What Got You Hooked?

[datrip]

Of course absolutely love to hear that gobble. But once that contact is made, it is the "game" that hooked me and continues to this day. Like Lovett Williams once said, "If you are serious about turkey hunting, then turkey hunt; if you want to relax, go fishing or sit in a deer stand."

[BigAL64]

Carrying on a conversation with the birds and talking them in to giving up. Just like waterfowl hunting.

[RutnNStrutn]

I started out as a duck hunter. My Dad took me when I was 15 and I fell in love with the sport. Then later I taught myself to deer and small game hunt. It wasn't until years later that I hooked up with some friends to turkey hunt. The first couple of seasons I didn't get a thing, other than some education. Then the 3rd season, I lucked into a jake. But what really got me hooked was my first gobbler. I first heard him shock gobbling to fire engine sirens. Being a firefighter, I knew this was a sign, and this bird was meant to be mine!! I called him in, and he came in strutting and gobbling!! Once I dropped the hammer on him, I was hooked, for life!!!!!
Here he is.

[WildTigerTrout]

 I was a big deer hunter, that is until I called in and killed my first spring gobbler all by myself. What a rush, I felt like I was 12 years old again. That was all it took. I still deer hunt but it has taken a back seat to chasing and trying to outwit those big old smart gobblers. I will hunt turkeys until the day they throw that shovelful of dirt in my face! LOL

[RutnNStrutn]

I still deer hunt but it has taken a back seat to chasing and trying to outwit those big old smart gobblers. I will hunt turkeys until the day they throw that shovelful of dirt in my face!

[Cut N Run]

I saw a gobbler one day when I was walking through the woods on my way back from arrowhead hunting a nearby field.  I told my friend about where it was roosted and he killed it the next day.  The way he described how intense the hunt was, I knew I had to give it a try. 

The next Spring (1982) I heard one gobble in a block of woods I had rights to hunt.  I made the mistake of asking my neighbor to come hunt with me.  I had read everything about turkeys that I could get my hands on in the off season and thought I had a good idea of how to play the game. I found an old Lynch box call at the flea market and got to sounding pretty good on it.  I met my neighbor on the porch of his house. He came out wearing one of those all brown cotton duck hunting suits that he wore squirrel and rabbit hunting, except the matching hat was faded to a light yellow with sweat stains around the band from him wearing at work.  Even in the dark, he looked like a big, tan lighthouse.  I was wearing VietNam army surplus field jacket & pants and I had a mesh half mask and some of those camo mesh gloves that are mosquito magnets.

We eased back to the ridge along a bend in the logging road and I set my neighbor near the bend where he was hidden in some downed trees. I got behind some big rocks at the end of the curve where I could see down the straight part of the logging road a little ways. About a half hour after it was light enough to see, a gobbler fired up from less than 200 yards away.  I felt my heart kick into a higher gear. I'd read not to call to gobblers on the roost, so I stayed quiet.  My neighbor was spinning his lighthouse head back and forth between me and the gobbler, then started calling my name above a loud whisper for me to call to that gobbler, like somehow, I hadn't heard the bird.  I put my hand up with my palm facing my neighbor for him to stop making noise.  He may not have been able to see my hand for the mesh gloves and mosquitoes covering it.  Again, I heard "JIM...JIM...call to him." I put an index finger up against my lips to signal my neighbor to be quiet. I was kind of surprised my neighbor couldn't see my eyes glaring back at him.  The gobbler sounded off again and I heard "Jim" coming from the lighthouse.  I already knew that inviting my neighbor was a bad idea, yet was still hopeful we might get to take on that gobbler.

I heard him fly down and knew the gobbler was fairly close to us, even though we couldn't see him yet.  I made an awful sounding squawk on the box call, but got a thunderous gobble back from the Tom.  I'd also read not to call to turkeys too much, especially if he was already close.  My neighbor, however, hadn't read that book..."JIM...JIM...answer him."  Just then, I saw the gobbler step out of the woods onto the logging road into the only patch of sunlight filtering through the canopy.  He blew up into full strut as the sun reflected a brilliant iridescent glow around him. He was heading our way and I was totally hooked on gobblers.

Without moving, I cut my eyes towards my neighbor's position.  His head was swiveling back and forth, I'm sure he was wondering why I wasn't calling.  Just then, the gobbler let loose with another thunderous gobble and my neighbor realized how close the bird was getting. That didn't stop from moving his head around though.  Now, he was craning his neck to get a better look at the oncoming turkey.  If he'd realized how close the gobbler was getting to him, my neighbor could have taken a shot as soon as the turkey walked past the end of the downed logs.  Instead, he was so intent on seeing the bird, he failed to get into shooting position.  I already had my gun up on the rock in front of me and was prepared to shoot as soon as the gobbler got closer, to hell with my neighbor. I remember the blood pounding in my ears as I prepared to drop the hammer.  Instantly, the gobbler threw periscope up and took off in a sprint back the direction he'd started, letting out two loud, sharp putts as he fled faster than any bird I'd ever seen move through the woods.  My heart sank. So close but so far away.  I looked towards my neighbor's swiveling lighthouse head and wondered what might have happened if I'd hunted alone instead.  That was the last time I invited my neighbor along hunting with me and the start of my addiction to hunting turkeys.

It took me a few more years to kill my first gobbler, but I called up birds for three other friends to take before I tagged my first.  I started going to State Parks to listen and practice calling turkeys and to learn what they would and wouldn't tolerate. My first turkey hunt was a long time ago, but the sight of that magnificent gobbler strutting in the morning light on a warm, damp spring morning will always stay with me...so will the sound of those putts.

Jim

[birdyhunter]

My very first solo hunt. Central NC on opening day and I had blanked in the morning. Drove to a different property around 10:30 and hit the woods at 11with the plan of just getting to an area I knew had turkeys and trying to "deer hunt" them. Wasn't much of a caller then (and im still not!) And all I had was a box call. Walked in about 300 yards to a creek bottom and just for kicks I took out that old box call. Halfway through my first calling sequence I got cut off by a bird and he was CLOSE. Sat down against the closest tree and called once more and he had already closed the distance considerably. Got my gun up just in time to hear him drumming and strutting and then he walked out at 30 yards and at 11:20 he went home to meet Jesus. The good lord gave that bird as a gift and I have been totally in love ever since.

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[surehuntsalot]

It was the first gobble that I heard,and then the first "game of tag" that we played and I lost.
Been chasing them ever since.

[n2deer]

What got me hooked was the constant butt whippings I got from them in the beginning. It took me a few years to figure them out a little better. I vowed to not let them "beat" me in the end.

[Dan Mallia]

The gobble. Plain and simple. 

[Gooserbat]

I'll just copy and past this little script from my website.

"I was seven years old the first time I went turkey hunting with Dad. It was in Pushmataha WMA in Southeastern Oklahoma. I can still remember the big pines and how Dad explained that "they like to gobble at a hoot owl". I remember watching in the half light as he put an old PS Olt owl hooter to his lips and blew the ol' familiar question. "Who cooks for you, who cooks for us too?" Then somewhere in the distance a turkey gobbled, and then another. Right then and there a seven year old boy became a turkey hunter."