First bird

[MK M GOBL]

"My" first bird I never pulled the trigger on, a buddy and I drew tags together for that season and I called the bird in for him! Guess I started my roots in this right from the start. #2 bird I called in for my Dad (Buddy & I did not draw tags) and my actual first bird came in my third year of turkey hunting,

MK M GOBL

[silvestris]

Yessir I'm from Sheridan lol born and raised! If you're from Sheridan everybody knows everybody! What class did you graduate in?

I was 10 years old in 2004. Dad took me. I was using a 870 youth model with Winchester supreme's. Heard him gobble at daylight but was henned up till 9:30. It was windy and dad used a "world champion" Lynch box call and a Quaker boy Diaphram. To call him and 2 jakes in. He came in behind the jakes and I could take you to the exact pine tree in Grant county Ar. Started a love I'll never be able to shake.

Good look in' kid for an Arkansas boy.  Nice gobbler too.  If you are from Sheridan, do you know Rick Baldwins?  If so, tell him you conversed with a guy who said he had the sweetest car on campus.

From England.  Graduated from the UofA with Rick.

[RutnNStrutn]

First bird was a jake. Not much to the story. Public land, another hunter spooked him over towards me, he saw my deke and ran to it. I shot him.



My first gobbler, now that was a story!! He came down a firebreak shock gobbling to a fire engine's sirens and air horns. Being a firefighter , I knew I was destined to kill him. After the truck got out of range, I called to him and he gobbled. Not knowing any better at that early stage of my turkey hunting career, I kept calling, but he kept coming in on a string, gobbling the whole way. It's better to be lucky than good sometimes!!
Finally I spotted the white crown on his head bobbing down the trail! I called to him again, he gobbled and stepped off of the trail into the little hammock my decoys were set up in. He strutted back and forth, but was at the edge of the range my gun could shoot back then. I was tempted, but didn't want to wound or lose him. I clucked at him and gave a couple of soft yelps, and he slowly eased his way in. It seemed like an eternity, but he was finally standing next to my hen dekes, 20 yards away. I fired and he was mine!!!
The best part was, my buddies were supposed to meet me right near the hammock on the firebreak, at 10:00. They got there a few minutes early, and were standing there talking softly when I shot. They feared they had spooked my bird and I had missed, so they took off running all the way to the trucks. When I got back, they acted like they had been at the trucks all along. Once they saw I had my gobbler, they told me the true story.

My first gobbler. Public land Osceola, 18 pounds, 8" beard and 3/4" spurs. At that moment I became an official turkey hunting addict!!!

[Happy]

I have already told about my first bird so I will tell about my second which also was my first adult tom.
I  think the year was 2003 and I was hunting the same farm I had taken my jake on the previous year. It was only a small farm and birds didn't typically roost there but  would move thrugh the property on a regular basis. I stuck out that morning and was tired of sitting with nothing going on so I started walking the perimeter of the property calling. I hadn't made it a hundred yards when I had a tom fire back and he was close! Just out of sight over the ridge on the next property. I set down immediately and got ready. I gave another set of calls and got an immediate reply so I stayed put. For the next half hour it was back and forth with neither of us budging and I was getting impatient. I got up and started to sneak to the ridge top to see if I could get a peak down the other side and see why he was hung up. I got to the fence line and looked down the other hillside. Nothing. Giving some quick yelps I heard a fierce gobble not 75 yards away. My heart jumped and then I heard the laughter. It was my girlfriend at the times brother. He was sitting in his deer tower just bellowing with laughter. He had a gobble shaker and was having the time of his life screwing with me. He owned the property next door and knew i was in there hunting so he couldn't pass up the opportunity. After he came down and we had our laugh I decided to hit the other end of the farm. Sneaking along I got within view of the barbed wire fence that marked the end of the farm. I let out a set of yelps that were immediately followed by a gobble in the distance.  I immediately thought I was being screwed with and just stood their thinking of how I was going to get even.
A few minutes later a crow let loose and two gobbles responded not 100 yards in front of me! Well I hit the dirt. Belly first and it the gun up. Three toms came into view on a dead run. Slipping under the fence the came forward a bit more and stopped looking for the hen. At about 25 yards I let er rip and was up and running to grab my first longbeard. He was still flopping when I grabbed him and I learned why you don't grab a flopping tom by the leg. He got me good across the palm. I didn't care though and my first stop on my way home was to you know who's house to rub it in a little bit.

Sent from my SM-G800R4 using Tapatalk

[Cut N Run]

I started turkey hunting in 1982, though the first gobbler I killed was a few years later than that.  I made the mistake of inviting my neighbor along on my first ever turkey hunt. He was  mostly a rabbit hunter and didn't quite get the concept of sitting still.  My plan was to hunt the woods down the road owned by a friend where I deer hunted. I heard a gobbler in there the morning before and backed out.  Figuring it may be easier to tag team the gobbler, I stopped by my neighbor's house to see if he was up for the pursuit.  We agreed to meet the next morning with enough time to hike the mile in to the old logging road to get set up before it got light.

I met my neighbor on his back porch in the dark.  I was wearing military surplus camo with one of those next to useless camo mesh face masks that was essentially camouflage gauze with a thin elastic band at the top to fit under a hatband.  The matching gloves were most likely designed by a mosquito, because they could feed right through it without even slowing down.  My neighbor was dressed in the only hunting clothes he owned, those brown canvas duck pants with the nylon brush buster lower leg and thigh protectors, plus a matching jacket and hat. Well, the hat matched at one time, but that was a long time before.  He'd been wearing that jones style cap for work and it was sun faded badly enough that it almost glowed in the dark.

We eased down the logging road to a rock outcrop with a few downed logs beside it.  I set my neighbor up in the bend in the road where he would have more cover and I set up in the rocks where I could see down the road a little ways. A lot longer past daylight than I imagined it would happen, a gobbler fired up from his roost down the logging road less than 200 yards away.  Not knowing what to do, I cranked up the old Lynch box call I owned and made a horrible squawking noise on it.  The gobbler fired back immediately from the limb and I answered back right away.  He gobbled again, but this time I remembered reading something that said not to call back too much, so I shut up.  The gobbler hollered from the limb some more, but I stayed quiet.  Meanwhile, I could hear my name being called by my neighbor for me to keep calling.  Every gobble was followed with;  "JIM"..."JIM"  call him!! in louder than a whisper, like somehow I couldn't hear the gobbling.  I looked over towards the logs and saw the almost neon faded cap rotating back & forth like a lighthouse beacon. I held my mesh gloved hand up with my palm facing my neighbor, like a stop motion.  He kept on..."JIM!" "Jim" "Call TO HIM!" 

I heard wingbeats and realized the gobbler was on the ground.  Before long, I saw this huge black blob moving towards us down the logging road.  I could hear him spitting & drumming, but I had no idea what in the world was going on.  The gobbler was still out of sight of my neighbor, the lighthouse, because of where the guy happened to be set up.  The gobbler let out a booming gobble and the lighthouse swung around to look up the road.  About then, the gobbler stepped into a beam of sunlight, puffed into full strut, and his colors exploded in shimmering iridescence. I was absolutely hooked on turkey hunting.  I had my Ithaca 37R up and resting on the rock in front of me.  The gobbler wasn't in range and he couldn't quite see the lighthouse yet either.  A few steps closer and all off a sudden the gobbler dashed off faster than I knew anything could move through the woods PUTTing loudly as he went.  "Call Him BACK!"

That was the last time I took my neighbor hunting.  After that, I did get access to some nice land, but I had to call for others before I killed my first.  By calling only, it made me sit back and pay close attention to what turkeys would tolerate and what they wouldn't.

My first bird was a text book hunt on a two year old gobbler that ran right to the gun, straight off the roost.  It was the easiest hunt I've ever had.

Jim

[bghunter777]

I remember it like it was yesterday. It was a light steady rain on that fateful morning 18 years ago. A young 12 year old boy set out with his father having the excitment one would expect from any boy on one of his first hunts. The scene was set we had our decoys out overlooking a green field that was a known turkey hang out. Shortly after first light a mature tom appeared on the far side of the field with a few hens after closing the distance from 150 to 50 yards over the course of 30 min I sat with sure anticipation that this would be my first turkey. The gobbler past just out of range never breaking inside that 50 yard mark.

Left with dissappointment after the turkey exited. This dissapointment would be short lived as a flock of about 6 Hens and Large jakes appeared in the field at 100 yards. After a few magical calling sequences by my father and mentor these birds slowly worked into range. Fighting what seemed like an impossible task to get the front bead of my 870 Express on the lead Jake. I waited for the swinging front end of the gun to pass by the gobblers head and pulled the trigger. BOOOOM the shot broke the morning peace and the moments that followed are memories that will live etched into my memory until the day I die and live in so many fellow hunters. The 17 lb Jake rolled over wings flapping my father and I took off after the down bird. A short battle later I had my first gobbler.

Looking back on this day and remembering the countless times this has played over some continue to be with my father some alone I reflect on the pursuit of spring turkeys  and thank God we live in a place with the freedom to pursue these wild birds. As the years pass and my childhood has turned into a profesional world I still constantly am reminded times like described earlier are what really matter in life. As I write this today I booked my flight from Houston Texas back to Western Pa to hopefully live out this scenario one more time with my father this April.

[THattaway]

First and second from public land here in SC on an evening hunt. Briefly, called several jakes and killed one at 20 yards. Hunted on and about two hours later struck up two toms that came in with a hen running and clucking along behind them to keep up. Shot the lead tom. Was extremely proud of myself. Had called in a couple of turkeys prior to that time but something always seemed to go wrong, till that day. I show this one anytime I get the chance. 1986

[Bowguy]

Great memories guys

[BB30]

I killed my first bird on my second hunt when I was 8. One of my dad's good friends took me in Scooba, Ms. Pretty textbook hunt looking back. We were situated in a branch of hardwoods along a creek. bird flew down about 80 yards from us and came right in putting on a show. He acted like a 2 year old but is still one of my best birds to date. He had an 11 1/2" beard and 1 3/8" spurs. I was instantly hooked. That was 19 years ago.

I managed to luck into my first one I called up by myself at 13 as I had blown who knows how many opportunities from not being able to sit still and be patient. I almost felt bad how I managed to kill it as I got to a fork in the road and eased around and saw a strutter heading the other way so I plopped down purred and clucked and he turned right around and came straight to me. At the time I don't think I have ever been prouder than toting that bird back to the camp in Scooba after a couple years of zero luck unless I was hunting with my dad or one of the older men at camp.