Big Bird Down!

On my last post I shared about my tough luck turkey hunting pubic land the opening week in Florida: I missed a gobbler the first morning and hit a bird two days later while peppering an old guy behind it who preceded to jump up and shoot the same bird, claiming it for himself. So my turkey season began with two very frustrating experiences. Hunting aint' like going to the grocery store and picking up what you want. It is a highly variable experience filled with highs and lows. Sometimes I feel like Michael Waddell with every animal in the woods walking right to me, and other times I feel like Jimmy Big Time who couldn't get close to an animal in a petting zoo; but here's what I've learned through many slow times, if you stick with, it sooner or later things will break wide open. Thankfully, I've found turkey redemption this weekend in Georgia.

I had to work opening morning but right after I got off my brother Jacob picked me up and we headed to our lease in Southeast Georgia. We arrived at the camp late in the evening and without having an opportunity to do any preseason scouting I didn't  know where to start in morning. Jacob, who's a braver man than me, brought along his three little boys; confining himself to stay in his Double Bull blind all weekend. My plan was to hear some birds gobble and go to them. I went to sleep with low expectations for the morning, expecting it to be more of a scouting expedition than a killin' one.

After getting three little boys under 9 years old up and at em', we reached the woods a little later than we hoped. The first light of morning was already glowing over the pines when my brother dropped me off at a little logging road where I had heard birds last season. I got out of the truck, walked about 50 yards and hit my slate call. Instantly I was cut off by a pair of gobbling birds about 150 yards down a pine row in front of me! My expectation for the morning shot up. I crept down to the end of the pine row where I set up my hen decoy and sat against a pine tree. The birds must have gobbled a hundred times before they flew down and headed towards a field on a neighboring property. As their gobbles got further away I crept up to the property line where I watched the two Toms strut in the field with their harem of hens. As they stood in full strut, five deer crossed the field single file behind them. I was truly enjoying the morning.

After watching the pair of Toms for about half an hour I noticed they seemed to be working their way towards the property line on the corner of our lease. I decided to take a walk around and see if they would come over to our side. I was walking a road that was separated from the field by a few pine rows while keeping my eyes on the strutting gobblers. Then I was stopped dead in my tracks by a fanning tail in the pines to my left. At first I thought it might be someone's decoy until it began to move. It was a strutting Tom right off the road! I quickly jumped into the little ditch on the opposite side of the road and belly crawled my way even with the strutting Tom. As I peeked over the ditch I could see his tail fanning at about 40 yards. I put my hen decoy up and did some calling but the Tom wouldn't budge. After waiting for about ten minutes I decided to make a move. I crawled up a little way till I put some brush between myself and the bird and then crossed the road like a big snake. When I got to a pine tree on the other side I lifted my head hoping to be within 30 yards of the bird. He was nowhere to be seen. Thinking he had busted me crossing the road I stalked towards where I had last seen him. I think he startled me as much as I did him when we met at 20 yards. His retreat into the pines was met by two shots from my semi-auto 12 gauge. Then to my horror I watched a bird fly through the pines and over the road as I went running after it.

I was fuming mad. At this point in my frustrating hunting season it just seemed typical. I could still see the first two toms out in the field so I begrudgingly made my way back to the spot I had shot to set up and start over. As I walked up I noticed something flopping on the ground. It was a big Tom! I ran up and put another round in its head just because I wanted to make sure no old guy jumped out from behind a bush again to claim my bird. I was jumping up and down pumping my fist in the air with pure joy. I finally got my break and killed a bird in the most lucky fashion.

Not only was he a bird but he was the biggest gobbler I have ever seen. He sported an 11 inch beard with both spurs a little over an inch and a quarter; but the most noticeable thing to me was that his toenails curled out and around over three inches long. Weighing in at 25 lb. he was truly a big freak nasty. I had bagged probably the biggest bird of my life on the first morning of my hunt so the pressure was off.

I had some close calls with a couple more Toms but they were all henned up and wouldn't budge their course. I did have a big strutting Tom at about 40 yards but I decided against taking a long shot due to my failures so far in that department. I watched him fly up to roost and planned to get him on the last morning of our hunt.

When my alarm went off the next morning I was both tired and feeling sorry for my brother who was trying to wake his boys. I offered to stay back to watch his youngest two and drew him a map on a napkin of where the Tom had roosted the evening before. He and his oldest son set up early where I told them but he decided to move towards some other gobblers sounding off further down. My nephew Noah was left in the spot. The hens flew down first and ran towards the neighboring field. He got up to move when the gobbler sounded off 20 yards away and ran off. He was bummed!

Meanwhile I was back at camp making pancakes for the boys and doing dishes in the cook shed. I walked out to the road to take the garbage out and heard a gobble across the street in the blueberry field owned by a good friend of ours. I didn't believe my ears until I heard him sound a second time. I walked up the road and looked down the edge of the field to see a big bronze tail fan gleaming in the morning sun. My gun was with my brother in his truck but then I remembered, my bow was in the bedroom! I sprinted back to the house and threw on some camo pants and my boots. Since my hat was in the truck I tied a camo shirt over my head like a ninja. Grabbing my bow, I ran back to the field and peered around the corner. The gobbler was still standing tail open in the same spot. Once again I hit the ground and belly crawled my way through the tall grass towards a big oak tree. When I finally made my way there I peeked around the tree to see my victim. A metal folding chair with a bronze back that looked like a turkey fan in the sunlight. A little further to the left was a hen watching me stalk a chair. She took off into the woods and I'm sure the gobbler followed her. I was lucky this trip but not that lucky.

Hunting can be tough and at times downright frustrating. But hang in there and things will eventually work out for the human and not the animal. After a tough start to the season I got the bird of a lifetime and made a really good stalk on a folding chair. Get out in the woods and sooner or later you'll have your break as well.

The Shared Richloam Gobbler

It started out with all the makings of a text book turkey hunt. I was set up in a cypress bottom that made a narrow funnel along a big marsh pond. I had missed a bird here on opening morning when I impatiently took a long shot. I was determined to be more patient if given the opportunity again. I had a gobbler responding to my call and his gobble was getting louder and louder.

I was doing a good job of keeping my cool until they emerged out of the cypress roots in front of me. Two big gobblers, strutting and putting as they worked their way towards me. With my heart pounding out of my chest I put my scope to my eye and kept it on the bigger bird as he strutted his way back and forth at about 40 yards. I was telling myself, "Just wait Josh, just  wait." but my finger wasn't listening. As he stopped with his big red head in my cross-hairs I could bear it no longer. I squeezed off the shot and watched him drop and flop.

I jumped up and began the victory dash towards him as I put another shell in the chamber for insurance. This is when the text book turkey hunt took a turn towards the chaotic. As I was running up to prevent his floppy attempt to escape, another shot rang out, but it wasn't from my gun. Then I heard an angry shout from the palmettos behind the turkey, "You shot me $%*&@$ %&*(#$!"

I stopped dead in my tracks. Who was this and was he shooting back at me? I've never experienced a change of emotions so drastic and fast. It started out as a victory dash to retrieve my bird and then turned to a rescue run to help this angry man, half expecting to get shot. When I got to him I found that he was a true old timer and he was standing over the dead turkey. "Are you okay?" I asked with an awkward and shaken tone (this was my first time shooting someone and I wasn't quite sure what the proper procedure was for this kind of accident; I wondered what Dick Cheney said)?

Thank God, he was fine. One pellet had hit his ankle without puncturing his pant leg much less his skin. "Well, at least I got my turkey" was his response. Now I was really in a pickle. I had called these birds in, watched them strut, shot one and was running up to retrieve it when this old guy stepped out from behind the palmettos and put my bird down for the count; but I wasn't about to argue over a turkey with a 70 something year old man whom I had just peppered with a 3 1/2 inch magnum load. I figured he had earned it as a consolation prize for getting shot.

We were standing next to a big cypress tree with a wooden sign nailed to it that said, "In Memory of Robin." When he looked up and saw that the turkey had fallen under that tree he began crying. Now I was really feeling awkward. He explained that Robin was his best hunting buddy. They had been turkey hunting together at this honey hole since the 1970s. Robin died a couple years ago and his friend nailed up the sign to commemorate him. He turned out to be a really nice guy and shared his knowledge of 40 years hunting this off the beaten path spot at Richloam WMA. He said it was a strutting zone where for years gobblers have visited late in the mornings after they lose their hens. I believe him because both mornings I have hunted there I've seen gobblers around 11 a.m. and they were gobbling and strutting like crazy.

He offered to give me the meat and he would keep the long spurs and 10 1/2 inch beard. I declined, content with some pictures. I was just thankful that he was okay and I made a new friend in the woods. I probably have more years of turkey hunting left than he does and I think he was glad to share his knowledge of the area with me and know that the secrets of this honey hole wouldn't die with him and his best buddy Robin.

Not every hunt turns out with a text book ending; but every hunt does write a story in my memories and this is one I'll never forget: The time I shot two old Florida birds and luckily only one died. It was also a  startling reminder to try to be as safe as possible, especially on public land. It's probably not a good idea to stalk up on gobbling birds on public property when there's a good possibility that there's a kid with an itchy trigger finger on the other end of the string that is causing the birds to gobble.

It's Almost Turkey Time!

Through the long hot days of summer I find myself daydreaming about September archery season. When it finally comes I have deer on the brain through mid January. Then I find myself chasing hog and small game through the end of February. When the small game season finally ends I have the brief thought that hunting season is over. But then I remember...SPRING TURKEY SEASON IS COMING!

My turkey hunting started as an uneventful experience. My brother Jacob took me to Three Lakes WMA and we sat around and listened to other hunters practicing their calling skills. It seemed like there was another hunter under every tree. We did see a couple hens but that was about it. Didn't hear any gobbles, and even with the multitude of other hunters, we didn't see anyone bring a bird to the check station.

But I decided to give turkey hunting another chance and went with my brother to his lease in South Georgia. There the birds were gobbling and I can't describe the excitement that came over me as I looked down the barrel of a shotgun expecting a gobbler to step out in front of our set-up at any moment. We never did seal the deal on a gobbler that trip but I had experienced what turkey hunting was about and I was hooked.

Noah and Josh's first turkeys

My first turkey came a couple years later in 2009. We had been hunting our lease and hearing a lot of birds but they seemed to be all henned up. Then our friend Jeff, who's family owns a large blueberry farm near our lease, invited us to hunt a large field near his farm where turkey religiously come to feed. The field is about 1,000 yards long and wide and is usually planted in corn and then plowed up in the winter. Turkey come out from the pines on the East side of the field at all times of the day. I've never sat there without looking at turkey nearly every minute of the hunt. The tricky part is being within shooting range on a field that large. The first afternoon we saw a ton of hens and a couple gobblers strutting about 600 yards from us. The next morning Jacob's son Noah joined us as we set up in a brush blind Jeff had made under a low hanging water oak at the back corner of the field. Shortly after first light and the beautiful music of gobbling toms, we began to watch the hens filter into the field. Then I heard my brother whisper, "Gobbler." He was sitting on the right, Noah in the middle and myself on the left, so he could see the bird emerging from the corner of the field before I could. It wasn't one bird but three Jakes who worked their way single file into our field of view. I whispered a quiet, "One, two," and then "Bang!" Our shotguns went off in unison and three Jakes were taking a dust nap! It was both my first turkey and Noah's and we couldn't be more elated at the way it worked out.

Jacob's Gobbler

The next year we once again got permission to hunt the same field and opening morning Jacob and Noah shot three nice Toms. I couldn't make the opener due to my daughter Ellie being born March 17; but the beginning of April I was able to slip away for a weekend to hunt with them in Georgia. The second evening of our hunt we decided to try to shoot a bird with our bows so we left the shotguns at camp and sat in my ground blind at the corner of the same field. A nice Tom came out and fed his way past us at about 50 yards and out of view to our right. About 20 minutes later he appeared again at 30 yards but there were a few small branches blocking a clean shot with a bow. Then he was gone again for good. Why didn't we bring our shotguns? Putting our bows away,  we tried to run and gun gobbling Toms on our lease the next morning with no luck. Our time was nearly up and it was the last afternoon hunt before we had to leave the next morning. Jacob and Noah decided to stay at camp and I almost decided to join them. But I had to give it another shot. I drove to the big field and walked the thousand yards through soft plowed dirt to the corner where I set up my ground blind. It was brutally hot as I sweated in my jeans looking out at a bright field of dirt. I took my jeans off and slipped my thin netted ghillie suit pants over my underwear. Then a hen came out from right behind me in a rushed fashion. I was wondering if the ground blind had spooked her when I looked out of a small port hole to my left to see a large Tom following her trail about 5 steps from my blind. I carefully stuck the end of my shotgun out of the front window and prayed that he would continue out to the field. Time seemed to slow down and then he stepped into view right in front of my barrel at 15 yards. My 3 1/2 inch magnum load connected, blasting his neck along with a good piece of his beard. I was stoked! I threw a celebration in my ground blind and then had enough sense to put my jeans back on before running out to see him. A nice 20 lb Tom with a 10 inch beard and 1 1/4 inch spurs.

Last season was fun. I saw two Toms on my lease opening morning. They held up at about 50 yards and I took a shot as they walked away. I missed and they ran into the pines unharmed. We ended up back at the lucky field and set up a hen and a jake decoy. A big tom came out ready to fight. He bristled up and rushed the jake decoy. Jacob was in the best position to take a shot in my cramped ground blind and he dropped the tom at 10 yards. Seeing that was almost as fun as taking one myself.

This year I want to accomplish two feats:
1. Harvest my first Osceola on public land.
2. If I accomplish the first, harvest a turkey with my bow in Georgia.

My brother Jonny and I have drawn quota permits for Richloam WMA which opens March 17. I have hunted there a ton and know a lot of areas where I have seen turkey, but I want do as much scouting as I can before opening day. Last week Jonny and I drove down there and at first light went to an area by the river where we archery hunted years ago. We parked the truck, stepped out and I hit my slate call. Instantly two gobblers lit up right in front of us. That was easy. We made our way down a small trail until we could see the large oak tree that they were roosted in. My only concern is that it is the obvious spot to go to and I think a lot of other hunters will be there opening morning. We drove all over the 58,000 acre property and checked areas where we have seen turkey in the past. Surprisingly, there was very little turkey sign in these spots that are usually teaming with tracks. I had never seen Richloam this dry and many of the swamps that are usually knee deep in water were completely bone dry. I suspect that the dry conditions might have changed the turkey's roosting areas from past seasons I have hunted there. Not content with having only one obvious area where I know gobblers are roosting, I am planning on going again to scout tomorrow morning as I have a couple more areas in mind that are off the beaten trail.

If I can manage to seal the deal with a Richloam gobbler the first week, I am planning on going stick and string the next week when I go up to Georgia for the opener there. But first thing first. I need to locate some more gobblers at Richloam and show up next Saturday with a game plan. Stay tuned to see how it goes!