Some of My most memorable over 45+ years

[eggshell]

A Fall of splendor and plenty

This story is about a fall hunt in Ky. Three of us, my best friend, my wife's uncle and myself headed to Kentucky for three days of fall gun hunting. We left home mid afternoon with the idea we'd just spread  out in our targeted valley for a couple hrs that evening and see if we could locate some birds to go in on the next morning. There is a stream that runs the length of this valley, so we always took a john boat to hunt both sides. On arrival, they dumped me out in the head of the valley and the other two took the truck and boat down stream in the valley.

I climbed a steep hill off the road and walked that for two hours and found no sign. There was still some shooting time left, but I decided to just go down to the road and sit and wait for the other two to come pick me up. I had barely sat down on a big rock along the road when I heard turkeys calling. They were across the stream. I made my way across a field and down to the river. I could hear the birds calling up on the opposite hillside. I called to them and they answered. I had no way to get too them so I just sat at the water's edge and kept them talking, with the thought I'd have them located for the next morning. They kept getting closer and closer,  then I could see some birds. Oh crap I better hide. So I scoot up to a tree and watch. One young gobbler was really interested in where that other turkey was and kept coming down this very steep bank towards the river. I started assessing how far it was across the river and decided I could kill him if he came all the way down. Well, he did and I shot him. When he went down, he flopped into the river and started to float away. I walked along and kept track of him until he hung up in a tree top. I went back up to the road and waited for my partners. It was pitch black when they pulled up. They both asked if I heard or seen anything, they hadn't. I told them I killed one and they instantly chided, "where is he"? I said, "floating in the river" and they laughed. They thought it was a joke. Finally my wife's uncle asked if I was serious and I said yes, we need the boat. He let me know if he helped drag the boat clear across that field and there was no dead turkey he was going to drown me. So we get the boat in the river and start to paddle to the last spot I saw the turkey and it was gone. Now my life was being threatened and I insisted he floated down stream. So off we took and about 100 yards later we found the birds and I had the last laugh. Man, they are sad looking creatures pulled from a river.

The next morning found us across the river sitting on the rest of the flock, as they had scattered when I shot the evening before. At first light they started calling and we started pleading our case. The old boss hen was above me and I wanted her gone, so when she came by me I shot her and signalled the other two to keep calling. Finally another bird showed up and ny buddy killed it. We decided that three out of a flock was enough and left. We drove to another area and took off with only my wife's uncle carrying a gun. We were about to round a bend when I got a cluck in response to my call and we sat down. We hadn't noticed, but there was a big blow down right in front of us. This flock came right to us, but he couldn't shoot for the blow down. The butt of the tree was about 3 feet off the ground and finally the flock worked that way and he decided to lay down in a prone position and shoot under the log. The birds spooked but he still got on one and killed it. Dang, 4 turkeys down and it wasn't even mid day of what was actually our first day.  The rest of the day we scouted and visited with local friends.

Day two found us back across the river in another favorite spot. I was tagged out and the other two had one tag each. We hunted hard and never found any birds. We decided to call it and move to another spot. On the way out we walked right into a flock and our only choice was to bust the flock. we done our best but it wasn't a good bust. The other two set up in the direction a couple of the birds went that separated the most from the flock. In about 20 minutes they started calling and luck was on our side as they met right in front of my friends and they doubled up on the two birds. We all just looked at each other in amazement at the way this trip unfolded. we had tagged out with 6 birds in one short evening and two short mornings. We were going home early. Needless to say it usually doesn't go this way, but this trip was a fall bounty.

[eggshell]

Four beards and a Butt chewing

This hunt was in the 1980s while I was working at the state fish hatchery. Spring was a very busy time at the hatchery and much of my turkey hunting consisted of a quick hour or maybe two before work. It was my good fortune the hatchery was located right in prime turkey country and there were usually birds right on the property.

I had spent a couple mornings in the valley just N.E. of our facility and messed with a group of gobblers that were being difficult. This valley was mostly state forest or paper company land under agreement for public hunting. A small piece of private transected the public grounds. We were hauling trout this day so I only had time for a quick hunt. One of the guys who worked fisheries at a local lake was helping us, but wanted to get a quick hunt in too. So, we agreed to go into the valley together and I'd hunt the west side and he the east side.

At gobble time birds opened up on  the east side and I knew Jim was on them and sat down to listen to his hunt. I could hear him calling and thought there would be a shot any time, but the shot never came. I decided to move up the hill and see if I could find a bird. For some reason I thought I would throw a call and see if I could get JIm's birds to answer and maybe give him a location. I got an answer but they were well below him on the hill. I listened for a moment and started my climb, then I heard a gobble and it came from below me. I thought, "what the heck, there was a bird on my side that I must have walked by on the way in". The next gobble was closer and I set up fast and made a call. I got an answer, but there was multiple birds. There they are, I see them coming and I get ready. At 40 yards the lead bird stops and starts flicking his wings and doing the "I'm about to leave dance". So I bead down on him and kill him. I tag my bird and head to the truck, not thinking much about what had actually happened, just happy with my bird.

When I arrive at my truck I am putting my gear away when I hear a pissed off voice say, you make a habit of trespassing? You were on my land when you shot that turkey. Here was the private landowner that lived just up the dead end lane. I explained I never trespassed and new exactly where I was on paper company land. I also explained I worked for ODNR fisheries and could be fired for a game violation. It never phased him as he explained he was an old marine and took no bullshot or prisoners and I should of thought of my career before I trespassed. I was now really worried, but I knew I was right and I was close to his line but still where I was legal. Still didn't need the investigation if he called the main office. Jim was still in the woods as I left.   

In about a half hour Jim showed up at the hatchery and said he wanted to see my bird. I showed it to him and he instantly said, "dang, how many beards that thing have?". I replied with what are you talking about and he said look. I did and discovered it had four beards totaling 23.5 inches. Then everyone had to start looking at it. I had been so distracted by my  chewing I hadn't even noticed. It wasn't a big bird and weighed 17.5 pounds and only had 1 1/8" spurs.  Jim told how he had sparred with the birds on his side, but all morning they wanted to drift down the hill towards my side. Finally they shut up and he could see them heading down to cross. He explained it was about that time I made my call and they took off practically running to me. I happened to be where they wanted to be. It was my good fortune and there was no hard feelings from Jim. Actually he went back two days later and killed one of the others and it  had a 13" beard, the longest I had ever seen, those birds had good beard genes I guess.

I waited all day for the call I knew was coming about my encounter with the landowner. I had decided I would just have to have a law investigator come out and show him I was legal. In the mean time my friends from Ky. showed up for a three day hunt and stopped by work to wait for me to get off. About that time I see a vehicle pulling in and it is the landowner. I tell my friends this is about to get ugly with this old marine. One of these friends is an ex-marine and wounded warrior. He said, I can handle a fellow marine. As this old gruff got out, my friend belts out a semper fi and the old marine stops in his tracks and says, what conflict and my buddy says Vietnam, two purple hearts. He laughs and they engage in war stories. Then he turns to me and I melt as I know the fun is over. He immediately says, " I came to apologize, I went up and found right where you sat and where the turkey fell and you were perfectly legal". He admitted he was wrong and I said it was an honest mistake and I understood a lot of hunters had trespassed. Then he says, "I want to make it up to you and give you permission to hunt my property, and your buddies can hunt too". He stated old marines stuck together and my friend was blood. It turns out we hunted that property for many years, until he died and killed a bunch of birds off it. Sometimes things that look really bad actually turn out  good.

[The Lung]

Thanks for sharing your stories. I enjoy reading them.

[reflexl]

I just now read this thread. Love the stories. You are one of the few people that could understand my obsession with one distinctive bird. My current nemesis who I named Kevin is just such a bird.

I actually had my own "Old Softball Head". The day I killed him I worked him for hours. he was an ancient bird scarred from years of fighting. His spur caps were gone and the cores still measured 1 3/8". His beard had been nearly destroyed from all of the combat. He weighed 28lbs 7oz.

[eggshell]

That is truly a lifetime trophy reflexl. It's great you got to put your hands on him, I wish I'd had the chance to lift old softball head.

[eggshell]

Ok, I got one more in me

Long Gobble

I don't remember the years but I remember the bird and subsequent hunts for him. This particular year opening day found me on my usual ridge waiting for that first  gobble to pierce the morning air. Then, there it was, but what the heck was going on. Another gobble and I had to just chuckle. If a turkey could yodel this would be turkey yodeling. This gobbler would string out his gobble until you thought he was about to scream, and it kind of lost it's usual gobble too. He only gobbled a few times and shut up. I could hear another gobbler off on a side ridge and took off for him. I killed that gobbler and was done as our limit was one gobbler back then. I had a couple friends who hunted the next farm and one day one of them stops in at my work and tells me they been hunting this bird that floats between the two farms. He proceeds to tell me how odd this birds gobble is and I instantly know what he's talking about. We talk for a while and I agree to go along the next day. It was crazy listening to this bird gobble, but they had really educated him and he was a tough hunt. No one killed him that year.

The next spring found me scouting the same area and sure enough there was old long gobble screaming his song to the local hens. Again we all laid battle plans to kill him and it was a contest to see who would get him. Well, all the attention made him quite weary and after every strategy and scheme had failed season ended with him still screaming through the hillsides. In the meantime I had given up on long gobble and killed another gobbler.

Year three we were back at it and after ole long gobble again. I did not hunt that area the first couple days as I had conflicts at work and wanted to hunt close to work and get in early. On the fourth day of season I went to the farm, but decided to hunt up the valley from Long Gobbles turf and maybe later cruise by his area. I knew the other guys were hunting him. I struck a bird and he was being slow and troublesome to get in. Then I heard this barely audible sound from way down the drain, there was no mistake it was the banshee of the woods, ole Long Gobble. Every gobble was closer and I was starting to get excited. Ole Long Gobble finally made it all the way up to my level and engaged the other gobbler in a battle royal. I could see them and just watched in awe. Finally it was over and ole Long Gobble was the lone standing bird. I called to him and he screamed back that awful gobble. An hour later he was still in the same spot, but not moving. I decided to try a slate call on him and he broke and slooowwwllly began to strut toward me. Finally he was ~40 yards and decided that was close enough and there we sat in a stalemate for  minutes. Finally he came maybe another 5-10 yards and started the back and forth strutting again. After 10 more minutes of that I decide it was enough and confident I could kill him at that range. So I take a bead on him and squeeze off the shot and down he goes, but he's right back up just as fast and gets his wings and sails down the valley. I didn't even get off a second shot. I am kicking the dirt and cussing and just disgusted with myself and sick at the same time. I make the trek down to the last area I saw him glide into but a couple hrs of searching found nothing. I returned to the area the next morning and a few other days, but the banshee was never heard again. To this day it is one of the hunts that I am most ashamed to tell about, but it happened and I learned from it. I wish I could post a picture and say I never made the wrong choice to shoot, but I did. After going back and reconstructing the event, it turned out it wasn't 35 yards but more like 45 yards. I wrongly judged my distance. Back then I didn't have an extended turkey choke. I guess we need to tell the bad stories with the good.

[fishr64]

Thank you for the stories. Thank you for sharing!!

[Turkeybutt]

It's 3:53 AM and I couldn't sleep. I started reading your stories and I couldn't stop. Great Stories, thank you so much for sharing and making my day!

[eggshell]

made my day that a turkeybutt enjoyed them

[runngun]

Awesome stuff!!! I just finished reading every word of them!!! I really appreciate you taking the time and sharing these stories. It was like being right there with you.

Thanks, Have a good one and May God bless, Bo

Sent from my SM-S908U using Tapatalk

[TrackeySauresRex]

Thank you for sharing Eggshell! Amazing stories we have and love to tell. Please keep them coming. You jogged a couple of great old memories that  are very similar.

[NCSWAMPFOX]

great read and story! need some more

[eggshell]

Two to go please

Spring of 2012. My season had not  gone all that well and birds seemed to  have my number. A couple of them had frustrated me to no end. I had filled one tag pretty easily, but the second was becoming a task. My buddy from Kentucky called and we planned for him to come up and hunt. I had dueled with an old bird across from my house and I decided we'd buddy up on him.

We made our way up to the ridge top before daylight and sure enough a gobble greeted us at daylight, but it was a different bird. We set up and started to work on him, but he had somewhere else he wanted to be.We ended up being the caboose to his train and found ourselves constantly behind him. We decided to hit the field above us and quickly do an end around. As we made our way around the field, my buddy peeks over a hump and throws up his hand in a stop signal. I inch up and look and all we can see is a big fan and turkey butt 40 yards ahead of us and a group of hens walking away. We backed off and done a quick flank and set up. he would answer but kept on moving away. Finally he shut up and we gave up frustrated. My buddy even quipped, "I should just shot the SOB up in the field when we saw him". Our desire to only shoot a called in bird may have cost us. As we headed back to our starting point I heard a familiar course gobble come from across the field and on the adjacent ridge. I told my buddy that is my old nemesis right there, I can never get him to finish. My buddy volunteered to call and let me sit  yards forward, but he was my guest, so I insisted the opposite happen. We sat up and sure enough just like every other day the old bird lit it up and started the show. At 100 yards he stalled and I knew this was his game. So I backed off 60 yards and gave him a hard cut series and boom he cut me off. Then it all went silent. I sat wondering if he was coming or had left. Then there it was a booming gobble. It came from right where my buddy should be, but there was no shot. Then he gobbled again and I thought he had passed my buddy. Then I hear a very soft yelp and the next gobble is going back, then kabooom and a whahooo from my buddy. I walked up to see him holding the old boy and man was he a fine looking bird. I learned he had went on the blind side of my buddy around some multi flora rose bushes and he couldn't get a shot. So he risked a soft call and the old boy danced right to him. I felt good to settle a score. That old bird weighed 24 lbs, and had a long beard and spurs (I don't remember the measurements). We were happy and headed in satisfied. About halfway down the hill we sat on a log and rested while we relived the details. All of a sudden a gobbles floats across the valley. This is another old nemesis across the valley behind my house, an easy 3/4 mile trek. I tell my buddy we'll go to the truck and drive over to that ridge and see if he'll answer, but we only have 1.5 hrs to hunt. A half hour later we pull up on my woods road behind my house and I hoot. Sure enough a gobble floats back across the ravine. It will take 20 minutes to get set up but we go for it. Finally we are above him and set up with just about 35-40 minutes left in shooting time. So I hammer the call and this bird lights up the hillside. The next gobble he has cut the distance in half and I shut up. Then I see him coming up a log road, three steps and strutt. I am thinking, My God he's going to take too long getting here". I gamble and call a hard series and he breaks strutt and comes. I shoot him at 30 yards with 10 minutes left on the clock. We are both thrilled with the morning's events. This bird was also a old legend. I don't remember his stats either, but I am certain he was 21+ pounds with good hooks and spurs. what a day we had shared.

Here's a picture. I blacked out my buddy's face since I didn't have his permission to show him.

[GobbleNut]

Great story, Dana.  Those are the kinds of days we all remember!

[eggshell]

Easter, not an egg, Hunt

Way back in the early days, before I was a born again Christian, one of my buddies and I had a tradition of going out and calling in a gobbler on Easter morning. We were young, green and ignorant back then. It was our form of worship in the only temple we knew, the woods. Our season had never been in to hunt on easter, so scouting and playing with gobblers was our mission.

Many years later our season came in earlier than usual and Easter was later than normal. I still had a tag left come Easter morning. I debated whether to try to hunt that morning or not. All my family would be coming to dinner at our house, plus I had now come to my faith and desired to be in worship. I calculated it out that I could hunt a couple hours and still do all the rest of these activities. So I hatched a plan to park on the low side of my cousin's farm and walk up to a good bench and make my stand there for my short hunt. It provided a quick exit. Once on the bench I waited for daylight and hooted, nothing replied. A little later a fly down cackle got no response. Oh well, it was still good to get out and hunt. I had time, so I walked up to the hill top and listened. I could hear a distant gobble and now I had to calculate if I had time to go after him. I decided to give it a go. Down the top log road I hurried the half mile to the Gobbler. As I neared him I stopped and peeked over a rise. I could see him and two buddies 200 yards down the road. I could not  move. I inched over to a log and called and they answered and started strutting. They came maybe 50 yards and hung up. This was not going to work, but now I was pinned down and couldn't move without spooking the gobblers. I almost regretted making this gamble as time was running out.

Just when I had accepted defeat, the birds turned and strutted over the crown of the hill onto the side hill. I rolled the dice and run, as best as an old fart can, to the area they just left. As I got to a big White oak a gobble came up over the hillside. He was about 75 yards just over the crown. I sat down and got situated and made a soft sexy call and pre-aimed the gun. A gobble rolled right back and soon I heard the treasured spit and drum right at my gun barrel. There he is, coming right at me. I pick my spot and start my self coaching to take a good shot. All of a sudden he decided he should run in and I am not ready for that. He runs kind of to the side of me and I can't swing without too much movement. He stops at 20 yards behind a blowdown and starts strutting. For minutes upon minutes he just shows bits and pieces of himself and my internal alarm clock is screaming, "you got to get out of here and go to church with the family". Normally I woulld just wait, but today was different. So I pull a leg back to brace my weight and I start to rise up to shoot over the brush. PUUUTTT, I'm busted and the old boy turns to exit fast. Now he made a mistake and fast walked directly in a straight line away from me in the wide open and I simply put the bead on the back of his neck and folded him at 25 yards. Whoohoo, my first Easter Gobbler ever! Man no Easter egg or basket of candy was ever this sweet. I tagged him and rushed home just in time to load up for church. I propped the old bird up on the porch with fan displayed to welcome guest as they came for dinner. Certainly it was a blessed day.