Some of My most memorable over 45+ years

[cwb04]

I really enjoyed reading those stories.  You definitely have a knack for story telling.  Great reads for sure.  Thanks for taking the time to put your stories our.
Gets me fired up for March - can't wait.   

[eggshell]

Maybe I can think up a couple others.

[Lcmacd 58]

Awesome memories.... its a gift you have put them out here to share with us

[eggshell]

A hole in one

This season took place sometime between 2006 and 2009. The three musketeers (myself and my two best friends) made their annual trip to Kentucky to get a few days of hunting before our Ohio season opened. Opening morning saw two birds hit the dirt for my buddies but I struck out. I had a bird torment me all morning only to move off with hens. I decided I would go back and see if he would try and gather a harem that evening. About 5:00 PM I heard the soft calling of a hen and then another. They seemed to be heading my way, so I sat tight and waited. Sure enough here came four hens with Mr. Long beard in tow. A couple soft calls and they drifted my way. Of course their boyfriend followed. Soon they led him into range and his party with the girls ended right there. We were all pretty pumped and had visions of tagging out in a day or two. That did not happen. We headed home to hunt with plans to return for other other tags. This area of Kentucky is only two hours from home.

Three weeks go by and we have not found the time to return, because the birds have been stubbornly uncooperative at home. I am tagged out but my buddies are not. Finally with two days left in Kentucky season one of them agrees to go back with me. We hunt with no luck until 9:30 and come back to the truck. A local friend who is tagged out calls to see how we done and I inform him poorly. He tells me he has heard a bird up the road that starts gobbling around 10:00 every morning. So we jump in the truck and head that way. I stop at a pull off and get out and owl hoot and bingo he gobbles. We park and head that way, but we have to find a riffle to wade the river. After that we head up the ridge and decide to split and see which way he wants to go. I strike him first and I can see Joe down in the valley giving me a thumbs up and a go get him sign. I move to the bench and set up with the bird on a higher bench above a small cliff. I do not like this set up but it is this or nothing. I set up within shot range of the cliff edge. After about 30 minutes of dueling I hear spittin and drumming above and get ready. I see a head, a fan and then a whole gobbler peering down off the cliff edge, but more to my right. I know he's still in range but not my ideal range. It's shoot or eat tag soup. I have to bend around and shoot up hill but I get the move made. The gun cracks and I see tom roll over backwards and internally say yes sir. Then I hear wings beating and I see him lift off the cliff sailing right across in front of me. The old grouse hunter instincts kick in and I swing through and shoot. He folds like a blanket in the wind and crashes with a thud. He falls out of sight over the hill and I am quickly on my way to recover my prize. Once in the area I see absolutely no sign of the bird and I begin to feel ill. I seen him fold and I heard the thud, surely he is dead. Joe yells from behind and below, and I yell back come help me find him. He says I heard a crash, didn't you get him? I said I thought so, he folded up completely. We looked and there was not even a sign of where the gobbler fell. I was getting more ill all the time. Suddenly I heard a thumbing sound and as I looked towards it, a foot rose up out of a stump at about 20 yards. I walked over and pulled my gobbler out of that hollow stump like pulling a rabbit out of a hat. I grinned and looked at Joe and smugly said, beat that, a hole in one. We both laughed and agreed we would never believe a story like this if it wasn't our own. You think your good at corn hole, try turkey stumping. I assure you this is a true story. 

[GobbleNut]

    Good stuff, Dana!   

[Kygobblergetter]

I'm glad I came back to read this one. Great story!


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

[eggshell]

10:00 oclock, 11:00 oclock  and high noon at the Ridge top

This story find us back in Kentucky for an opening day. We are pumped as prescouting has told us this valley has a bunch of birds. Daylight of opening day has us sitting waiting for that first glorious gobble. Right on cue it floats across the morning air. He's around the hillside ahead of us more than we anticipated, but we have the high ground. It doesn't take us long and we're set up. I position my buddy to be in first shot position, as it's his turn. This bird read the classic hunt stories told around many campfires and gobbles like crazy and hops off the roost ready for love. He struts his way right up to the bench and stands for execution. The only bad part of this hunt so far his he flops down a very steep hillside for 200 yards and makes for a harder than desired recovery.

Proud of that effort we back off and head towards a place we call the rock and saddle. It always hold birds. As we approach we hear a bird and then decide it's multiple birds. It going to be a hard set up as they have the high ground and a clear open woods to see us coming. We play the game with this group for a couple hours and decide we're destined to loose. We retreat to the truck and stash the bird we have and head up a fire road to a ridge across the valley. I decide to go up the face and about half way we begin to question my sanity. It is steep and tough going. We hit a low point of the ridge just below the main ridgeline and I throw a cut and a gobble drifts back from somewhere ahead. We decide it's far enough we need to move up to the ridgeline. As we reach the highest point that bird gobbles and he is not near as far as we thought or has already come our way. I rush to a tree and sit down and my buddy hunches down behind  and just over my right shoulder. I never noticed I was sitting down in a depression. I wait and let things calm and I make a soft call and I'm about blown off the mountain. I can not see anything that resembles a Gobbler. My buddy whispers in my ear, "I see them, take him". I still can't see a bird. I whisper back , "where are they?" He says about 25 - 30 yards out and now I'm frustrated and whisper back harshly, "Where!". He whispers look at 10:00 oclock, then he says, "11:00 oclock and still I see nothing. Finally he whispers, "12 oclock high noon, shoot that damn bird, he 15 yards". At that point I get my first look at him as a head pops up right in front of me. I need practically no adjustment and a short quick move of the gun barrel and I squeeze off my shot. Down goes old longbeard. We get up and high five and my buddy is beside himself as he was almost in a panic that I wasn't going to get a shot off before we were busted. He had maybe 4-6 inches of elevation over me, but it was enough he got to see them coming all the way. If I had not had a spotter I doubt I would have killed that bird. I learned to look where I sit that day.

Next up "Sunshine Love"

[eggshell]

Sunshine Love Mood

One of my buddies and I met up for this hunt in an area we both had found success in and liked to hunt. I had one tag left from all my tags and he had been struggling to fill his last tag. We were kind of in the same boat, but he had only bagged one gobbler and was getting frustrated. I insisted he be the gun on our first set up when a bird opened up on a point above us. We set up in a saddle we knew birds liked to come into. This bird was hot right off the roost and being late season it took some coaxing to get him coming, but the two of us calling back and forth seemed to stir him up. I guess he was tempted by two available girls this late in season. Soon he gobbled right in front of us and we knew the game was in the last minutes and it was first and goal to go. It was a foggy morning and rain was coming, so we wanted to dust this bird and get out dry. Soon I could see him picking his way through the woods. He went behind a stump mound and my buddy raised his gun and was ready when the gobbler popped out at 20 yards. Soon as old Sh*t head cleared the dirt mound I heard my buddies safety click off, but so did old sh*t head. I never in my life saw a bird spook and get out of dodge as fast as that old long Beard. My buddy never even got off a shot. TO add insult he landed in a tree 100 yards out and sat there putting. I think my buddy called him an unsavory name and may have flipped him the middle finger as we stood up disappointed.

So off we took in quest of another gobbler. Then the rain came and we pulled out the rain gear. I suggested we head around the bench and then cut up through a mountain gap into an area some call the low gap. That strategy did not turn out well as we found ourselves in a mass of blow-downs. Finally we made our way down into the low gap and the rain just came harder. We are tired and soaking wet and my buddy just looks at me with a form of disdain, if he ever was tempted to harm me this was probably the time. So we decide it's time to head back to the truck, but that is also a 2 mile hike. I'm just thankful it's all around a bench and not hard walking. We work slowly and still offer a call here and there. About half way to the truck the rain suddenly stops and soon the sun is shining bright. I stop in my tracks and say, "listen". My buddy stops and ask, "listen to what, I don't hear anything".  I say, "didn't you hear that old gobbler shake the water out of his feathers and say, I am ready for some love?. He mumbles something about hunting with an idiot and we move on. About two hundred yards later a thunderous gobble explodes from across the valley. I immediately turn and retort, "see I told you". I call and the hillside explodes. We are instantly on our way across this valley but it is steep down and steeper going up, but thundering gobbles keep us going. Soon we are just below the bench lip and realize we can not go further without spooking birds. So we plant our feet in brace against trees and I make a soft yelp. The reply cut off my yelp and two or three thundering gobbles followed. The next gobble was just out of site above us but over the bench lip. We shoulder our guns ready for a fan and head to appear and know we will have to shoot quick. I see movement but it's a hen and then another and they are giving us a cussing and coming hard. This is bad news. Yup they break the lip and are right on top of us. The first one spots me and instantly putts and flies up into a tree, while the other flies off across the valley. This is one of those mornings I am taking no prisoners and throwing out the rules. I exclaim to my buddy, "lets go". and I jump up and am in full on Calvary charge  mode. I make the 20 yards to the bench lip fast and when I go over the lip I find myself in the middle of 6 long-beards strutting. They all look at me dumbfounded and begin to run off, but one stops and looks back at 30 yards and he quickly pays a big price for that stupidity. Another stops off to my left at 40 yards and I yell shoot him Al, but Al doesn't respond. The bird runs off and flies. Then I see Al plodding up the bank well behind me. His first comment was, " I didn't know you meant "charge the damn birds", I though you were sneaking up. He sees my flopping bird and says, "at least you got one. I tag my bird and we take a break on a log. Soon a bird opens up and we set up on him, but an hour of coaxing ensues and he will not come. We are both wet and tired and agree to take our spoils and go home. Al went back later and got his final bird. So if your ever hunting one of those wet miserable days and suddenly the sun shines, remember, that just means it's time for some sunshine love.

[TRG3]

I'd used all of my persuasion calls on these two gobblers that were hung up about 100 yards away. It was nearing noon and the close of that day's legal hunting in Illinois. While just sitting there trying to figure out what else I could do, a hen responded to my calling. She was behind me and would answer my yelps, etc. Wanting to get her fired up and possibly bring in a gobbler that might be with her, I began aggressively returning her calls. This went on for 5-10 minutes when I looked up and saw the two gobbler that had been hung up come running to my decoys. I dropped one with a load of #5s. In a few minutes, I heard "I see you got one!" coming from an unseen buddy, the source of the hen calling to which I'd been responding. I didn't know it was him yelping and he didn't know it was me calling. Between the two of us, we had portrayed a scene that the two hung up gobblers had interpreted as real and rushed in to investigate.  Sometimes you are the windshield...and sometimes you are the bug!