I don't know how it's been in the rest of the country, but Missouri's turkey season has been rough. We've had two very poor hatches in a row which meant we had a lower number of toms to play with. And then the weather has been just too dang cold to get the birds fired up. Up until this last week, it looked more like I was hunting in the dead of winter instead of spring. There was absolutely no cover to speak of and the gobblers would sound off on the roost, but only halfheartedly and not very much.
Despite the obstacles, I persevered because that's what you do. I spent the last weekend of our season down on the family farm in the Ozarks with my dad. He had killed a nice bird the week before; in his front yard with no camo or call, but that is another story for another time. I woke up early Saturday morning, as I always do during turkey season, full of optimism that today would be THE day that I would have success. Usually that optimism is beaten out of me by 10 am or so but it always comes back the next day.
I drove over to the family graveyard, on the east side of our middle hay field, and stepped out of the truck at 5:15 am. It's as good a place to listen as any and it puts me about halfway between the furthest points of the farm. The ridge to the east always has birds on it but it is quite brushy and can be hard to hunt. At this stage in the game, though, I didn't care where the turkeys were located; I just wanted to play with some.
At 5:20, a gobbler sounded off on one of the ridges to the west of me. Dad normally drives to the top of one of those ridges to listen but I knew he hadn't left the house yet and I thought this bird was further west and south of where he would be. After the tom gobbled three more times, and he was the only one talking, I decided to climb up after him to get a better idea of where he was located.
I waded the creek that separates the west edge of our fields from the woods on that side and started the long ascent to the ridge top. It is steep as a horse's face but quiet walking as there is an old logging road that goes up that side. I figured the bird was roosted up in Woodland Holler, which would make him almost inaccessible, but he was the only game in town and I had showed up to hunt. I kicked a few deer out of the way as I started climbing the road and when the longbeard sounded off again I pinpointed his location as being on the other side of Beetree Holler opposite of me. That was good because it meant I could work him but it was bad because he was roosted about 100 yards from where Dad normally walks in and listens. I still hadn't heard Dad leave the house so I hoped I would have time to get 'er done before he showed up and ruined the party.
By now, it was getting pretty light out and I needing to find a setup spot fast before Ole Tom spotted me across the sparsely leafed out holler. About 75 yards from the ridge top, I found a suitable black oak to make my stand. It was about 20 yards off the skid trail to the south and just a little lower in elevation. I knew the bird would walk around the head of the holler when he came and, with this setup, he wouldn't be able to see me until he popped into the open. I quickly got out my calls, priming flask, and implements of the trade, and got ready. The bird was still roosted and gobbling which gave me a little more time. I hadn't called to him yet but the time was fast approaching.
The first problem I encountered before completely settling in was with my glasses. It was quite humid out and I was heated up due to the exertion of my ascent and my glasses kept fogging up. I finally just took them off and said the heck with it. At the distance I was shooting, I didn't think I'd need them. Fortunately, a little breeze came up at that time and took care of the problem. With my eyeware on, I made my first call.
The tom answered immediately and after a couple of back-and-forths, he flew down and started heading my way. I put powder in the pan, cocked the hammer back, and fervently hoped that this would work out in my favor. I also hoped that Dad would stay out of the woods just a little bit longer. I had heard him leave the house so the clock was ticking.
When the longbeard sounded off next, he was only 30 yards or so away. I couldn't see him yet but I had my eyes peeled for that bobbing red-and-blue head. When I did see that head, it was behind a little brush so I patiently waited for him to step out into the road. When all was clear, I putted to get him to stop, and then pulled the trigger. Man, do I love that Colerain turkey choke barrel! That bird didn't flop or twitch, he just dropped like a stone. I looked at my watch and it was 6 am on the nose. Not a bad way to start the day in my estimation. You only get a textbook turkey hunt about once every five years so I guess I'm good until 2023.
Dad was on the ridge when this all went down but he got up there only in time for the last couple of gobbles and my shot. All's well that ends well, right?
The turkey weighed 20 1/2 pounds, had a thin 10" beard, and 1 1/4" spurs. For my load I used 65 grains of 3F powder, 1 overpowder card, 1/4" lubed fiber wad, 1 1/2 oz. #6 shot, and 1 overshot card.
I also found a few mushrooms!
Darren
Despite the obstacles, I persevered because that's what you do. I spent the last weekend of our season down on the family farm in the Ozarks with my dad. He had killed a nice bird the week before; in his front yard with no camo or call, but that is another story for another time. I woke up early Saturday morning, as I always do during turkey season, full of optimism that today would be THE day that I would have success. Usually that optimism is beaten out of me by 10 am or so but it always comes back the next day.
I drove over to the family graveyard, on the east side of our middle hay field, and stepped out of the truck at 5:15 am. It's as good a place to listen as any and it puts me about halfway between the furthest points of the farm. The ridge to the east always has birds on it but it is quite brushy and can be hard to hunt. At this stage in the game, though, I didn't care where the turkeys were located; I just wanted to play with some.
At 5:20, a gobbler sounded off on one of the ridges to the west of me. Dad normally drives to the top of one of those ridges to listen but I knew he hadn't left the house yet and I thought this bird was further west and south of where he would be. After the tom gobbled three more times, and he was the only one talking, I decided to climb up after him to get a better idea of where he was located.
I waded the creek that separates the west edge of our fields from the woods on that side and started the long ascent to the ridge top. It is steep as a horse's face but quiet walking as there is an old logging road that goes up that side. I figured the bird was roosted up in Woodland Holler, which would make him almost inaccessible, but he was the only game in town and I had showed up to hunt. I kicked a few deer out of the way as I started climbing the road and when the longbeard sounded off again I pinpointed his location as being on the other side of Beetree Holler opposite of me. That was good because it meant I could work him but it was bad because he was roosted about 100 yards from where Dad normally walks in and listens. I still hadn't heard Dad leave the house so I hoped I would have time to get 'er done before he showed up and ruined the party.
By now, it was getting pretty light out and I needing to find a setup spot fast before Ole Tom spotted me across the sparsely leafed out holler. About 75 yards from the ridge top, I found a suitable black oak to make my stand. It was about 20 yards off the skid trail to the south and just a little lower in elevation. I knew the bird would walk around the head of the holler when he came and, with this setup, he wouldn't be able to see me until he popped into the open. I quickly got out my calls, priming flask, and implements of the trade, and got ready. The bird was still roosted and gobbling which gave me a little more time. I hadn't called to him yet but the time was fast approaching.
The first problem I encountered before completely settling in was with my glasses. It was quite humid out and I was heated up due to the exertion of my ascent and my glasses kept fogging up. I finally just took them off and said the heck with it. At the distance I was shooting, I didn't think I'd need them. Fortunately, a little breeze came up at that time and took care of the problem. With my eyeware on, I made my first call.
The tom answered immediately and after a couple of back-and-forths, he flew down and started heading my way. I put powder in the pan, cocked the hammer back, and fervently hoped that this would work out in my favor. I also hoped that Dad would stay out of the woods just a little bit longer. I had heard him leave the house so the clock was ticking.
When the longbeard sounded off next, he was only 30 yards or so away. I couldn't see him yet but I had my eyes peeled for that bobbing red-and-blue head. When I did see that head, it was behind a little brush so I patiently waited for him to step out into the road. When all was clear, I putted to get him to stop, and then pulled the trigger. Man, do I love that Colerain turkey choke barrel! That bird didn't flop or twitch, he just dropped like a stone. I looked at my watch and it was 6 am on the nose. Not a bad way to start the day in my estimation. You only get a textbook turkey hunt about once every five years so I guess I'm good until 2023.
Dad was on the ridge when this all went down but he got up there only in time for the last couple of gobbles and my shot. All's well that ends well, right?
The turkey weighed 20 1/2 pounds, had a thin 10" beard, and 1 1/4" spurs. For my load I used 65 grains of 3F powder, 1 overpowder card, 1/4" lubed fiber wad, 1 1/2 oz. #6 shot, and 1 overshot card.
I also found a few mushrooms!
Darren
