I started turkey hunting in 1980. Didn't know squat about it, and I spent my first season educating birds without even realizing it. Looking back on it, they learned their lessons a lot faster than I did. Towards the end of that first season, I was a very humble turkey hunter with a newfound respect for the wild turkey.
After almost an entire season of nothing but mistakes on my part, I snuck in one morning and sat down on a ridge against a big maple. There'd been gobbler roosting on the side hill below me from time to time during the season and I hoped he'd be there now.
I'd been trying to call him from the hardwoods at the bottom of the hill, but for some reason he always seemed to move to the top of the hill after he flew down and gobble his head off. I'm not sure I even realized it at the time, but I was starting to learn. On this particular morning he wasn't there. If he was, he wasn't gobbling, and nobody else was either.
I didn't know what else to do, so I decided to stay put and call once in a while. After an hour or so, I could hear what I thought was several deer coming from behind me and to my right. It wasn't far off and getting closer. I was getting bored with the lack of gobbling, and the thought of seeing the deer kind of perked me up.
Within a minute or two, I decided that they were going to come past me on my right. I'm right handed and my gun was in my lap pointing to my left.
I didn't dare turn my head and as the deer slowly came into my field of view at about 20 yards, I was surprised to see something black. Then it dawned on me what I was seeing. :drool: Four jakes walked out in front of me and stopped at 15-20 yards.
I picked out the one that looked a little bigger than the others, brought the gun up and put the bead on his neck, just under his head. When the gun went off, three birds flew away and one was left flopping on the ground.
It probably took me all of 3/10ths of a second to get to the bird and make sure he wasn't going anywhere. ;D
I couldn't believe it. After all the time, effort and aggravation, I finally had the object of my dreams on the ground in front of me. I think that turkey was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.
I spent the next half hour admiring him, then slung him over my shoulder and walked out with a big smile on my face.
So, tell us about your first bird.
Bob
My first bird, I was still too young to hunt on my own. Turkeys were still pretty scarce in that area, so we spent many days without even hearing a bird. I missed my opportunity on a bird earlier that year paying too much attention to what I was told. My father reminded me not to move my gun when I saw a bird, because he would eventually walk in front. Well, I had a gobbler pop up over a ridge right in front of me. He couldn't have been 2 feet to the left of where my gun was pointing and I didn't move. Of course, I was pointing right, and he went left... Late in the season, my father asked if I wanted to go hunting or walleye fishing. I said I didn't care (really wanting to go fishing) but he chose to try for a bird.
I don't remember where we started that day, but I know we didn't hear anything. We moved to a new spot and hunted out most of it. We worked a bird for a bit but he shut down on us so we headed out to the truck. We decided we'd stop along the road on the way out and crow call and we got a response way too close to the truck. I remember my father putting the truck in neutral and letting it coast down the hill to try and not spook the bird, which we of course did. But when we stopped, a bird across the road from the last one answered and we went off after him. I remember setting up on a small ridge facing the gobbling, my father behind me to the back of the same tree. I saw the bird moving in through the thick brush, he popped in, still mostly in the brush. In an adrenaline fed yelling whisper I asked if I could shoot, but my father couldn't see to tell me. Luckily he stepped out right after that and I had my first bird, a jake.
After we had him tagged, my dad went in the direction of the bird next to the road while I stayed in the truck. Not long after, I heard him shoot, so I drove the truck up to meet him (too young to drive, so I'm surprised I didn't get in a lot of trouble for that one), and I get to see him carrying a longbeard out of the woods.
Mine was in the early 90's – like you I had no one to teach and learned the hard way. The details are starting to get fuzzy, but from what I do remember.....
I heard a bird gobble the afternoon before while unloading my shotgun. It was in an area I was very familiar with and despite being a novice turkey hunter I knew just about where he was sitting. The next morning was cool as I walked down a finger ridge into an open hardwood bottom. The bird was on a creek about 100 yards from the tip of the finger I was walking down. I elected to stay about 30-50 yards up the finger to give myself the tactical advantage of the high ground. Estimated distance from me to the bird was 150 yards or so. After erecting my camo blanket around on a few sticks, I sat down just as daylight was starting to break. Mind you this was a clean hardwood bottom with very little undergrowth, visibility was excellent. Pulled out my little slate and yelped, a gobble followed immediately, so I repeated the process again and again till he stopped answering me. If he flew down, I never heard it, never saw it, and never had a clue as to what was going on other than he wasn't gobbling. After about 15 minutes of nothing, I saw a large, round, dark object moving around below me 25 yards or so to my right. "Holy **** it's a turkey" I thought and in range! I raise my gun swiveled right and smoked him. How that bird got to me without me seeing or hearing him is beyond reason, I think the bird I started hunting never flew down and the one I killed was another tom in the area.
Mine was April 12, 1975. I was on an afternoon hunt on a place that had a lot of Black Angus cows. I would periodically make what I thought might be turkey sounds on a Morgan Caller given to me by a friend. A few cows passed by and I saw what I thought was a bright red afterbirth on the rear of a cow. That soon turned into a wild turkey gobbler with a 9 and one-half inch beard. I promptly dispatched him, but at that point my luck changed. I went back to the tree and could not find my caller.
I drove to Baton Rouge to try to buy another but all of the stores were sold out. As I had to come close to Kenny Morgan's house in Jackson, LA on my way back, I decided to see if I could find him. The gobbler was not the best thing to happen to me that day. Kenny and I struck up a lifelong friendship and I cherish my time at his feet as much as anything else in my life. What a turkey hunter.
Heres a good one.
It was 2005 I was a junior in high school. First time hunting by myself. I think I went maybe two times before then with friends/family.
I was using a MAD Calls Hatchet, still have it lol and think it sounds terrible. Called up 1 hen and 3 jakes. They walked by me at 5 yards I was tucked back tight into a bush. They were to my left and I was pointing right, just watched them walk by. Finally one walked out into my shoot lane at 25 yards and I pulled the trigger, at least I thought I did, and nothing happened. Ejected that shell and tried another, felt the trigger move but nothing happened. At this point I'm wondering what the hell caused two shells to not fire, eject the second shell and at this time I realize it was the hen that walked out not the gobblers. I was shaking so bad and so stinking nervous lol. After I ejected the second shell they all walked out of sight. At this point I pick the hatchet call back up and let out a few calls. They gobble and walk back into sight. Pull the trigger again and thankfully this time it went off. Smoked by first bird a jake. I was so damn happy!!! After looking at the shells I didn't pull the trigger far enough for it to fire. I felt a little trigger creep and assumed the shells were bad lol.
Great stories everybody, thank you. :icon_thumright:
Please keep 'em coming.
Bob
i remember my first tom like it was yesterday. when i was 9 i decided i wanted to learn to hunt turkeys but like some of you i had no one to teach me. i knew i would have to teach my self and being season had closed for the year i had all winter to learn. i bought some calls with the money i got for christmas. i practiced every day when i got home from school.after a winter of driving my folks crazy with my calling the spring season finally came around and i was ready. so i spent the week before opener watching turkeys to see where they went in the day where they were roosting and just trying to listen to them.fast forward to the opening morning i had been up since 2 am and i was ready to go when 4 am came i threw on my camo grabbed my 20 870,shells,and calls and i was off. i get to the tree where the birds are roosted and the sounds those birds were making was some of the coolest sounds i ever heard. i mimicked the calls of the hens the best i could and a tom hammered off.i talked with that tom till they finally flew down. that tom came in like he was on a string and i MISSED i dont know how but i did needless to say that ruined that trip.i felt TERRIBLE i had never been so disappointed in my life.i tried for the majority of the season with only a few jakes and some hens coming i let the jakes walk though for a kid that was hard but dad taught me that good things come to those who wait.now fast forward to the last day of the season i had turned 10 a week before.i had all but gave up that season but for some reason i felt i had to get in the woods.i didnt get in the woods like i wanted to that morning so i was already sure i wouldnt see or hear anything but at least i was in the woods.i had been trying to strike a bird all morning and it was pushing 1 pm i was just about ready to go home when a thundering gobble came to my yelping and it was close. i went to the first tree and set up that tom gobbled 2 more times and went quiet. after about 20 minutes i thought he had left when i caught some movement out of the corner of my left eye.it then dawned on me it was the tom and he was a big one.i was as still as i had ever been before in my life. as he pasted me at maybe 10 ft. he came out in front of me at about 15 yds and started strutting i called to him and when he gobbled i let those 5s fly he hit the dirt and didnt even attempt to flop. i was beyond myself he was bigger than i had ever thought he had 1.25'' spurs and a 11'' inch beard. the look on my dad face was priceless. i have been hooked ever since and if god lets me ill be out there this year for my 13th season.id love to get dad involved but he wont go
I started a little different from most in that I called up gobblers for others to shoot before I ever killed my first. They had rights to hunt on quality land, but lacked calling skills. I could call well enough, but didn't have such great places to go.
My first was on some private land that held birds some of the time, but not always. They'd often roost on neighboring property and work their way across the land I could hunt. I was set up near a ridge top near where a pine thicket transitioned into tall pines and mixed understory. I heard a gobbler fire up just past dawn less than 300 yards away on the neighboring land. I knew to keep any calling quiet until he was on the ground. Once he was on the ground, I yelped a few times on my Lynch box. It sounded kind of shaky, though he fired right back. The next time he gobbled, he was closer, but still on the neighboring land. I called on my slate and got no answer. It seemed liken an hour before I saw or heard anything, though it was probably more like 15 minutes. I remember seeing the tip of his fan pop up over some broom straw by the short pines. I also remember how blue his head looked. When he crossed the edge of the thicket and went out of sight, I pulled the hammer back on my old single shot and got the gun ready. He almost ran right to me and I dropped the hammer at 17 yards. He weighed 20 pounds with a 9.5 inch beard and 7/8 inch spurs. It was a long time ago. but I remember it like it was last week.
Jim
I didn't catch the turkey fever until I was in my late 20's. A friend of mine was hooked badly and would constantly tell me how awesome it was. He came to visit one spring when I lived in South Carolina. We spent a couple of days chasing some pressured birds. We found a spot a couple miles from the parking lot where some birds were roosting. Thinking this may be a good spot to work a bird we headed there one morning. As luck would have it, another Hunter was headed to the same general area. After talking it over with him, we had a plan that would keep us all in good areas but give each other some space. Shortly after we left the other Hunter the sun was starting to rise and a crow flew overhead and with his squawk a gobbler blew up, not fifty yards from us. We quickly set up and as daybreak came, my buddy let out a couple soft purrs. The gobbler responded, pitched down and crested the hill in front of me. Once he hit the stump I'd identified as my range marker the 12 gauge rang out and two flops later my first bird was down. I've been hooked ever since and while I'm far from having it all figured out I've spent the last decade plus being an ambassador and taking out new hunters every chance I get. There's no greater satisfaction than helping someone shoot their first bird. Pay it forward.
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I started turkey hunting about 2000. We have few turkeys around here and I didn't even know anyone who had hunted turkeys.
On my first morning, I had a hen come within five yards after using my box call. I was thrilled.
She left and I figured it was over and went home, only to return the next morning. I set up where I found lots of tracks and called too long and too loud. Two jakes came in quiet and I shot the biggest one. I was forever hooked!
My first longbeard was on the next hunt (a year later with our one bird limit), and THAT was the thing turkey videos try to be. TONS of gobbling, birds racing to be the first to me, two came in side by side and gobbled in my face at 15 yards. They shoved my decoy over and finally separated by a step and I shot my first longbeard at 5 steps.
I was so thrilled I called a buddy and ordered him to go with me the next morning. ;D The same thing happened again. He is now a turkey hunting addict like me.
When I first began turkey hunting, my first nine trips to the woods resulted in six birds called to the gun. I thought I had it down! Little did I know. :laugh:
Killed my first turkey in 1965. It was a fall bird. Back then we went hunting. If you saw a deer your were deer hunting, saw a hog you were hog hunting etc. My first kill was an ambush while sitting with my Dad. Lot's of turkeys back then in Central and South Florida. So we were in an Oak Hammock and three hens more or less took the wrong route and one of them wound up dead. Killed several more before ever killing a longbeard.
Mt first longbeard was in 1968. Again while hunting with my Dad. This was a spring hunt and he called up the bird and let me shoot it. I can't believe the bird couldn't hear me breathing, I'm surprised I lived through that. Heart about to bust out of my chest, breathing hard and scared to move for twenty minutes. Then after the shot it got worse. I was shaking, and couldn't hardly talk with squeaking. I still run through that same gamut of emotions to this day, except for the squeaky voice.
My first longbeard I called up and killed by myself was 1969. Even though my Dad wasn't to far away I was still by myself and in charge. Had no idea really what I was doing except rubbing that old PS Olt call and a piece of wood making noises. The bird never gobbled but I kept hearing what sounded like a motor a long ways off that would never get out of first gear. Vaaaroooooom, Vaaaroooom! I could hear Airboats in the distance but I could still hear this motor. I turned my head to my left, and I mean turned not eased. Then at what I though was a hundred yards back then "probably 20 in reality" I see this this thing that looked like a black Volkswagen with it's doors open and the back hood up. Took a second to realize it was a turkey. My next action wasn't an ease into action either. I grabbed my 16 ga. auto and threw up the gun and let two shots go boom boom, the bird was flopping so another boom. Out of shells and the bird still flopping so I ran to it, grabbed it and held on until I was pretty sure it was dead. By then my Dad was there and he assured me I could let go. Seeing how he had his gun I felt if it did get back up he could shoot it. That was the last day I ever saw that old PS Olt call. I figure what's left of it is still right there until that big live oak, if it's even still there. I can remember those hunts like they were yesterday, maybe even remember than better now than I could a year after they happened.
My first 1965
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My First Longbeard 1968
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And me returning the favor forty years later
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In 1983 a girl I was dating had family land that supposedly held turkeys and her Dad told me to go have at it.
Walked in on a high mountain about 10 o'clock in the morning. Made a few yelps but didn't hear anything.
I decided to move on up a few yards to where I could see a little better, but still couldn't see over this little rise. I made a few soft calls...nothing. Stepped it up to some more aggressive cutting...nothing. Waited about 2 minutes and turned around to walk off and there, coming over that rise was a silent, strutting gobbler. We both saw each other at the same time and scared the poo out of each other. He left quickly.
Not knowing any better, I went back to the same exact spot the next day, at the exact same time.
Sat down against a big oak tree, made the same exact series of cutting. He showed up in the same spot as the day before, never made a peep, shot him in the face at 20 yds. Simple as that, thought I was a stud walking off that mountain...been getting my arse whooped by toms on a regular basis ever since then !
It took me many years to finally get a turkey in my gun sights. At the age of 6 I was reading about them in magazines and talking to anyone who would listen about them. I finally got an hs single reed diaphram and a lohman slate. I think it was a lohman anyways. It had areas cut out of the top for the striker. A straight line for purring and an oval for yelps. I practiced nonstop and managed to add an old boss hen diaphram and a lohman scratch box to my collection. Still no turkey hunting. At the age of 8 I was calling our pen raised turkeys all over the yard. I had killed some squirrels and my grandad gave me a new englander single shot 20 gauge for christmas. That spring I was of to the woods on my own. I hunted for 4 years, going out before school and weekends. I never heard a gobble other than when I got to close to the house and our pen turkeys heard me. I learned one of the most important thing though. Patience and maintaining a good attitude no matter what. Then some not so good times in life came and we had to move. I didn't get to keep my shotgun either. Finally after graduating high school i managed to get a full time job. Guess what the first gun I bought for myself was? A mossberg 835. By 2003 I had my gun, a stardot choke tube, a primos power crystal and an hs split v lll diaphram call. I had a new cabelas vest in advantage timber and I was ready. I had permission to hunt a small farm of about 75 acres. I was full of anticipation as I sat on the highest wooded part of the farm and waited for daylight. As the sun cracked over the horizon I heard... nothing. I waited until full light and started circling the property, calling every couple hundred yards and waiting. Finally after nearly getting back to where I started I heard some very faint gobbles in response to my yelps. There was nothing I could do but call loudly and hope they decided to come since they were waaay off on property I didn't have permission to hunt. Easing back off the fence about 50 yards I set up near the lip of a small hill. I knew that I should set up so I could kill him as soon as he came in view. I would call and they would gobble and that's how it went for about an hour. Eventually they went quiet and I got comfortable and decided to wait it out and see if they would break. I would call softly and purr a little with no response. Finally after about an hour I heard a few coarse clucks under the lip of the hill. I knew it! That old bugger was being cautious and sneaking in. I got the gun ready and clucked back. I could hear it walking in the leaves and tracked it with my gun barrel. Finally three red heads popped up right over my gun sights. I knew they were Tom's from their heads and as soon as one separated a little I let him have it. At fifteen yards there were two heads left briefly in view before they decided they had better places to be. I rushed over the hill to wrap my hands around the kicking legs of a 14 lb jake! I thought I had fooled an old cautious Tom but what I had really done was wack a youngster that had snuck in trying to get some action without getting his butt kicked. I woulda shot him regardless of the fact he was a jake. He was my first and I was proud of him. I haven't stopped since. Me and that mossberg are still Makin memories.
I probably don't remember the killing of my first turkey like most of ya'll and it is not what got me into turkey hunting at all.
I grew up in a deer hunting family, and no one hunted turkeys at all. It wasn't until high school that a friend who turkey hunted some invited me to go on some private land they had. He called in a nice bird right at daylight and I shot it...it happened fast and I cant even remember him gobbling, it honestly didn't excite me a bit and I just couldn't see all the fuss in it.
Well a couple years later I had been seeing some turkeys on a piece of land that I was deer hunting. I was up for a challenge and figured I would give it a try alone. I knew nothing...so I just did like they do on TV, I set up a few decoys set back and started yelping. Well to my surprise no gobblers came running in !!! and an hour later I had had all I wanted. I packed my stuff and started to the truck. On the way out I stopped at the edge of the property and gave one last loud yelp and that's when it happened....a bird gobbled at me !!!! I called again and he responded, again and again this went on until he had made his way across a 300 yard pasture to the property line and hung up at the fence (not my side of coarse) strutting and gobbling. I sat there amazed at the beauty of this bird and the fact that I had called him in.
Now I didnt kill that bird but that first gobble is what hooked me, not my actual first turkey. Having him respond to my calling and come in the way he did is was what opened my eyes to the sport of turkey hunting.
I kept at it that season, determined and steadfast. Called in several more birds that didn't work out, and ended up shooting a Jake on the last day. My addiction has done nothing but get worse since. And it all started with that first gobble.
It started for me in the mid 90's as an 19 year old Hunter. I hadn't really explored the Spring hunting at this point however was always intrigued by how elusive the turkey was when hunting deer in Western Maryland. I put a lot of emphasis into scouting that fall with finding little sign the area we hunted. Opening day for fall came with me busting a flock as I walked out for lunch that day and missing a golden opportunity. I followed up with a hunt on Tuesday that brought me to a large hollow two hens were scratching. Two shots from my 22 and I harvested my first turkey. Not your typical hunt but it was the beginning of an obsession of not only fall but many spring hunts to follow. When they say there's much more to the hunt than the harvest it's so true. The smell of those fall woods and colors of those trees helps me remember that day time and time again.
Well, I got to start where everything started.
I had been an avid fisherman since 2003 at the age of 11, and loved the outdoors as long as I can remember. Always had a thought in the back of my head about hunting, but never had any interest.
It was Thanksgiving Day of 2009... I was 17. That afternoon, a whole flock of turkeys passed through our backyard. They didn't usually come through there but once in a while. I ran outside and chased them off, watching them run and fly into the trees. It was at that time that I started thinking about how I could trap or kill one and then cook and eat it. The thought of outsmarting a wild critter had intrigued me for a while, and this one instance really sparked the idea. Little did I know all the learning I had to do...
Fast forward to the next spring, 2010... I had done a lot of research on hunting, specifically turkeys, and learned how to make a tube call using an empty spice container. I could make basic calls, and had learned a lot of the regulations as well. A friend of mine who I had fished with for years was also into turkey hunting; he let me come out to a farm in Dickson County, TN to try and call in a gobbler.
I used his Remington 870 with Winchester Supreme shells. We sat in a blind and he set out a strutting decoy. Dawn came and he shook the gobble call, and we were answered by birds all around us. A while after daylight, we finally had a bird working up the opposite hillside to the small field on top of the ridge. I saw the head bobbing, but the bird saw the strutter and got shy. We hunted till about 9:30 that morning with no luck.
Deer season came around that year, and I had just discovered some public land. A buddy who was as clueless as myself went with me twice that season... we saw deer the first time, but I had never even pulled the trigger on his iron sight 30-30, so I elected not to shoot the doe I had in the sights.
Spring of 2011 came around, and I found myself back on the same public land, chasing turkeys with my brand new NEF Pardner 12 gauge, and Winchester Supreme shells. A guy I met at Walmart who owns a local call company had given me a tip on a good place to hunt, so I had scouted it a couple weeks before season and then hunted it opening morning.
Opening day found me with hens and jakes within 10 yards, but being a novice, I got busted both times I had a jake in range. I was in the right spot, but the birds taught me that day.
Three hunts later, on April 9, I was on the same area I had been hunting opening day. I had missed a gobbler I saw in a field the previous hunt - he was too far for me to shoot at anyways. This morning, I had no luck in the field where I had seen so many birds on opening day. However, I kept hearing a very faint gobble around midmorning.
Finally I made my way towards a field that was much closer to the parking area. This is where the gobble had come from, and was where I first spotted the bright red head and full tail fan. I snuck my way through hardwoods and cedars to the edge of the field. I found myself a cedar on the edge of the field to sit under, maybe 70 or 80 yards from a group of birds out in the field.
I had remembered reading something about the cluck and purr... so I tried my attempt on a homemade bamboo tube call. One of the hens heard me and didn't like it at all. She came on a dead run towards me, with two jakes on her tail. She stopped at no more than 5 yards from me, looking for the hen that pissed her off. I saw the bright red heads with her, necks stretched out... I raised my gun, squeezed and watched my first turkey drop dead at 6 yards. I won't ever forget that moment.
It ended up being the only turkey I killed that year, but I learned a lot more that season and continue to learn every year. Oh, and there were gobblers in the group when I shot that jake, but I watched them all fly off when I ran out to get my bird.
I started filming more hunts after 2011, but I did manage a quick video after the kill just to document my first turkey... here it is - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=evr8CJEYzhs
Just writing this brings back good memories. I can't wait till the green starts to pop and the longbeards light up the woods with early morning gobbles... it's the best time of year...
I'm glad I started this. I'm enjoying the heck out of your stories. I've been right there with 'ya on each hunt. :popcorn: Thanks for sharing.
Bob
"My" first turkey wasn't even mine... So back in the day a buddy of mine had said that they had seen these turkeys where they deer hunted. We talked about it a bit and wanted to try this turkey hunting thing out so we headed out late that summer on a trip to scout for birds and knock on some doors. Once we got there and as we were scouting the area where they hunted for whitetail we seen all these scrapes in places that didn't make sense, next thing you know we bust up a flock of turkeys! So after talking with the landowner and getting permission to hunt there the for next spring, we did a little research and applied for our permits. Back at home we raised some of those bronze breasted farm birds, I started watching those birds to see how they interacted with each other, our hens could fly into the trees at night but the old tom didn't get off the ground but about 4ft. I actually learned a lot from those birds and they talked profusely, them hens were my teacher on cadence and rhythm, body language and more. From the time they woke up and did the tree talk to when they were talking to the old tom. I spent countless hours watching and learning from those barnyard birds, as we didn't have wild birds where I lived at that time.
We were as green as anyone could be and no one I knew turkey hunted or had ever been, so out to the local sports shop and I bought the "Truth About Turkey Hunting" Vol #1 it was the first year it was out (I have bought every one out since then too, been kind of a tradition. Year #27 is out for 2016). I watched that video like it was the bible and bought myself a slate call... really wished I would have kept that one, also had a mouth call from Primos that came with the tape then I bought a Red Wolfe's Gobble Shaker. I practiced my calling with those hens and the old tom tirelessly, learned everything they were saying and when, made my guesses as to what they meant and learned what each sound was called. I got to see all this day to day what they did at different times and that interaction between those birds. So here comes spring and we have our approvals from the DNR, WI has a lottery system. My buddy bought a H.S. Redi Hen decoy with a moveable head, could just twist it to a different position.
We got up there a day early for a five day hunt to scout and talk with the land owner, she tells us about
them birds and how they come out in the back of the field every morning over there... So we go out and look and see sign, tracks, poop and a wing feather. Yup decision is made lets hunt here, this lead to lesson #1 turkeys do have really good eye sight, spooked a bird that first morning... WI season at that time closed at noon, and the rest of the day was uneventful. Day 2 we setup a little different and we are not having any luck, we see some birds and hear them but just not doing things right yet...Here we are on day number four and we have learned where those birds roosted and we are setup and are in sight of those birds, hens are a talking, toms are gobbling and this to me feels like home. I start with my tree talk, birds fly down and a tom breaks from the flock to my calling, must have been better than 20 birds together out there but this guy was liking my calling. We watched him strut and gobble his way in off the field and down a bit of the old logging road we were set up on, decoy was set a bit past us and as him came my buddy put him down! He was froze, white knuckled and speechless he didn't even get up, I jumped up as soon as I could see that bird go down, ran over and put my foot on him like I had seen and kept yelling to my buddy "Shawn we did it, We did it!"
I never did get a bird that first year, didn't matter we had success and a lot of lessons were learned during those early days. As I told my Dad the story of the hunt and it got him to want to try this turkey hunting. More than anything else my dad raised me on hunting and fishing and "Turkey Hunting" was the one thing I got to teach my dad about...called in his first bird for him too, since then Dad has passed on and I have some great memories and how much this has been a part of my life and still is, it's not about the kill... don't get me wrong still like to pull the trigger but it's about family, friends and those I share the hunt with.
Hoped you enjoyed the read
MK M GOBL
on the 3rd day i ever turkey hunted, i was walking (not knowing any better) thru a cypress swamp....I heard a far off gobble.....I yelped and he answered . every time i yelped, he answers....he came into view at 25yrds, and i shot him......just like on tv or in the magazines..
all that followed were a much different story... :OGani:
:fud: It is somewhat embarrassing for me to tell this now as I've learned alot. One of my friends that I grew up with ran in my house when I was 20 years old and asked, have you ever hunted turkey's? I said no, not knowing why he took me behind my house on my old farm and the field was black with birds and he said you're going to start. That spring on opening day he didn't show till about 9 in the morning so I went on at daylight and spooked everything in the woods by shooting a coyote. When he showed we hadn't sat down 5 minutes and we was carrying two dead birds that he shot. I chased birds by myself all that spring till the second to the last weekend of season when I finally killed my first bird. It was a Jake but I was so proud of it cause I called it in even though I had to unload the gun to kill it because I didn't know anything about gun and choke shell combos back then. I've been hooked ever since even getting my best friend hooked on them too. That Jake my first Tom and his first tom is probably my favorite hunts ever. Especially since the student has got much better than the teacher.
Late 90's, went to a pre-scouted public land area that I was sure was far off the beaten path, down a truck scratching narrow two track to the find 2 trucks in the parking area. I was last in so didn't go deep. Along about the same time, nature called and I had to go. You know what I mean, I had to go! With a quick pit stop along an old fence row I found relief and decided to try a different spot, across the river. With vest on, I drove the 5 minutes.....should have taken more but I was in a hurry! They were already on the ground! Around and through the old iron bridge to my second choice I went, to a little postage stamp size piece of public ground that I now call the Old Man spot because it is so easy access.
When I opened the door of my old Jeep Wagoneer, I heard a loud gobble on the shelf of the ridge below me. Adrenaline hit and I went into stealth mode, seeking the location of the gobbler. I only walked in about 60 yards when I found a nice blow down for cover. He came into view a few minutes later, maybe 50 yards down the hillside on the shelf. He would stop and gobble facing across the river, away from me. I could hear hens or the other hunters I had just left, across the river calling loudly and this gobbler, maybe 300 yards away from them and across a small river was strutting and gobbling his head off and generally heading my way. I just sat there mesmerized with pulse rate off the chart. At about 35 yards I hit him with a load of #5's out of my brand new 835. He flopped and flopped as I watched and eventually flopped his way over the edge of the shelf and started sliding down the steep hillside through rock outcrops and attracted a small group of crows that swooped in and started dive bombing, cawing loudly and generally trying to pick on MY Gobbler! I ran down the hill and collected my bird, a dandy 2 yr old gobbler. Etched in my memory and I was hooked.
I was raised around the swamplands of S.Florida, where the Osceola's where so abundant back then.
I didn't have much money and had an old Harrington and Richardson Long Tom shotgun. You shot it once, go to break the barrel for another round and the forend and barrel would fall off. Hunted with # 4's and couldn't afford fancy hunting cloths either, usually a pair of jeans, tree bark camo tee shirt and tennis shoes. My Dad made me a turkey call from a turkey wing bone and taught me how to call on it ...man...I was ready!
I walked from swamp to swamp yelping with my wing bone and then ...gobble, gobble, just on the other side of this coco plum bush, out he struts and BOOM !
Shot my first long beard no further than 10 yrds away. After I shot, I picked up my shotgun parts, barrel and forend , grabbed my gobbler and ran home to show Dad.
Then this Alabama turkey killer named, Ben Rogers Lee, came out with these mouth calls , DANG... this is awesome!
Even though back then, I didn't have much money to buy all these great things I have today...I wouldn't trade those days for nothing.
I can remember my first gobbler very well. I had killed several turkeys as a boy while I was squirrel hunting or deer hunting. Back in those days this was not considered a big deal or necessarily a bad thing. Sometime in the early 80's I made a decision to be a sho nuff, bona fide spring turkey hunter. I was already an accomplished hunter, so the step to turkey hunting was not that high for me. I bought a Preston Pittman single reed mouth call and after a couple of days of effort I began to sound pretty good. I then bought Primos True Double and liked it a lot better. The only shotgun I owned at the time was a Smith & Wesson 12 gauge pump with a 28 inch modified barrel. I applied a roll of vinyl camo tape and I thought it looked so cool! My brother gave me a box of 3 inch #4 lead Winchester shells that he used to duck hunt with. This set up sounds ineffective compared to what most avid turkey hunters use now days--but I'll tell you this---for the next 5 years, the S&W with #4 3 inch duck shells was responsible for the demise of many a gobbler. I took to turkey hunting almost immediately—almost like I was born to do it----maybe I was.
When I was younger, I sowed my wild oats for sure. I am not necessarily proud of it, I just consider it to be part of my life experience. So, it should not be to much a surprise to learn that the night before I killed my first gobbler, I had been up basically all night. I drove down from Memphis TN to Jackson MS to meet up with my best friend George. George was a wild oat farmer too by the way--we were a "happening" waiting to occur. George was a first time turkey hunter as well. His primary sport was duck hunting. To this day, he is the best wing shot I have ever seen. George's turkey gun of choice was a 12 guage H&R single shot with a 30 inch full choke barrel. While he was in the shower getting ready to go, I took the liberty of putting camo tape on it. Even though I had to use two different kinds of camo tape to finish the job--he beamed when he saw it and exclaimed "Good job Moe" (His nickname for me was and still is Moe--I am glad it didn't stick with anybody else).
We gathered up our gear and drove south to Hazlehurst MS to George's girlfriend's house. We didn't arrive until 10:00 PM and a party was in full swing. Well, without going into too much detail, lets just say one thing led to another and I was surprised to see my watch telling me it was 2:30 AM. The party by this hour was down to just a few hard core revelers. I had to creep around some of the dark areas of the house straining my eyes to find George so we could go. I found two shadowy figures in a back bedroom and I guessed one of them to be George. I whispered "PSST PSST George?" I got the reply I was looking for " Moe--is that you??" Yeah man, we need to go, we still have a two hour drive" I whispered. "Give me 10 more minutes Moe" George whispered back. I knew it was fruitless to argue--LOVE IS A POWERFULL THING. Feel free to quote me on that.
We made it to the turkey woods in Franklin County MS, just outside Meadville 20 minutes before day light. It wasn't the best day to turkey hunt. It was overcast, cool and windy. No gobbles met the dawn as the turkey hunting books I had been reading assured me would happen. We hiked to the edge of a little green field in the pines and more to show George my newly acquired calling skills than anything else, I put in the Primos True Double and cranked off a series of yelps. George liked it so much I cranked off another series for good measure. Then, without warning, two gobblers left their roost and sailed into the little field we were standing in. We were "naked" as they say and the gobblers immediately busted us and took off. It all happened in a few seconds, leaving us with mouths agape and eyebrows raised in unison.
The rest of the morning was uneventful, so to change our luck, we got back in my truck and drove to some private ground on the Bayou Pierre River just outside of Port Gibson MS. It was now 2:00 PM and he afternoon had turned off sunny and warm. I decided that we should split up and hunt separately. George is a about 6'2 and way over 200 lbs--there is just nothing dainty about him. That morning I felt like I had a Herford bull with me with all the sticks breaking, plodding footsteps and loud gusts of alcohol tinted breaths during each rest stop. As we split to go our separate ways, George wished me "Good luck". I confidently responded " I ain't coming back without a turkey". That statement turned out to be a self fulfilling prophesy.
I left George sitting under a big oak tree beside a big hay field. He refused to wear a mask and has a very light complexion. I remember as I looked back at him one last time that his face was shining like a new pair of shoes on Easter morning. I had to smile a bit but then tried to "get my mind right"---I had a turkey to kill.
I left the hay field and made my way up a little hardwood draw. I was always a good squirrel hunter so I used those skills to creep quietly with my eyes and ears at full combat alert. I heard what I now know to be a gobbler yelp--at the time--I simply recognized it as a turkey. I immediately sat down by a big pine tree with an old hog wire fence not 5 yards in front to me. I got my gun up on one knee and made some yelps that I had spent the past month so dutifully practicing. The gobbler continued to yelp, but never gobbled. I didn't have the opportunity to get 'Gobbler Fever". He came in quickly with nary a gobble. I shot him through the fence at 20 yards. WAHOOO!!! I cut a short piece of sampling, tied his feet to it and carried him out. I had only been gone a little over an hour. I could see that big white face of Georges shining long before I reached the oak tree he was sitting under. "I told you I wasn't coming back without a turkey" I boasted. George put me in a big bear hug and said " Moe--you are something else!"
George is an interesting character. Unless you were close to him, you would not know that he is a very spiritual person. In fact, he is so spiritual we joke that he practices all the religions so as not to leave anything out. He is the only baptistcatholicjewishlutheran person I have ever met. I suppose with me knowing this about him, I wasn't too surprised that he announced that we were going to build a little fire and offer up a sacrifice of turkey entrails to the gods---so that is what we did. The self righteous among us might consider what we did to be a pagonistic act--but to me--it was a special moment with my best friend and my first gobbler
^^ You tell a pretty good story... ;D
Catdaddy bringing the ink! Good to hear from you. Great read as usual.
I think I was 29 when I killed my first bird. I have the luxury of only being able to hunt WMA's, and was very familiar with a small one near home. I left work that morning and drove to the property arriving at about 8:30. When I drove out of the woods into the first field, I say three birds out in the open. I backed up, parked my truck in the bushes, and changed clothes. I could already picture the grease getting hot. I moved to the edge of the field, hid in some bushes, and proceeded to blow the sweetest tune ever on my Primos Sonic Dome. Were these birds deaf? Do they not hear the beautiful sounds coming from the edge of the field? To my amazement, the birds simply walked away to the other side of the field. After they were out of sight, I started to skirt the field on a road way in the complete wide open. After walking several minutes, I get a phone call from my college advisor and registered for classes right then and there. I continued to walk around the edge of the field when I came to a small terrace. Just on the other side, I saw those three birds again. I hunkered down in three inch high grass with no sort of cover except for the terrace. I proceeded my sweet melody again and the birds still fed away from me! I sat up just a little and really let that call have it. I must have hit the right note because all three of those birds hit the brakes and came straight at me full tilt. I ducked back down in the prone position and three heads popped up on the other side. The first bird I saw that had a beard got a face full of number #5's from my 20 gauge. I think I was on my feet before the bird was off of his. Eleven paces later, I had my hands on my first bird. When I got home, I had to YouTube a video on how to clean a turkey. It was so much fun, and every year I get the fever. My wife told me I cannot talk about turkey hunting until the season is about two weeks away. She just doesn't get it.
It was 1998 and I was 14 or so. Growing up on a farm in central MO I had always seen turkeys growing up, but no one in my family except for a cousin really hunted them. I taught myself how to call by listening to the tame turkeys on the farm, my only turkey call was an HS Strut Raspy old hen that I could yelp and cluck on. I went out the first Saturday and found a bird gobbling on the roost, he was HOT!
I put out a couple decoys (because I thought I HAD to have them) and called. I was hunting a pasture edge and he was in the adjacent woodlot. I guess the cows were extra nosy because when he came across the pasture towards me in full strut, they whole herd trotted at him. He went back in the woods and continued to gobble. I ran the cows off only for them to come right back and begin smelling and spinning my decoys around.
A shot rang off down the holler and they cows ran back to the field and began feeding, bored with the decoy spinning, I guess. The bird was still gobbling so I sat my decoys back up and started calling again. He came back and probably would have walked up in my lap, but I rolled him at 40 yards because I was so nervous/excited that I could not help it.
A nice 2 year old first turkey.
(http://i126.photobucket.com/albums/p85/UKturkeyhunter/Joey1stTurkey_zps7cec4e42.jpg) (http://s126.photobucket.com/user/UKturkeyhunter/media/Joey1stTurkey_zps7cec4e42.jpg.html)
Cool pic, thanks for sharing! Love to hear the old stories.
(http://i251.photobucket.com/albums/gg299/TrackeySauresRex/image.jpg1_zpstuxhv7ba.jpg) (http://s251.photobucket.com/user/TrackeySauresRex/media/image.jpg1_zpstuxhv7ba.jpg.html)
:funnyturkey:
It looks like this thread may have played itself out, so I just wanted to say thanks again to everybody that responded. I've really enjoyed all the stories, the pictures and the video. Thanks for sharing. :icon_thumright:
Bob
It was my second season trying to get a turkey. I was 12 years old at the time. Dad and I had been set up for a few hours with no response from a bird. The wind had really began to pick up so we decided to leave. As we were getting up, I thought I heard a turkey gobble down the tree line to our left. I told Dad that I thought I heard one, but wasn't for sure, so he hit a series of yelps on the lohman box call, which was cut off by a "faint" (seemed faint because of the wind) gobble. So we quickly sat back down and got ready..Wasn't but a short few minutes that I saw the head and neck of a turkey coming from our left. Then the whole bird appeared and as soon as I saw a beard, i fired. We had a camera at the time, but since it happened so fast, we only got the camera turned on immediately after the shot. It's funny to watch my shake and say "this is awesome" into the camera. I was hooked.
The bird weighed 22.5lbs, had 1" spurs, and an 11" beard.
First Gobbler/Turkey was when I was 14. I watched hunters on t.v. and was like how hard could it be (didn't have anyone to teach me as my dad didn't hunt). I went & bought some slate calls & a box call. I praticed making the sounds that the pros did all winter long. Opening day I was positioned about 30 yards in from a public field with my back against a huge oak. I had seen turkeys there plenty of times and felt good about my chances. At approx. 8am I was starting to pack up my things b/c I hadn't seen or heard a bird at all. As I was picking up a gobbler gobbled right behind that oak & made me just about crap my pants b/c it was unexpected and scared the heck out of me. This was the first time I had heard a gobble and it was close. I quickly grabbed my Win 1300 and waited until he walked from behind my tree. He gobbled again when he was at about 8yards away and it was the coolest thing ever. I waited until he got about 20 yards away from me (always was told that you needed a little room for the shot to open up some) & then laid him to rest. 23 lbs, 1in spurs, 9 1/4 beard. The coolest experience turkey hunting and the start of my addiction. Taught me that patience truly does pay off when hunting birds & that it didn't always go as planned. I have had many birds come in silently since but none like that. Still wonder if I called very well or if he was coming in out of curiosity to see what kind of sick bird was making those crazy sounds (I know that I didn't kill another bird until 2 yrs later though).
I've read every story and enjoyed every one of them. I will contribute soon to the thread. Keep them coming. Its been a joy to read.
For me, there are a bunch of birds in my First Bird firmament. Each one kind was a first in its own right.
There was this one:
My first Turkey Hunt (http://genesis9.angzva.com/?p=1069)
That's the one that got me hooked on turkey hunting. It took 5 more years before I finally saw that old gob, or maybe it was his brother. I was at the very back corner of Gordon's property with my back on the corner fence post, when the gob came out a good 100 yards away and stood there strutting with a red sun rising over his right shoulder. I had been going to Gordon's orchard like a religious pilgrimage all that time. By now I was married and had a son, and Big Bob's knees had given out and he could not go anymore. I was hunting alone. However, for the better part of a half an hour, that old gobbler stood there and danced for me, and I was transfixed.
My first chance at a shot was 3 years later. Mind you the reason it was taking so long was that I only had 1-2 days a year when I could get out and hunt. There were not all that many birds around and at Gordon's place there were no roosting flocks. You had to call them in from the neighbor's property. I switched my turkey hunting in the 90's to a farm in Warsaw, Kentucky. I still never bagged a bird, but on a cold, windy April morning, I managed to get a gobbler to start making his way to me. It took over a half hour, and he had to come over from the neighbor's place, finding his way through a fence as he came. I was still very inexperienced, despite being at it for 10 years, and I had gotten myself wedged in in the "Y" of two crossing logs with the barrel of my shotgun pointing the wrong way. All of a sudden a red head popped itself about 10 yards away and scared the beejesus out of me. I scrambled to get the gun turned around and pointed. By the time I had the bead on him he was airborne. I emptied my magazine at him as he flew off. I hear him alight about a hundred yards away, and heard him running after that.
After giving up on Gordon's place and the place in Warsaw, I decided to hire a guide, pay money and get my cherry popped. That happened at over on the American Power lands over by McConnelsville, Ohio. The guide was a retired PA Game Warden named Ernie. Our first attempt ended poorly. He called two gobblers in, but my glasses fogged at the wrong time, and I never saw them. Finally, on the third day, we got ourselves into one of those ideal situations with a bunch of horny gobblers at flydown and had gobs coming from all sides. The gob that finally presented himself came in on our Six. I had to roll over and lie prone to take the shot. It turned out to be a boisterous jake that interjected himself at the last moment.
(http://www.blackholecoffeehouse.com/DorfnErnie.JPG)
Finally, in 2002, I had my own place, 200 acres in the Trans-Bluegrass. I took a whole week off work to hunt. I had heard a lot of action down in the bottoms of Pity Creek, so I spent the first 6 days down there getting my butt kick. In the subsequent 14 seasons, I still have not taken a turkey out of that creek bottom. However, about mid-week I began to wise up. The rest I'll leave for what I wrote at the time:
Turkey Camp, 2002 (http://genesis9.angzva.com/?p=1401)
More great firsts, Awesome! I'm tempted to print this all out and keep it, if nobody objects. That way I've got my first bird to think back on, and I can enjoy reading about all your "firsts" any time I want, too. Thanks.
Bob
my turkey hunting addiction kinda happened by accident,when i was about 13 every year during deer season me and three of my good friends would camp out at one guys house and deer hunt while we were off for school,we made this kinda a tradition and did it every year for several seasons.we live in eastern ky and this boys family had a great farm and we could hunt all the surrounding areas around it too.we had seen turkeys during deer season but never gave them much thought.one of the guys decided we should try to get one the following spring,we agreed.that spring came and we were back over there,we all put 5 dollars in a pot and the one with the biggest turkey would collect,i had bought a cheep little turkey call that week and could make a decent racket on it.that morning we all split up away from each other and were on our own.not knowing what to do i walked around and made a racket,when all of a sudden one gobbled,i was hooked imediatly as the hair stood up on my neck,that was the first one i had heard gobble in the wild and it just did something to me.i called and he would gobble,he closed the distance to about 80 yards but wouldnt come no closer,none of us got a turkey that day,or the rest of that season for a matter of fact,they decided i should get the money at the closing of the season cause i was the most devoted,i was over there every chance i got trying to get one.i got close a time or two but couldnt get them on it.the rest of the year i was a turkey addict,i read everything i could find,watched old hunting shows,stayed in the woods just trying to watch them and figure them out.i had no one to show me the ropes and i had to learn on my own.the next spring i couldnt wait,i was better than the year before but not a whole lot.it was getting close to the end of the season and finally it happened,i was walking out one evening and ran face to face with a hen,luckily it didnt alarm put it just took off quick,i dropped down on my knees craweld to the nearest tree as this was on the edge of a field i got out an old box i had bought and yelped about three times one gobbled so close i should have been able to see him but couldnt.i sat real still and in what seemed like forever,but was just a few short minutes i saw a fan coming through the timber.my heart was about to bust,i thought he was gonna hear it.i shot him about twenty yards away and got my first bird.i just sat and looked at him for a moment,i had never been so proud as i was carrying him over my shoulder,and i will never forget that day,the white dogwoods,what he looked like coming,it all.that was a long time ago and i have been turkey crazy ever since,fortunatly each year i would learn from my mistakes and i can finally consider myself a decent turkey hunter.those other guys just didnt get it like i did,they go every now and then but they are deer hunters,me im a turkey hunter,i almost forgot about the deer the first time i heard that first gobble.i got that first one mounted and still have him hanging in my living room and he still looks great,he was the one that started it all and i am so glad i got him mounted by a good taxidermist,in fact he is still one of the better birds i have ever gotten 24 pounds,10.5" beard,and 1'3/8 spurs.
I was raised in the woods hunting. I started going squirrel hunting with my dad when I was 5 years old. I killed my first buck deer sitting by myself when I was 10 tens old. I continued to kill deer on a regular basis which was something back in the early 60s in Arkansas. Our deer seasons were two one-week seasons and if was buck-only. So I knew my way around in the hunting arena.
We did not have a huntable number of turkeys in my county until 1995 when they opened our first turkey season. I went to Walmart the night before season and bought a Knight & Hale double glass pot call. I took it home and ground around on it until I finally started getting some squeaks out of it. I got up before daylight the next morning and went to our family farm. I did not know where to go so I went to a ridge where I deer hunt. As it started to get light I heard a couple birds gobbling at a distance but that did not mean much to me. I sat down against a big oak tree and pulled the pot call out of my pocket. I did not have a vest. The striker was a hard plastic peg. I started grinding on the call and got a squeak out of it. A gobbler exploded about 75 yards from me. It liked to have scared me to death. I would make a sound and he would gobble. He strutted right up to me and I killed him with #4s out of an old Belgium A-5 3-inch magnum Browning. I took the gobbler home and since it was early I decided to go back and hunt some more. I went to the same place I had killed the first gobbler and started calling. A bird answered me at a distance. It was just a couple minutes he came over the ridge looking for something. I hate to say I was sounding like a hen. I killed him also. First day of turkey hunting and I have killed two 20+ pound gobblers with 10 inch beards. Nothing to this turkey hunting. Yea, right. Needless to say that hooked me. I hate that I was older before I got started but I have tried to make up for lost time. I hunt several states and I am on my second hundred now. What a rush.
I shot my first gobbler in South Dakota in 1988. It was raining and started to thunder and lightening when I heard a him gobble. I called to him and he responded and then he went silent. I was watching the brush when he stuck his big red head above it. The 12 ga. Remington 1100 roared and down he went. I'll never forget that day!
Thanks for the new replies! Each time I think I've gotten all the stories I'm going to get, you surprise me with a few more. I've enjoyed and appreciate each one, thank you. :icon_thumright:
Bob
My first turkey, a jake, wasn't a special story. He saw my dekes, ran across the hammock and got shot.
My first gobbler though, now that was a story!
I was hunting a WMA in FLA, sitting in an oak hammock next to a swamp where the turkeys roosted. Later in the morning I heard sirens approaching out on the highway. In between the high and low pitch of the sirens, I thought I heard a gobble. Again I thought I heard it. Then again. The fourth time I was sure, and it was getting closer!! The fire truck went by and started to fade away. The gobbler was now gobbling about 100 yards away. I could tell he was walking on the sandy fire break that ringed the hammock, separating it from the pines.
Being a fire dep't Lieutenant :firefighter:, I knew it was destiny, and that this gobbler would be mine!! I picked up my box call and floated out some yelps to him. He instantly gobbled back. A minute later, I called again. He fired back, and he was closer!! Another series of calls, and resulting gobbles, then I saw the snow white cap of his head bobbing down the fire break.
I waited until he reached an opening, then softly yelped on a mouth call. He broke into strut and entered the hammock. He immediately saw my decoys, but opted to strut at the far range of my gun. Back and forth he went, several times. Finally he walked behind a palmetto bush. I raised my gun, clucked and let out a couple of soft yelps. He came back out from the bush and eased his way in towards the decoys. At 20 yards, I dropped the hammer on him! :fud: :turkey: He piled up and I had my first mature gobbler!! :you_rock:
But that wasn't the end of the story. My buddies were supposed to meet me on the fire break 100 yards behind where I was sitting around the same time. They'd had no luck and got there a few minutes early. As they approached, talking out loud to each other, my shot rang out. They were afraid that a gobbler had heard them, spooked and ran, causing me to rush the shot and miss. Not wanting to be blamed for that, they turned around and beat feet back to the trucks!! :emoticon-cartoon-012: They were milling around the trucks talking and drinking water, acting like they'd been there all along. ;D Then they noticed I had a gobbler!! ;D :funnyturkey: Once they saw I got my bird, they broke down and told me the truth. ;D
It was a super exciting hunt for me!! My gobbler weighed 18 lb's, had an 8 inch beard and 3/4 inch spurs.
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v476/RutnNStrutn/Hunting%20Pics/fireturk.jpg)