Due to the monsoon rains, I had to change my hunting plans to go to the farm several times over the past couple weeks. Dad's warning phone calls elevated from "Bring your high boots" to "Bring your waders" to "Bring your ark". When I finally arrived at Chateau Haverstick this past Monday morning, I could hear the roar of the creek from where I parked. As kids, my brother and I would spend hours trying to figure out ways to cross the high water for no other reason that to just say we did it. More often than not, we got as wet shimmying across overhanging tree limbs or walking on half-submerged water gates as we would have if we had just swam across. Staying dry wasn't the point; it was the challenge.
"Turn around, don't drown"
Unfortunately, I did not own one of those Hollywood flintlocks that would fire even after being dunked underwater several times, so the water barrier that is Barren Fork Creek would effectively whittle down my hunting area to a fraction of what it normally is. My best chance for success would be to basically hunt in Dad's front yard. He had called me twice over the past week to say that there was a tom strutting next to the house. Since Dad doesn't mess with them much, I figured I might be able to lure that bird to his death. My only concern was hunting either before or after the mail carrier made her daily delivery so she didn't mess up a hunt.
I didn't want to get too far from home
With that in mind, I spent the rest of Monday morning on a ridge above the house, calling every so often but mainly wasting time until the mail arrived. After lunch, and mail delivery, I grabbed my flintlock SxS, Little Debbie, put on my Mobile Turkey Command Center (aka turkey vest), and walked about 150 yards from the house to set up shop. I climbed under an old walnut tree on the south side of the road, put some dekes out about 20 yards from my position, laid out all my calls, and got to work. I had my Kindle to keep me company so I'd call every little bit in between chapters.
I'm under the tree in the center of the photo behind my Ghostblind
For contrast, my dad's setup in his woodshed about 30 yards from the house. Why walk if you don't have to?
The gun I was using I had bought specifically to hunt turkeys with but, so far, it has been a large disappointment. Besides having some serious design flaws, it didn't reliably go off when I pulled the trigger and its pattern was not great. That all being said, I was determined to kill a spring bird with it so I took all that into account when I set up. All I needed to do was get a bird to within 20 yards and then have the gun fire. Other than that, it should be a piece of cake.
All afternoon, I heard birds putting on the ridges in front of me and behind me, but nothing stepped out in the field I was in, or even answered my calls. Finally, around 5:30, I heard a turkey putt at the bottom of the ridge right in front of me about 100 yards away. I then heard it walking through the leaves. It was quickly joined by two others and three jakes materialized from the forest.
As I watched them feed across the road, I was initially torn as whether or not to shoot one if the opportunity arose. It sure would be nice to take a big tom with the gun I was using so I could show myself that it could be done. But, with the way things were currently stacked against me, the old adage "bird in the hand" came to mind. I have killed jakes before and am not embarrassed by it. I just prefer the amount of meat I get off a mature bird better. Deciding that beggars can't be choosers, I waiting for the curious youngsters to come visit me.
Well, as you might have seen in the video, things went as planned. The Three Stooges came right up to my Funky Chicken but only two of them walked away. My SxS worked flawlessly and there wasn't a single pellet anywhere except the neck and head. The bird weighed almost 13 pounds and had a 3 3/4" beard. I had hunted a total of two days at my farm over the past three weeks and had killed two birds. I'd say that is a pretty good season!
Darren
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