Frustration Level:10!

[Neill_Prater]

Another thread gave me the idea for this post. What is the single most frustrating gobbler hunt of your hunting career? I could probably write a book with over 30 years of chasing birds under my belt, but the one hunt that absolutely always comes to mind is one back in the 1990's on public land here in MO.

It was perhaps 10:00 AM when I heard a bird sound off from a public road. I grabbed my gear and headed toward the gobbles, which turned out to be over a half mile away. The area was along a sizeable river, and when I approached the bird, I realized he was across the water, on the outside of a bend in the river in the bottom area between the river and the bluff. Immediately across the river from the bird, on my side, was a small open area of perhaps an acre or so of nice green grass, with only a couple of trees in the middle of it. I slipped up to one of the trees, stuck a hen decoy out in front of me, and started working the bird. I knew it was a long shot calling him across, but had some faith if I could call him to the edge, he might see the decoy and commit.

Well, after about 30 or more minutes of talking to him, and listening to him respond with sometimes double gobbles, I decided I needed to change my strategy and get over there with him. Our season closes at 1:00 PM, and it was probably after 11:00 at that point. So, back to the truck I go as fast as I can manage. Did I mention it was about 80 degrees and the humidity was high you could cut the air with a knife?

Anyway, drenched in sweat, I tossed my gear in the truck and hightailed it down the road to the nearest bridge and the 3 miles or so of road to get close to the bird. After arriving on the other side, I faced the dilema of how to approach the bird. Going over the top of the bluff was about the only quick option, so I climbed the back side of the ridge (did I mention it was about 90 degrees?), not an easy task in and of itself, since I was then about at Ben Rogers Lee's prime hunting weight. Finally, gasping for air, hair plastered to my scalp, I come out above where the gobbler had been, but, no gobbling? 

I pulled out my crow call, hoping to get him to shock gobble and give away his position so I could work out a strategy for getting into position to call. No dice. After about 10 minutes, I pulled out a call and gave him some yelps, desperate to locate the bird. Dejected, I decided he had hooked up with a hen, and it was all over. I was looking across the river, and could see the tree where I had previously been set up. As I was watching, I see a bird take to the air below me and sail across the river. That gobbler landed 20 yards from the tree I had been sitting next to and started feeding around in the grass!

After several specially chosen curse words, I realized not all was lost, as I now knew where he was, and could get back over there before quitting time, if I really hoofed it. Scrambling down the ridge, limbs whacking me in the face, sweating profusely (did I mention it was about 100 degrees?), I crawl in the truck, throw it in gear and slide around the corners of the gravelled road towards the bridge.

Arriving back at the original parking spot, I fall out of the truck and begin the half mile journey through the steamy bottoms (did I mention it was about 110 degrees?). The bird was silent, but I reasoned he was probably still in the same spot, so my strategy was to approach along the relatively clear area close to the river, set up a couple of hundred yards away, and call him in. I get to a decent looking spot, thinking it would do as a set up, and, while reaching in my vest for my decoy, look up only to see the gobbler standing about 40 yards away! Time went into slow motion, as I fumbled, attempting to mount my gun before the bird made his escape! Unfortunately for me, time, for the turkey, apparently was in normal mode, as he made it to the brush just about the time the gun hit my shoulder.

It absolutely, for me, was the closest I ever came to throwing my gear in the river, gun included, and quitting turkey hunting. I did, actually, that day, as it was then almost 1:00, but, you know, the next morning, I went turkey hunting!

[dirt road ninja]

What happen the next day?

[njdevilsb]

The most frustrating hunt of my career was probably the most rewarding hunt I have ever been on also.  My dad and I had a few birds roosted and set off the next morning to see what we could do.  We got there, confirmed their location and started playing the game.  When they flew down, we realized they had hens with them.

This piece of property is mostly fields, 3 right along the woods and some brush separating those fields from another big field that runs along the road for most of the property.  The birds made their way into the bigger field on the other side of the brush.  We could see them and they answered almost everything we did, but they had no reason to come to us.  It sounded like they were going off to our right towards one of the other fields, so we packed up and slipped through the woods, down the logging road and made it to the other field.

We got over there and got sight of them and confirmed they were coming our way.  We call just a little to try and get some interest.  The birds were working their way toward us.  The only 2 birds to make it over to us were 2 hens, well within range, but the gobblers stayed about 200 yards away with more hens.  Eventually they started working back towards the field we were in earlier.  You guessed it, we packed up and went back to just about the same spot we were before.  Third verse, same as the first two.  Long story short we ended up back in field number two.  And then back to field number one, again.  

It was about 10:00am and the birds were pretty much shut down and we weren't sure where they had gone since we lost sight of them through the hedgerow.  We have to quit at noon here in NY, and we figured the hunt was pretty much over, so we packed up and decided to head out.  We got to the brush that separates the field we were in from the bigger field.  I said to my dad, why don't we just let out one more call and see what happens.  I yelped on my diaphragm and the field in front of us exploded with gobbles about 50 yards away.  We hit the deck and started sneaking into the brush looking for an opening to try and see where they were.  Finally we spotted them.  Only one bird was strutting, so we focused on him.  Somehow without being seen, we had gotten into range.  My dad had a clear shot at him and took it and the bird was down at 10:30.  After they made their initial trek from the tree to the big field, I bet the group didn't move more than 100 yards in that 5 hour period.

Roughly 5 and a half hours from when we first setup, and after setting up 5 different times, only to get him after we had called it quits, that was quite a frustrating but rewarding and memorable hunt.

[JWC07]

One afternoon me and a friend got one to gobble on the next ridge. We were sitting on the edge of a clearcut right at the crest of the ridge. Which hurt us cause it was too clear for me to back up and call so my buddy could kill him. He was with hens but he left them and i pulled him away and across the holler and he came up "our" ridge drumming. He got right on top of us about 15yds but the dang thing was just over the hump and the ridge was steeper than it appeared and all i could see was the very tip top of his fan. for 2 hours we watched as he strutted back and forth laterally on the ridge right in front of us and niether of us could get a shot. Finally he walked away back to the other ridge.

It frustrates me because I should've just stood up and shot him