Let me preface this by saying that I apologize for the quality of the pictures as I was forced to photograph old 35mm photos with my digital camera to get them on here.Hello everyone,
I figure if I'm going to introduce myself that I'd better tell you the whole story. I was born in West Virginia during the Spring of 1971 and quickly fell in love with the outdoors. My father loved to deer hunt and fish but he never turkey hunted. When I was 6 years old he purchased a farm and I began to accompany him into the woods. I really wasn't aware of wild turkeys or how to hunt them as my Father was a deer hunter. All that changed in the Spring of 1978.
I was 7 years old and we were headed to the farm to do some busy work. We were travelling along the old gravel road that lead to our hunting camp and there, just off of the side of the road I saw a sight that to this day, almost 34 years later, is burned into my memory. I can still see him as clear as if it were yesterday. A longbeard was displaying for a group of hens. Dad and I watched the group for some time before moving on. Immediately I began asking my Dad a bunch of questions about what Wild Turkeys were, and if he'd take me to hunt them. He didn't know much about Wild Turkeys and informed me that turkey hunting can be dangerous and that I was too young.
Fast forward 3 years to the Spring of 1981. By this time I had read everything I could get my hands on about hunting Wild Turkeys and my Dad finally caved in to the relentless begging and agreed to take me Spring Gobbler hunting. Back then I'd "yelp 3 times every 15 minutes" because that's what I had read in Fur Fish and Game. On my very first hunt Dad and I sat together as Gobblers gobbled around us and soaked it all in. I managed to call in a lone hen that day (with a diaphram call at 10 yrs of age) and I was hooked forever.
Over the course of the next 4 years I got to hunt a day or two each Spring as time permitted and Dad could swing it but I never got a chance to tag one or even really chase Wild Turkeys until the Spring of 1985. My Mother worked for a nice Doctor who had a farm and he agreed to let me hunt there before school during the 1985 season. This was great as it was just up the road from my house and I could walk there in the mornings. After committing every blunder that you can imagine, at age 14 I finally managed to trick one into walking into shotgun range. He was a little 13 pound Jake but to me at that time, he was the world record.
After this my Wild Turkey fever went from 100.1 to 106 and now, 27 years later, I still haven't figured out a way to get the fever to go away.... or even subside a little. Anyway, after I managed to trick that first gobbler, my family was beginning to think I was obsessed, part of a cult, or inflicted with some sort of disease. In a way, I was all of the above.
They just don't know what we turkey hunters know. The sound of the woods waking up. Getting to watch the Sun rise. Getting to experience Mother Nature's beauty from the front row. I've got so many wonderful memories associated with chasing Spring Gobblers.
Like 1989 as a Senior in High School when we captured our first kill on video after we had watched a couple of the newly released Primos Truth Series videos, decided we were videographers, and stole Dad's new video camera. Family really starting to worry.
In 1990 I had my first run in with a gobbler that drove me so crazy that I gave him a name. I was happy to put my tag on 'Three Toe'. He had 1/2 of one of his side toes missing and I chased him for 6 straight days before finally killing him. He had me drawing maps and talking to friends on the telephone late into the night. Family was convinced I had gone mad.
Turkey woods memories from my College days.
Once I got out of college and actually had some $ in my pocket I decided that my fever couldn't be cured from chasing Eastern gobblers alone. I just had to try and get one of those beautiful Rios. Mission accomplished in 1998. Fever still not cured. Family still worried.
Now that I had two of the four subspecies I just had to keep going. On to Montana in 2002 for my Merriams. Fever still not cured. Family still worried.
Now I have 3 of the 4 and I keep telling myself that next Spring is the Spring that I'm going to make it back to Florida and get my Osceola to round out my slam. I went down in 1993 but caught the tail end of a Hurricane and hunted 3 days without ever hearing a gobble. Someday...
Anyway, there's getting to be more and more wrinkles around my eyes and I don't get to a gobbling turkey quite as fast as I once did, but I still love the game.
I must tell you about the craziest hunt I ever had. After a friend had tagged out we were on our way home driving through an open field along a gravel road when we spotted a gobbler walking along the field edge some 300 yards away. Remember, we were sitting in a Silver F-150 in an open field. Just for kicks I yelped and cutt to him and he immediately fanned up, gobbled, and started heading our way. At first we laughed but once he got within 100 yards the situation became serious. Rick looked at me and said "I actually think he's going to walk right up to the truck." My response was swift: "If he's dumb enough to walk up here, I'm dumb enough to try and kill him." I was sitting in the front passenger side seat and slowly uncased and loaded my gun. As he neared the vehicle he walked under a small lip in the bank which gave me just enough time to slip out the passengers side door and slink over to the far side of the road not 10 yards away from the tailgate. Sure enough he marched right up the bank and into the gravel road where I shot him not 10 steps from the tailgate of a Silver Ford F-150 with my friend sitting there watching it all unfold. To this day, we laugh about it. If I weren't there I wouldn't believe it happened. Proof that a lovesick gobbler will do most anything. Here's Rick with his gobbler from that morning along with me and the 'truck gobbler'.
This Spring will make my 31st and I've killed some nice gobblers but no absolute monsters. Here's what is one of my 3 best birds ever: 22 pds, 11 1/4" + 7" beards, 1 5/8" spurs. The other two were single bearded and almost carbon copies of this guy. I'm still waiting on that 1 7/8"er.
This past Spring
Anyway....I'm glad I found this forum as it seems to be filled with a bunch of folks who have the fever.... just like me. I'm nearing 41 and my fever is still raging. I've given up hope for finding a cure.
My family is still worried.
