Our Best Career Birds and memories

[tal]

 I had worked a bird for a couple of days on public ground. I set up the next day a few yards off the top of a ridge and the bird came in behind me, I was stuck and couldn't move. He spent around 30 minutes looking around for the hen, lots of gobbler yelps and clucks but offering no shot. He moved off and I called again. He finally sounded off and he had worked his way around in front of me but just on the other side of that ridge. I called again and he stepped up to the top of the ridge looking long and hard. He stepped behind a tree and I brought the gun up.
 I waited a long couple of minutes and began thinking he had left. I was deciding if I should try to move up quietly or sit still. Finally I spotted the edge of a tail fan of a bird in strut. He began strutting in a tight circle and I realized he was in a shaft of sunlight and he was using it to show himself to the best advantage like an actor on a stage. He was close enough to kill but I just didn't want to shoot a bird in strut and ruining the meat. He finally stood tall and I fired. 22 steps, 1 3/8" spurs, and it was my birthday.

[Happy]

I don't know if I could pick one. Have to say that the Tom I killed with my grandad and both of my boys' first gobblers would be my top three.

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[Neill_Prater]

They all are memorable, some in a good way, some in a bad way, but one I'll always remember was almost 30 years ago.

Kansas opens on Wednesday each year, before the Missouri opener, which also happened to be my day off from the milk route for several years. My hunting area in Kansas was about a 3 hour drive from my home at the time. After working Monday and Tuesday, getting up probably about 2:00 AM each day, I get up about the same time and make the drive opening morning in order to arrive before sunrise.

I get set up on a flock of birds on the roost, but as so often happens, when they hit the ground, the hens went the other way and the tom followed. The warm sun was filtering through the canopy and I was so sleepy I lay on my side behind a log in front of me and dozed off.

Some time later, a crunching sound woke me up, and I peaked over the log only to see a gobbler maybe 25 ft away. I knew I would likely spook the bird if I attempted to retrieve my gun and try to get off a shot, so I let him walk when he eventually got tired of looking for the now non existent hen.

I spent the balance of the day hunting some other spots with no success. A couple of hours before sundown, I returned to the area and set up hoping to intercept the gobbler returning to the roost area. Sure enough, maybe 30 minutes before sundown, which ain't early even in mid April Kansas, I spotted him walking through the woods, and a couple of soft calls brought him within gun range.

By the time I got to the Jeep and cleaned the bird, it was full on dark. As best as I can recall, I got home at close to 11:00 PM, which was fine except I had to get up at 2:00 AM to go to work the next morning. Oh the foolish things we will do to kill a turkey! Not a year goes by when I get sleepy hunting, that I don't recall the hunt when I should have stayed awake.

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[Dtrkyman]

The first one of course, but mine had a bit more going on than just the turkey hunt!!!

Had been dating a gal for less than a year, hunted 4 days with a friend camping and he had to leave, got back home and called this gal and asked if she wanted to drive a few hours and go camp then turkey hunt in the morning. To my surprise and delight she obliged.

Long story short we heard birds gobbling from the tent in the morning getting dressed and I was able to kill one pretty quick, spent the next couple days camping and exploring local towns, fast forward 34 years and she is my wife of 21 years!

[WV Flopper]

I have read this thread several times. I enjoy reading the experiences of others, thank you.

Mine, I remember them all. Some of the Kamikaze that land at your feet aren't real note worthy. After that, they are all trophies!

I do have a few that stand out. Mostly out of state hunts that required extra effort from me.

Enjoy yourself. Enjoy the outdoors. Enjoy the gobbler that has been given to us to harvest and feed us.

Everyone of them is a trophy!

My favorite to date, IDK. I love it every time I pull the trigger, even when I miss (A while after) I find joy in it.

I am not quite ready for this season to begin but it won't be much longer I will be fully engaged in what I need to do.

Turkeys will die and I will kill them.

[CAPTJJ]

Got a later start than many on here due to no turkeys in my area until recently, now they are doing well. My best hunt was May 8, 2017, here's the recap:

Day 8 of the NY season and I hadn't been able to hunt in 4 days between rain and work. Also didn't get out to roost the night before and was tired from working all weekend, so I didn't set my alarm, figured I would head out when I woke up. Well, I was up at first light coming through the windows, 5:08 am. Got my stuff together and got dressed, out the door by 5:20. Nothing roosted so I decided to try calling at a bunch of spots looking for a hot tom, parked at the first spot at 5:25. Had been good there in the past but hadn't heard a bird there yet this year, but they like to roost on this "knob". Walked up the trail past the knob calling, tried a couple yelps, then a cutt/yelp and one gobbled on the other side of the knob where they roost. Quickly got back to my truck for my blind, decoys and bow/arrows. Made a quick yelp and he answered, he was coming.

Back down the trail around the knob, then off to a small clearing in the woods to set up. Set out the decoys and made another yelp and he answered but sounded like he headed toward my truck where I had just yelped. Now he was coming around the knob right to me, could hear him drumming... and I don't even have the blind set up. Good thing I have set it up hundreds of times, quickly got it out of the pack and popped out the sides. Big problem, the top won't stay up? I need the peak up so I have room to the top limb of my recurve. More drumming, getting close now and I can see him headed my way in full strut. What to do?

Quickly figured out that if I got all the way to the right, I could cant the bow and get a shot off, luckily I had the jake decoy positioned right there ahead. Moved my stuff to the front and out of the way, got my facemask, gloves, and shooting tab on, then knocked an arrow. He came from my right circled around behind the jake, then turned broadside, still strutting, and went to face the "intruder" with the hen. I drew, then released and the arrow found its mark through the wing, he went about 10 feet and flopped, lots of blood, 5:35 am. Hadn't even been awake for a half hour.



A house has been built on this exact spot since, everyone wants that view from the mountain, the turkeys are still around.

[ScottTaulbee]

My best turkey memory of my career is my son's first last season. It was the second (and last) day of the KY youth season. We had hunted the morning before with no luck and on this morning my son, Gunnar, and his older sister Adalynn both went. Adalynn isn't big on shooting animals but loves the outdoors and wanted to be her brother's cheer leader. We got there about 30 minutes before daylight and as we were putting stuff in the and I was setting the decoys for him, the woods came alive!. We had 4 gobblers on our left gobbling, 3 gobblers to our right gobbling and one behind us. I waited up until about fly down time and gave a few soft yelps. They all went crazy, and continued to gobble for the next hour. None would come check us out. A gobbler to our right got cranked up and every one of the others stopped. Gunnar said he was ready to go home, he was cold due to it being around 35 degrees that morning. I told him " it's your hunt, if you want to leave we will but I've done this a long time and I'm 99% sure that we can kill that turkey if you want to try it." He told me he wanted to try and I told him "we gotta ditch these decoys and blind to kill this one". He was fine with that and Adalynn decided to stay in the blind. We followed the shallow creek about 150 yards to our right and from my coursing, he was across the creek. I carried him across and we got set up and this gobbler was hot!. But as he kept gobbling closer I realized that he was behind us!. Gunnar and me were behind a blown down log and I spun around with him in my lap and helped him hold his gun in the weird angle we were in. No sooner than we got spun around I saw his feathers shining walking across the field across the creek, maybe 50 yards out. He gets to about 30 or 35 yards, facing us head on and lets out a ground shaking gobble!. I could feel Gunnar's heart beating against me and he had the same rapid breath as me. We had our back and forth of "can you see him, can you see his head, do you have the green circle on his head?" And while this was happening the gobbler turned and done the old wing flip. I told him "it's now or never buddy, he's about to leave" and I cutt hard at him. The gobbler turned back broadside and I got out "do you see..." and Boom!. The gobbler went down and as I was carrying on with back slaps and telling him good job the gobbler hopped up and took off running. We got up and ran up there and I could see him in a bull doze pile. He seen us too and he jumped up and took to the air and made it back across the creek where we just came from before falling. Gunnar gave him a finishing shot and his first turkey was in the bag!. He wound up shooting part of the beard and breaking a wing bone on the first shot. The beard ended up being a touch over 7" with what was left, one spur was about 1.5", the other was broken and about 1" and it weighed 25 pounds 13 ounces. A true bird of a lifetime. Turkey hunting is all he wants to do and he wants a turkey hunting themed birthday party next month. He asked for turkey calls, a camo shotgun, a turkey vest and some other hunting things!. It's easily the best memory I've made and I gained a turkey hunting partner for life!. And I sent the wing bones to Mr. Tony Ezolt to preserve the memory of that gobbler for him every time he goes hunting.


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[Dougas]

My "bests" are all Oregon Rios.
1) Heaviest; 22.6#
2) Longest spur; 1 1/2"
3) Longest beard; 10 1/4"
4) Multiple beaded toms; 4
5) Plumage; 4 smoke gray toms and 2 that have some erythristic characteristics

Favorite hunt; My grandsons first turkey and my buddy Paul's first turkey.

Favorite solo hunt; I was late to the game. Sunrise was a little before 6. I got there at 7:30. The fly down happens around 6:30.
The areas is a ranch that is 300 yards wide and two miles long, split in half by a gravel driveway to two barns. One barn for the lower half (cattle pasture) and one barn for the upper half, which is an oak savanna with many big fir trees surrounding it and interspersed throughout.
No turkeys on the entire place, except one gobbling his head off in the upper field. Knowing fly down had already happened, I search for the source of the gobbling. Any turkey on the ground would be visible from one angle or another and I could not find it. It finally dawned on me that it was still up in the tree. He would gobble every 3 to 5 minutes. I set up about 180 yards from him at the edge of the timber on the property line, while he was perched in a big full foliage oak. I gave him every call made by a hen and he ignored it.
I backed out, went back to the truck, got my Montana turkey cloth decoy thing and went back and set up. This time, every time he would gobble, I would cut him off with a gobble of my own, he would cut my gobble off with his own. I let him set the pace and repeat until it got to be 9:30. I decided I had waited long enough and needed to make something happen.
Every now and then after that, I would gobble first. He would cut me off and I would cut him off. This went on for a while. I took the decoy and belly crawled with it out to the edge of the timber just in sight of the tree. Belly crawled back into the timber and set up at the edge of the timber 15 yards closer to the turky than the decoy.
The tom would hve to land and go down into a little swale and when he got up to my decoy he would pop up over the little hump at about 15 yards.
I started instigating every gobble exchange. I cut him off quickly when he would respond and then cut him off again.
It was a little after 10:00 when he finally flew down, landing about 75 yards in front of me and headed right toward me.
He continued to gobble and when I lost sight of him when he went down into the swale, I kept tabs on him through gobbling.
At 12 yards, his head popped up in front of me and that was that for him. He was a two year old with average beard and spurs, but his odd behavior and the chance to use gobbles to bring him in made it my favorite hunt.

[Treerooster]

There have been a LOT of memorable hunts for me over the years. The gobblers that come in on a string aren't as memorable as the ones that don't go so easy (still fun & exciting tho). Birds I've worked for over and hour...Hens that are almost next to me with the gobbler still out of shooting position. The ones that end up behind me...and CLOSE! I don't always win those either, but they are still memorable.

There is one that really stands out for me tho. The DNR was doing a study in the area I started turkey hunting in. They banded birds in 2008, 09, and 10. I REALLY wanted to get a banded tom. Over the years I also helped several guys get there turkeys and 4 of them killed banded birds, but not me. By 2015 by figured I was out of luck...the youngest turkey would be 6 years old! What were the odds of a turkey living that long and then me getting that particular one.

I had 2 tags for the area and my first was good on private land. Called in a tom from about 300 yards. Could see him almost the whole way and he was banded! got ahold of the biologist and the tom was 6 years old.

My 2nd tag was good on public and it was raining for days. Nearby river had flooded and I had 2 days left to hunt. On a cold, rainy, dreary evening I went roosting. No gobbling, as expected, but I saw a hen up in a tree. Decided I would set up in the morning 100 yards from her. Got there in the dark as the area was very open. Still thick clouds but at least it had quit raining. As it got light a bird gobbled and I about jumped out of my skin. He was close! Couldn't figure out where he was until it got a little lighter. He was only 60 yards away and low in a tree right against the trunk. He was on my side of the tree so all I had to do was call him down to that side and he would be in range. That's what I did and shot him at 30 yards soon after his feet hit then ground.

He was BANDED!!! This tom was 7 years old. The pics are the 7 year old and in the close up you can see the wear on the band from rubbing on his spur.

[Turkeyman]

He may not be the "best" bird I've ever gotten but certainly very memorable. The first year I turkey hunted, many years ago, I had already gotten a good bird in PA which is a story in itself being a total rookie. I'm in NY and, at season's end, Memorial Day weekend, was heading to PA to visit my parents with wife and young kids. There was a bird I had tried to bag several times already in NY southern tier and I told my wife...we're going to leave early because I want to turkey hunt one last time. So we got there at zero dark thirty and, with her and the kids napping in the car, off I went. He was where I expected him to be and was gobbling well. This time he came in quite easily and what made this so memorable was his approach. He was pirouetting through the mayapples in bright sunlight quite a ways to the gun. That is still the most beautiful scene in my memory. I don't think I've seen a bird pirouette since.

[appalachianassassin]

Red color phase I killed on the day of my 10th anniversary and was also Easter Sunday

[Tom007]

My fist turkey is the greatest memory I have from the turkey woods. It was PA in the mid 80's on opening day. This gobbler sounded off at daybreak about 80 yards away. A few clucks, the sound of wings beating and there he was, strutting at 30 yards. He tucked behind a big tree, I pointed my Remington 1100 with a fixed full choke and a #4 Duck Pheasant high brass load. He flopped. I sat and looked at him for an hour not believing what I just accomplished. He was 23 pounds with a 9 inch beard. This was the greatest walk out of the woods back to my truck that I can remember. I still wish I had that old camo hat....

[GobbleNut]

My fist turkey is the greatest memory I have from the turkey woods. It was PA in the mid 80's on opening day. This gobbler sounded off at daybreak about 80 yards away. A few clucks, the sound of wings beating and there he was, strutting at 30 yards. He tucked behind a big tree, I pointed my Remington 1100 with a fixed full choke and a #4 Duck Pheasant high brass load. He flopped. I sat and looked at him for an hour not believing what I just accomplished. He was 23 pounds with a 9 inch beard. This was the greatest walk out of the woods back to my truck that I can remember. I still wish I had that old camo hat....

Sounds pretty much like my most memorable hunt, as well. It took place in 1975 several miles into the Gila Wilderness in New Mexico. I had been hunting spring gobblers for several years without any remote success in calling in a gobbler and was beginning to believe it was a fictional goal.

It was the last day of the season. I woke up to a howling wind and almost decided to head home, but being the stubborn sort I was at the age of twenty-four, I took off in the dark down a pine-covered ridge towards an area that I knew held turkeys. Because of the wind, I heard nothing at daybreak but continued walking into the wilderness towards a spring I knew of in the bottom of a deep canyon.

Two hours later, arriving at the spring, I yelped loudly on my old Roger Latham box call and miraculously got a faint, distant response from several hundred yards on the ridge above me. The gobbler worked his way down towards me and eventually came strutting into the clearing I was set up on.  To say I was both shocked and mesmerized by the entire affair would be an understatement.

He strutted back and forth for what seemed like an eternity, just out of range of my Model 12, 20 gauge but eventually inched closer and closer until I was certain I could kill him. The level of excitement and satisfaction I felt as I sat and admired that old gobbler glistening in the morning sunlight has never dissipated from my memory...even after almost fifty years.

Like many here, I suspect, that first gobbler began the journey I have had as a turkey hunter...and I have never regretted a single moment of it. I'm pretty certain most of us feel the same way.

[Tom007]

My fist turkey is the greatest memory I have from the turkey woods. It was PA in the mid 80's on opening day. This gobbler sounded off at daybreak about 80 yards away. A few clucks, the sound of wings beating and there he was, strutting at 30 yards. He tucked behind a big tree, I pointed my Remington 1100 with a fixed full choke and a #4 Duck Pheasant high brass load. He flopped. I sat and looked at him for an hour not believing what I just accomplished. He was 23 pounds with a 9 inch beard. This was the greatest walk out of the woods back to my truck that I can remember. I still wish I had that old camo hat....

Sounds pretty much like my most memorable hunt, as well. It took place in 1975 several miles into the Gila Wilderness in New Mexico. I had been hunting spring gobblers for several years without any remote success in calling in a gobbler and was beginning to believe it was a fictional goal.

It was the last day of the season. I woke up to a howling wind and almost decided to head home, but being the stubborn sort I was at the age of twenty-four, I took off in the dark down a pine-covered ridge towards an area that I knew held turkeys. Because of the wind, I heard nothing at daybreak but continued walking into the wilderness towards a spring I knew of in the bottom of a deep canyon.

Two hours later, arriving at the spring, I yelped loudly on my old Roger Latham box call and miraculously got a faint, distant response from several hundred yards on the ridge above me. The gobbler worked his way down towards me and eventually came strutting into the clearing I was set up on.  To say I was both shocked and mesmerized by the entire affair would be an understatement.

He strutted back and forth for what seemed like an eternity, just out of range of my Model 12, 20 gauge but eventually inched closer and closer until I was certain I could kill him. The level of excitement and satisfaction I felt as I sat and admired that old gobbler glistening in the morning sunlight has never dissipated from my memory...even after almost fifty years.

Like many here, I suspect, that first gobbler began the journey I have had as a turkey hunter...and I have never regretted a single moment of it. I'm pretty certain most of us feel the same way.

Wow, great story! Hope you still use that model 12 20 gauge. That's a great memory for sure! Thx for sharing...

[Yoder409]

So many GREAT stories !!!

I seriously, couldn't pick a "best memory".  There have been SO MANY memorable hunts..... kids' first birds.... wife's first bird..... Dad's first bird..... tough birds....big birds..... cool, old guns used.... hunts in beautiful and/or far away places....

Call ahead and stop in and we'll kill an entire day and a good bottle of bourbon telling ALL the stories.