I don't pack my camera everywhere with me like I used to so I don't end up with as many photos of the country I hunt and the ones I do end up with are lesser quality phone photos. I did take a few with my camera from the truck that I've included.
I killed this riverbottom bird on Wednesday morning around 10:30 after hunting Monday and Tuesday morning and evening. I had tried to kill him the previous morning but couldn't budge him or his fellow gobbler off a few hens.
I really needed this one because I missed the easiest shot I've ever missed the previous morning after a flock of 6 hens (one really bossy one) lead a strutting and drumming tom straight into between 25 and 30 yards. While this is not an excuse for the miss, I was tucked under a bush in an awkward position and couldn't keep me knees up, so I had to raise the gun and shoot once the tom was in position. The tom barely even came out of strut when I did it so I had all the time I needed, but I rushed the shot and never got down on the gun to line the beads up and shot right over his head. Amazingly enough he roosted in the exact same spot that night with his hens and I tried him again on this morning but I couldn't pull them in again.
I could hear the bird I eventually killed gobbling the whole time that I was on the missed bird. He wasn't too far away, but I had to hike back to the truck and drive around to the other side of the river. I got a few gobbles out of them when I got within a couple hundred yards but that was it. I slipped farther along through the timber to see if I could spot them. I got lucky and didn't bump this bird before I spotted him strutting. He walked out from behind a large cottonwood at about 75 yards along with a fellow tom and a couple hens. I had even more luck when the hens came running with the two toms in tow. Lots of drumming when the toms stopped behind a big thick bush, but they finally eased out and I took the one doing the majority of strutting.
My riverbottom bird: 22.6 lbs, 9 5/8" beard, 1 1/16" spur
He wasn't snow white like the bird I missed, but had a much bigger beard and I believe was a heavier bird.
The spur he's hanging from was a hair longer than the other and hooked just enough that he'd hang
From the truck. Note the eagles nest in the top of the cottonwood over my right shoulder. I didn't notice that the nest was occupied the previous day and the eagles thought 100 yards was too close. They circled above me making all kinds of racket until I was several hundred yards away. I steered clear of it the next two times I crossed the field.
After killing the above tom on Wednesday morning, I met a buddy in a different district on Wednesday evening to hunt some completely different terrain. These birds were in ponderosa pine country but they were acting similar to the riverbottom birds and we struggled to get a bird that would do more than gobble a few times then shut up. They'd gobble plenty on the roost, but a few hen yelps from their location later maybe a little drumming and the game was over. I don't like using the "henned up" excuse every time I don't kill a bird because I think the excuse gets used too often. However, I probably used that excuse more this week than I should have. The birds were just kicking my tail. If I can locate multiple birds in a day and there isn't one flopping pretty quick, I feel like I'm getting beat.
I just kept saying that what we needed was a good ole 2 yr old that was lonely to come running in like a fool. That always gets the spirits up. When we finally found one Friday evening at about 5:30 PM, I almost messed it up. We struck this bird and unlike the previous birds he gobbled at every sound I made, but after 10 minutes ( I know real patient huh) I was convinced that he hadn't budged and that the unfamiliar break in terrain in front of us was too steep and rocky and we needed to give him an easier route around the end to us. I jumped up, grabbed my buddy and said we need to move farther right toward the end of this sharp break in terrain to give us a better chance. We had moved about 50 yards toward the right into a small opening when the tom gobbled just over the edge at about 50 yards. I dove for the nearest treee and got my gun up.
My buddy who doesn't have quite the experience went for a tree a little too far away and was fiddling with his face mask way too much. I was freaking out watching him and watching for the tom when he finally got his gun up and the tom gobbled from about 30 yards. The tom topped the hill behind some trees, spotted me took a few steps and my buddy's gun roared. The tom looked hit but did some sort of wild spin and took off running. When he crossed the opening in front of me he was going down hill and I had one shot as his head began to disappear. I blew dirt and grass everywhere when I shot, but I did something right because the shot ended his escape. Whether it was a short run or run completely out of our lives, I'm not sure, but I wasn't taking any chances. I've been referring to this tom as "our bird".
18.9 lbs, 5/8" spurs, 8 1/2" beard
The next bird was killed saturday morning. I wasn't willing to shoot a jake, but my buddy hasn't killed many birds and I wasn't trying to talk him out of it.
Even these birds took a lot of moving set ups to get them across a deep cut in the terrain. I thought the lead couple birds may be two year olds but they just turned out to be a little bit bigger than the other four jakes.
