempts.
Still, with our short seasons, limited access to authentic-sounding turkey calling instruments, and my even-more-limited experience and knowledge about what the heck I was doing, I continued to end up with an unfilled tag when each subsequent season ended. Even so, I was gradually putting the pieces of the puzzle together. I had figured out that turkeys could be located by being in the woods at the first (and last) hints of daylight by listening for gobbling. I also had, by then, a rudimentary understanding of how to make realistic turkey sounds, and a gradually-increasing knowledge of when to make them and what to say.
Even with my lack of success, I had developed a determination to figure it out. That "figuring it out" came on the very last day of our spring season in 1975 when I had a gobbler answer my calling mid-morning from a high ridge several miles into the Gila Wilderness in southern NM. Watching that gobbler come strutting and gobbling down that pine-studded ridge was the final barb needed to hook me. The passion for those moments has never faded over the last half-century.
I'm not sure I could make it back to that spot in the wilderness at this stage of the game, but if I was to somehow hear another gobbler from that spot, I would surely try!
Was in the 90's and I deer hunted long as I can remember, and I heard gobbles all the time sitting in tree stands, and never knew what it was...until one day I saw a TV show of a guy turkey hunting and a tom gobbling....remember hearing that sound while deer hunting I said. Had never seen a turkey in the wild, but they opened the season in my county in mid 90's and I bought me a 1300 Winchester pump from a guy for $125, a ole Lynch world champion box call,turkey shells, a turkey choke ....was going to give it a try. My wife told me a guy she worked with said I would turkey hunt a long time before I would kill a turkey. I remember saying if they can't smell like a deer I would kill him. Little did I know that would be true my first hunt. I had seen a video on how to do a fly down cackle....boy, I was ready. Went out before light that first day and got down close to this creek where had heard on the evening before fly up. Well, standing there in the dark waiting, he gobbled on the limb down below me and few minutes I did the fly down cackle...just like the video. Boom, he gobbled right back. I laid down in this ditch because no tree to back up to....had my decoy out just a few feet from me. He came gobbling in from that roost, spitting and druming, and had no idea what that was, but in few minutes there he was just few feet from my decoy....almost took his head off. A 22 lb boy, dragging a rope....been hooked ever since.
Spring of 1979. Woke up to a gobble in my tent at 7:00 am and thought
that was the coolest thing I'd ever heard. Asked the guys I was camping with if that was a turkey, and they said yes. I was instantly hooked.
Been hunting them ever since. Killed my first one 3 years later at 25 yards
with a Remington 1100 with a 28" fixed modified choke barrel, and
a Remington Express load of 1 1/4oz of #5's. Good times on public land.
As many have stated, the first time I heard a gobble I was hooked. X 10 the first time I had a bird hammering back at my calling. I unfortunately can't remember that exact date or year :)
April 24, 1983
Pawnee County, OK Arkansas River bottom
My first turkey season
Called in a 2 year old with Lynch box call, made three yelps, sat it down beside me, watched the bird walk under the fence from the neighbors property and stop about 25 feet from me. I was amazed how he could pinpoint that small amount of calling I did and just walk right up to me. Raised my gun up off my lap as he slowly walked off and his head disappeared behind a tree.
I probably wasn't but about 12 or so. My dad joined a hunting club just because of me. He didn't really hunt much at all(lots of backstory, but that's the important part). I was lucky enough to go to one of the first JAKES camps in Edgewood. Met some legends. Watched I don't know how many Truth videos. My first turkey hunt I'll never forget.
I had been practicing a ton with my calls. Had a Limbhanger mouth call, a box call from my JAKES camp(pretty sure it was an HS Strut that had the plastic lid lock deal and was camo), and I think that was it. Dad had an SKB 12ga semi he won at a DU banquet I was toting with a factory full and some 2 3/4" Remington steel #4s.
That bird must have gobbled 200 times that morning. And he answered me enough that I remember it. He never showed up, and I've been trying to figure them out since.
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I didn't start hunting turkey until late in life as we had no turkeys where I grew up in northeastern NC until the 1990s. The first turkeys I remember seeing and hearing was around 1996-1997. I raised a bunch of yard birds (chickens, peacocks, guineas, ducks, turkeys) back then and I would hear wild gobblers reacting to my domestic turkeys. I also raised some eastern wild turkey poults along with some domestics that were the same age. The first spring the hen easterns left the house as the call of the wild was stronger than than what I had to offer.
In 1998 I moved to Georgia and folks were turkey hunting down there. I didn't know anything about it but the folks I knew that turkey hunted sure played it up to be something special. I hunted deer, hogs, ducks and geese in Georgia but never went turkey hunting.
I moved back home after 16 years and turkey hunting had caught on here and there was/is a healthy turkey population here now. My 12 year old son started asking to go turkey hunting so I asked a friend and long time turkey hunter to take us. I killed my first turkey that year but my son missed twice. The next year we were planning on going turkey hunting more but my son tore his ACL playing JV football in the spring and we missed the first couple of weeks of turkey season. One day my son was bored and really couldn't do much in his leg brace, but he wanted to go turkey hunting. I had heard folks talk about seeing a big turkey on a farm I could hunt so we packed up and went. My son was still in crutches but we managed to pick a spot and set up where I thought would be a good spot. I called a little bit and we had decoys out, and after 15 minutes the big Tom and a Jake showed up and my son killed his first turkey which was the big Tom. Some of my happiest moments are when my son was successful hunting and this was one of the most enjoyable of those moments. That was what hooked me.
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Saw my first gobbler in the late 60s on our farm. I had become a avid Ruffed Grouse hunter and kept seeing them grouse hunting. Winter of 1970-71 I decided to try and hunt them. Our tags were on a lottery and our season was 3 days long. I was drawn and allowed to take a buddy. We set up at the end of the field I saw my first bird in at daylight and waited. Then he gobbled. I had talked to an old guy that had hunted turkey in Va. and he gave me a Rhodes snuff box call ( https://www.amazon.com/Vintage-Rhodes-Wooden-Turkey-Original/dp/B008ZFQG0K ). I made some horrible sounds and the gobbler came in silent, but neither of us shot him because the pamphlet from the state said it had to have a beard, and all we could see was head. That was enough.
Yeah, many years ago I let someone talk me out of that box call for like $10.00. Kids aren't the smartest cookies.
Like many have said when i heard my first gobble 1985
Awesome responses. Pretty thankful that bird gobbled in my face (in December, 0 degrees nonetheless) at 24. Almost all of my time is fishing for striped bass in the salt but I'd probably choose turkey hunting if I had to at this point. Can't wait for the season
I am a little different that everyone else. While I have turkey hunted since I was very young and killed my first bird at 13, it really didn't hit me super hard until I was probably 17. Being from SE Arkansas, duck hunting is what we are bred to do....but duck hunting is now a distant second to me now. I had a few birds under my belt at the time. Had a good friend who wanted to go, so I went with him on our opening weekend at his camp that had a ton of birds. We struck out off the roost, but I was able to call him up his first bird.
Now we both had guns, but he was in the position for the kill. It was that day watching it all go down that it hit me like a ton of bricks. To this day I still reflect on that hunt as the day my focus shifted.