The Baron
45 Cal.
- Joined
- May 10, 2004
- Messages
- 927
- Reaction score
- 15
Well... I finally got out turkey hunting again today. I hope that by sharing my story, it will help the frustration and nausea to subside. :barf:
Got out to a farm where I know there is one tom... and only one. Waited until I heard a gobble and was happy he was still in there. I moved close to where I figured he would be after flydown, on the edge of a field. I put out one hen decoy, because I tried a full strut decoy on this bird about a week ago and he didn't like it.
Anyway, about 5:30am I am thinking it is pretty light and maybe I should call since I hadn't heard a gobble in about 10 minutes. While I am still thinking, I hear a very soft hen yelp. Then another... and a hen appears from the woods not 30 yards to my left and walks right by my decoy. She purred softly on the way by and moved out a bit to the right and started feeding. I know that is good, because this time of year the tom will usually not be far from the ladies. Anyway, that hen makes some soft yelps and clucks and I am starting to get the feeling this is a great set up. A minute or two later I heard a gobble from my left. Then I see another hen coming acoss the corner of the field to my left, right to my decoy... and the big strutter is about 30 yards behind her. :hmm: The hen comes right to my decoy and starts agressive purrs. Then she jumps up and whacks my decoy and the big tom gobbled at that and he walks quickly right over, and well into my range. About 15 yards I am am already picturing him over my shoulder and thinking of the smile that will be on my face all day. I'm pretty sure it was right about that point in time where my brain stepped out for a drink or something, because I "pointed" the flintlock at the tom and pulled the trigger. When the smoke cleared, he jumped and flew. I jumped up and watched him fly about 100 yards and veer into the bush - no sign of a hit at all.
When I replay the sickening episode in my head, I realize I never really aimed. And, the sore spot on my bicep tells the tale of where the gun but was, but shouldn't have been. I just plain screwed up and I am not sure whether to laugh or throw up. Chances at toms don't come easy and I have already beaten myself up over this, and expect to do so several more times. I think I contracted a severe case of over confidence, thinking with my great skill that the tom was already dead on his feet. There's nothing like a good swift kick in the berries by Mr. Reality to straighten a fella out. :shake:
All kind words of encouragement are welcome.
Got out to a farm where I know there is one tom... and only one. Waited until I heard a gobble and was happy he was still in there. I moved close to where I figured he would be after flydown, on the edge of a field. I put out one hen decoy, because I tried a full strut decoy on this bird about a week ago and he didn't like it.
Anyway, about 5:30am I am thinking it is pretty light and maybe I should call since I hadn't heard a gobble in about 10 minutes. While I am still thinking, I hear a very soft hen yelp. Then another... and a hen appears from the woods not 30 yards to my left and walks right by my decoy. She purred softly on the way by and moved out a bit to the right and started feeding. I know that is good, because this time of year the tom will usually not be far from the ladies. Anyway, that hen makes some soft yelps and clucks and I am starting to get the feeling this is a great set up. A minute or two later I heard a gobble from my left. Then I see another hen coming acoss the corner of the field to my left, right to my decoy... and the big strutter is about 30 yards behind her. :hmm: The hen comes right to my decoy and starts agressive purrs. Then she jumps up and whacks my decoy and the big tom gobbled at that and he walks quickly right over, and well into my range. About 15 yards I am am already picturing him over my shoulder and thinking of the smile that will be on my face all day. I'm pretty sure it was right about that point in time where my brain stepped out for a drink or something, because I "pointed" the flintlock at the tom and pulled the trigger. When the smoke cleared, he jumped and flew. I jumped up and watched him fly about 100 yards and veer into the bush - no sign of a hit at all.
When I replay the sickening episode in my head, I realize I never really aimed. And, the sore spot on my bicep tells the tale of where the gun but was, but shouldn't have been. I just plain screwed up and I am not sure whether to laugh or throw up. Chances at toms don't come easy and I have already beaten myself up over this, and expect to do so several more times. I think I contracted a severe case of over confidence, thinking with my great skill that the tom was already dead on his feet. There's nothing like a good swift kick in the berries by Mr. Reality to straighten a fella out. :shake:
All kind words of encouragement are welcome.