The Baron
45 Cal.
- Joined
- May 10, 2004
- Messages
- 927
- Reaction score
- 15
I had time (or is that, made time?) to scout turkeys a few mornings this year and got a good fix on a pair of toms for our season opener yesterday. They were roosting just inside the hardwoods, on the edge of a short cropped alfalfa field that is slated to be plowed/planted soon, so I decided to go right in after them quickly before they moved. I snuck in under the cover of near total darkness, well before the birds were awake to detect my ruse. I was only +/- 100 yards south, along the same treeline where the birds were roosted, so I had to be stealthy. As the light slowly crept in ahead of the eventual sunrise, I was serenaded with a satisfying amount of gobbling on the roost. Then I heard some leaves crunch and look 5 yards beside me is a very large racoon. I whispered "go away" and thankfully he did with a minimum of commotion.
When the birds started to pitch down, I silently cocked the hammer on my .62 Caywood fusil, thinking it would be just a matter of seconds before the first tom came to run off the jake decoy I had 10 yards in front of me. But, the Good Lord was going to make me wait and wonder as the birds (I assume) all entered the field out of my sight to the north, just over the rise in the field. I heard a couple of gobbles in response to crows and, even though I was 99% sure the birds would be working right past me on their regular routine, there was still that 1% of doubt. I picked up my slate call and made few soft yelps, with no response. Could "my" toms already be gone the other away? I yelped again a bit louder and was satisfied to hear a gobble from somewhere over the rise. Not super close, but still in the field for sure. Now - after several years of hunting turkeys I've learned to enjoy the wonderful sound of my own calling abilities at home, and now subscribe to the "less is more" approach most of the time in the field. I knew my call had been heard, and I felt I was in the right spot, so I set the call down again and waited. And waited... 10 minutes... 15 minutes. Maybe 20 minutes? Hmmmm... perhaps something is awry. I'd love to sneak out for a look, but that rarely goes well. Then again, I do need to pee...
I very slowly lifted myself up onto my knees and sure enough, spotted just the top sliver of a tail fan. So I eased back down and seconds later the top of his back came into view... then his white head. I ease my hammer back and slide my hand out under the forend of my gun to line everything up. Sure enough, I see him lift his head up (spots the decoy) and here he comes in a full strut march, spittin' and drummin' the 70-odd yards from the crest of the hill to my decoy in about 30 seconds. Just as planned. How easy. I am so good. The tom does a pirouette, angles his neck out to give DJ (my decoy) a mean stare. Man, I love pan fried turkey strips.
I drop the hammer...
Flash in the pan! :shocked2: Ack!! That's never happened to me before while hunting. Suddenly my traditional muzzle loading prowess comes into question! I had not picked the flash hole, but then again I seldom do. I did prime in the dark and never really checked it properly - too little priming powder, perhaps? :hmm:
The tom lifts his head, stares at me and I know I'm done. All is lost. Failure. Then, I think DJ must have realized I need help and whispered a nasty insult, because the tom then turns around, gives DJ a smack with his wing and goes back into strut! I quickly figure I have 2 options. 1 - sit here like a dummy, wallowing in failure or 2 - try to re-prime and see if my luck changes. I'm not much of a wallower, so I keep my eyes on the tom and slowly cock the gun, feel down by my side and get my hands on my priming tool which is attached to the inside pocket of my turkey vest by a 2ft. long leather lanyard. I had taken my vest off while I sat so as I slowly lift my priming tool up to the gun I'm starting to lift my entire vest. Somehow I manage to pass the primer in front of my face and depress it against the pan. It spills out about 3x as much powder as I wanted but beggars can't be choosers so I set the primer/vest arrangement back down. Now the tom is realizing that bush is moving quite a bit and is getting nervous. I reach over and ease the frizzen cover closed as the tom putts. I get my forehand back on the gun and line up just as he takes three steps toward safety. But he pauses for one last look... and those three steps only take him to 13 yards so the hammer goes down, the sparks fly... and I am immensely relieved to hear a loud boom and feel the shove of the buttplate into my shoulder. Through the smoke I see the tom collapse and I'm standing on his neck before I even realize it. Incredible! I still cannot believe I turned a near perfect plan into a near dismal failure - and then recovered. Like I always say, if you can't be good, be lucky. :wink:
So that was #14 for the Caywood. I've got 1 more Ontario tag and am headed over the border for a few days in NY as well, so hopefully there are more to come. Even if I don't tag another bird this year, there's no place I'd rather be than in the turkey woods with my smoothie!
When the birds started to pitch down, I silently cocked the hammer on my .62 Caywood fusil, thinking it would be just a matter of seconds before the first tom came to run off the jake decoy I had 10 yards in front of me. But, the Good Lord was going to make me wait and wonder as the birds (I assume) all entered the field out of my sight to the north, just over the rise in the field. I heard a couple of gobbles in response to crows and, even though I was 99% sure the birds would be working right past me on their regular routine, there was still that 1% of doubt. I picked up my slate call and made few soft yelps, with no response. Could "my" toms already be gone the other away? I yelped again a bit louder and was satisfied to hear a gobble from somewhere over the rise. Not super close, but still in the field for sure. Now - after several years of hunting turkeys I've learned to enjoy the wonderful sound of my own calling abilities at home, and now subscribe to the "less is more" approach most of the time in the field. I knew my call had been heard, and I felt I was in the right spot, so I set the call down again and waited. And waited... 10 minutes... 15 minutes. Maybe 20 minutes? Hmmmm... perhaps something is awry. I'd love to sneak out for a look, but that rarely goes well. Then again, I do need to pee...
I very slowly lifted myself up onto my knees and sure enough, spotted just the top sliver of a tail fan. So I eased back down and seconds later the top of his back came into view... then his white head. I ease my hammer back and slide my hand out under the forend of my gun to line everything up. Sure enough, I see him lift his head up (spots the decoy) and here he comes in a full strut march, spittin' and drummin' the 70-odd yards from the crest of the hill to my decoy in about 30 seconds. Just as planned. How easy. I am so good. The tom does a pirouette, angles his neck out to give DJ (my decoy) a mean stare. Man, I love pan fried turkey strips.
I drop the hammer...
Flash in the pan! :shocked2: Ack!! That's never happened to me before while hunting. Suddenly my traditional muzzle loading prowess comes into question! I had not picked the flash hole, but then again I seldom do. I did prime in the dark and never really checked it properly - too little priming powder, perhaps? :hmm:
The tom lifts his head, stares at me and I know I'm done. All is lost. Failure. Then, I think DJ must have realized I need help and whispered a nasty insult, because the tom then turns around, gives DJ a smack with his wing and goes back into strut! I quickly figure I have 2 options. 1 - sit here like a dummy, wallowing in failure or 2 - try to re-prime and see if my luck changes. I'm not much of a wallower, so I keep my eyes on the tom and slowly cock the gun, feel down by my side and get my hands on my priming tool which is attached to the inside pocket of my turkey vest by a 2ft. long leather lanyard. I had taken my vest off while I sat so as I slowly lift my priming tool up to the gun I'm starting to lift my entire vest. Somehow I manage to pass the primer in front of my face and depress it against the pan. It spills out about 3x as much powder as I wanted but beggars can't be choosers so I set the primer/vest arrangement back down. Now the tom is realizing that bush is moving quite a bit and is getting nervous. I reach over and ease the frizzen cover closed as the tom putts. I get my forehand back on the gun and line up just as he takes three steps toward safety. But he pauses for one last look... and those three steps only take him to 13 yards so the hammer goes down, the sparks fly... and I am immensely relieved to hear a loud boom and feel the shove of the buttplate into my shoulder. Through the smoke I see the tom collapse and I'm standing on his neck before I even realize it. Incredible! I still cannot believe I turned a near perfect plan into a near dismal failure - and then recovered. Like I always say, if you can't be good, be lucky. :wink:
So that was #14 for the Caywood. I've got 1 more Ontario tag and am headed over the border for a few days in NY as well, so hopefully there are more to come. Even if I don't tag another bird this year, there's no place I'd rather be than in the turkey woods with my smoothie!
