dgibson
New member
Well, here's my turkey season so far. Opening day (Tuesday) and Wednesday both sucked as far as turkeys were concerned. It was pushing 80 degrees, bright sun, and the woods were dry and crisp. I never heard a peep from them, nor saw a feather. The usual places still had some sign, there just weren't any turkeys.
As luck would have it, a storm blew through the huntin' grounds Wednesday night. That made things good and wet, cool, and silent. Having learned my lesson on driving in those conditions
, I hoofed it back to the huntin' ground from the road, and actually (gasp) got there with time to spare.
Things were just starting to wake up when I arrived. I tried a couple of owl hoots but didn't get any response (those aren't real reliable in my neck of the woods anyway). Figuring it was going to be another red-letter day, I started casting about for a destination. Remembering that there was some pretty good sign in the little bowl where Flipper's Gutless Wonder wound up, I headed that direction. I was about halfway down that slope when I heard a faint sound that I thought might be a gobble. Could it be? It was!
I moved in to what sounded like about 100 yards from the gobbles and set up shop. I broke out the trusty Quaker Boy Triple Threat 3-in-1 slate and threw a few yelps out, thinking "yeah right." Boom! He gobbled right back. I yelped a few more times, and I heard another gobble, but strangely, it seemed to have come from a different direction. Eh? So, I yelped a third time and the first answered, then the second...two gobblers! They started gobbling back and forth about a minute apart, and I threw in a yelp or two once in a while for encouragement. I could tell from the sound that both were moving in pronto. Bill Jordan eat your heart out. Well, this went on for a little bit, then suddenly both birds seemed to stop. No matter how much I called, they wouldn't come any closer. It sank in that, despite what you see on TV, these birds weren't going to come running in with a "Shoot Me" sign on their necks. I finally decided to try and sneak closer to see what was up.
Well, it turns out that their original distance had been a little further than I thought (it's hard to judge distance from sound in the holler, y'all). I closed the distance to about 75 yards. As I was nearing, I started hearing water....That trickle in the bottom of the bowl that I remembered had turned into a full-fledged creek. And both the gobblers were hung up on the other side of it.
To make matters worse, the other side of that creek was someone else's property that I didn't have access to. So, I could either get them across the creek or forget it.
I pleaded with those turkeys for what seemed like hours. I offered them "come hithers," love, wine, and song. I even offered them free Moosie sex at the last, and they still refused to cross the creek.
I kept begging, and they kept accomodating me by gobbling about once a minute or so. I even got a glimpse or two at one of them through the brush. Then, at 8 AM, they both just turned off. It was like someone had sent out a memo that said "that's enough toying with the idiot." They both moseyed off without another gobble, yelp, or fart in my general direction, as if I had never been there. And that was pretty much the end of my day; the woods were as silent as they were on Tuesday. Nothing else there or anywhere for the rest of the morning.
Turkey or not, I sure had a good time! At least I didn't lose them to one of my typical screw-ups...I actually gave them the old college try this time.
By the way, for Nut's benefit, I also saw a tree that had no less than five squirrels feeding in it. The daily limit here is six...who said those Street Sweepers ain't useful in a hunting situation?
As luck would have it, a storm blew through the huntin' grounds Wednesday night. That made things good and wet, cool, and silent. Having learned my lesson on driving in those conditions
Things were just starting to wake up when I arrived. I tried a couple of owl hoots but didn't get any response (those aren't real reliable in my neck of the woods anyway). Figuring it was going to be another red-letter day, I started casting about for a destination. Remembering that there was some pretty good sign in the little bowl where Flipper's Gutless Wonder wound up, I headed that direction. I was about halfway down that slope when I heard a faint sound that I thought might be a gobble. Could it be? It was!
I moved in to what sounded like about 100 yards from the gobbles and set up shop. I broke out the trusty Quaker Boy Triple Threat 3-in-1 slate and threw a few yelps out, thinking "yeah right." Boom! He gobbled right back. I yelped a few more times, and I heard another gobble, but strangely, it seemed to have come from a different direction. Eh? So, I yelped a third time and the first answered, then the second...two gobblers! They started gobbling back and forth about a minute apart, and I threw in a yelp or two once in a while for encouragement. I could tell from the sound that both were moving in pronto. Bill Jordan eat your heart out. Well, this went on for a little bit, then suddenly both birds seemed to stop. No matter how much I called, they wouldn't come any closer. It sank in that, despite what you see on TV, these birds weren't going to come running in with a "Shoot Me" sign on their necks. I finally decided to try and sneak closer to see what was up.
Well, it turns out that their original distance had been a little further than I thought (it's hard to judge distance from sound in the holler, y'all). I closed the distance to about 75 yards. As I was nearing, I started hearing water....That trickle in the bottom of the bowl that I remembered had turned into a full-fledged creek. And both the gobblers were hung up on the other side of it.
I pleaded with those turkeys for what seemed like hours. I offered them "come hithers," love, wine, and song. I even offered them free Moosie sex at the last, and they still refused to cross the creek.
I kept begging, and they kept accomodating me by gobbling about once a minute or so. I even got a glimpse or two at one of them through the brush. Then, at 8 AM, they both just turned off. It was like someone had sent out a memo that said "that's enough toying with the idiot." They both moseyed off without another gobble, yelp, or fart in my general direction, as if I had never been there. And that was pretty much the end of my day; the woods were as silent as they were on Tuesday. Nothing else there or anywhere for the rest of the morning.
Turkey or not, I sure had a good time! At least I didn't lose them to one of my typical screw-ups...I actually gave them the old college try this time.
By the way, for Nut's benefit, I also saw a tree that had no less than five squirrels feeding in it. The daily limit here is six...who said those Street Sweepers ain't useful in a hunting situation?
