As the title of the thread suggests, I killed a pretty nice bird down in GA. However, to really tell the story of this bird we need to back things up a bit first. That's because this is more than just the story of one great bird, rather it's a story of anticipation, frustration, pain, persistence, and redemption. You know, all the things that make turkey hunting what it is.
AnticipationLast Wednesday I flew down to Savannah, GA for what was supposed to be the Trumpet Thumpers team hunt. However, several last minute cancellations meant that it would just be Del (savduck) and I hunting. While changing planes in Atlanta I got a text from Del saying he was ready to get in the woods as soon as I got there and that he'd had a half dozen or so birds gobbling hard on Sunday. With just two of us hunting it wasn't a question of getting a bird, it was how many each of us were going to kill. Things couldn't have looked better.
My flight landed around 11, I collected my bags (which all managed to show up with me), and I'm pretty sure we had the boat in the water no later than noon. We made the trip into the swamp and by 12:30 or so we struck out in search of some of the birds Del had located three days before. It didn't take long to find one. We had traveled maybe 100 yards from the boat when Del hit the crow call and got an immediate response. This hunt was off to a great start, and visions of filled GA tags danced in our heads. We quickly cut the distance to the bird and got set up in a nice oak flat. We never heard another peep out of that gobbler. What we didn't know at the time was that this was just a taste of things to come. We spent a couple hours hiking around in search of some of those previously hot birds but the woods were silent and we eventually had to retreat so we wouldn't get stranded by the falling tide. Once out on the main channel we headed upriver several miles trying to strike a gobble but had no luck. We did however see some truly large gators and occupied ourselves trying to get video footage of them. After all, it was only the first afternoon of the hunt and the morning would surely bring better luck.
FrustrationThe next morning we decided to try and get back in to the "honey hole" where we had started the previous afternoon. This was a bit of a gamble because we were going in very close to low tide and we weren't sure if we would make it or wind up stranded somewhere along the way. We were slowly making our way in when a couple yahoos came motoring up behind us and then blew past us in the narrow channel because apparently we weren't going fast enough for them. We could hear their boat crashing against stumps and logs long after it went out of sight. We did eventually make it to our destination but we now weren't sure exactly where the aforementioned yahoos had gone so we decided to hold back a bit to avoid walking up on them. As it turned out we very quickly located two hot gobblers, the only caveat being that they were on the other side of a 30 foot channel and on private ground. I set up near the water at the edge of a small clearing and across from and opening on their side of the water. Del sat deeper into the woods in the hopes that his calling might draw them over to our side and into gun range. The birds were clearly fired up, but they wouldn't work our way and eventually drifted off still gobbling. They may have hens or they may have just realized we were over the water and didn't want to make the effort.
We walked for a while sort of parallel to their direction of travel on our side of the channel but never did hear from them again. by mid morning we worked our way back up to the same general area where we had started from and sat down to do some blind calling. After sitting for probably close to an hour we got a very distant gobble. So distant that I didn't even hear it because it was slightly behind the tree I was leaning against. A second gobble a few minutes later was a bit closer and I got moved into position to cover the direction the bird was approaching from. A third gobble came from about 200 yards away, and shortly after that a fourth gobble from what couldn't have been much more than 100 yards. At this point I was expecting to see him slipping through the trees at any moment, instead he just vanished. We spent the rest of the day floating the river trying to locate a bird but the woods were dead other than a couple of squirrels and a barred owl that came to check us out. We got out of the swamp around 3 in the afternoon to beat the tide.
This video has some of the highlights of our two days in the swamp, you may notice however that it is completely devoid of turkeys:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=guQsRgp0Wgk Apologies for the shaky camera work, a lot of it was filmed free hand from a moving boat.
The complete lack of any response to our calls that afternoon was leaving us pretty burnt out on the swamp in general. Because there were only two of us, Del decided we should try some private land in the morning to give us a change of scenery. While the scenery did in fact change, the story was to remain much the same. We got on a gobbling bird pretty quickly about 100 yards from the edge of a field. We were still getting set up when a hen walked right up behind us but somehow she didn't bust us and continued past us into the field. Another hen came out into the field and things were looking really good with us now sitting in between the gobbler and the hens in the field, and very close to the roadway that he would probably use to make his entrance. Except that he didn't. We moved on him and tried to peak his interest from several different directions but he just stayed put and eventually went silent. A theme was developing.
We went back to the truck and decided to drive a bit farther into the property and check some other fields. On our way there we bumped what I was pretty sure was a strutting gobbler (later confirmed when we found his tracks), and then after we got parked we had a hen walk by as we were getting out of the truck. We spent some time walking around scouting and found some fresh tracks that seemed to show how the birds were using the fields. We had only planned to hunt the morning because of some other commitments, so we packed it in at about 11 which thankfully turned out to be just in time to avoid taking a bath in a real soaker of a rain storm.
Pain (and more frustration, so much more frustration)The next morning we got in early and made a quick attempt on the first bird we had heard the day before but he was no where to be found. We quickly moved to where we had bumped the strutter and found lots more fresh sign including tracks going in both directions and fresh strut marks from the previous afternoon. This was definitely the place to be, and since the birds were still showing no signs of wanting to dance we went into ambush mode. We knew they would show up eventually and were going to sit until we killed one. We set up in the wooded southwest corner where two laneways met in a four-way intersection, the other three quadrants of the intersection contained primarily open or brushy fields. We placed two DSD hens in the intersection and settled in. It wasn't long before we heard several birds gobbling off in the distance. They wouldn't answer any of our calls, but continued to gobble on their own for quite a while and seemed to be heading the way they expected. Eventually they shut up but we had faith they would make their way to us at some point.
Several hours passed and suddenly a hen let out a cutting sequence in the next field to our north. Our calls brought no response. Not long after though we heard a gobble from roughly the same location. Again, no response to our calls. Several minutes pass and I see two red heads at the end of the laneway that runs north. They see the decoys and start to come at a trot, dead birds walking. Or not. At 70 yards they cut the corner of the intersection and head off to the east in the direction of the truck, they never even broke stride. At this point it's been at least an hour or two since I've been able to feel my rear end and we decide to head back to the truck for some lunch. On the walk back there are fresh turkey tracks in our boot prints from that morning, they go all the way back to and right past the truck. We take a peek into the large field to our east and scatter several birds. Sigh.
After lunch we head back toward our ambush spot but we setup a little ways farther down along the northern laneway where the birds had come through earlier. There are tracks here going both ways and we figure the birds will come back through sometime in the afternoon on their way to roost. It's now about 3 in the afternoon and the temperature and humidity have both skyrocketed. We decide to sit down in the shade and relax for a few minutes, figuring the birds won't be coming back through for at least a couple hours. So there we sit, in the shade of the pines, boots off, socks drying out on a branch, guns propped on the trees next to us, (you know where this is going...) and I just happen to look up and watch a nice big long beard materialize from around a bush 80 yards out in the brushy field next to us. Of course he spots us immediately and slams on the brakes. He can't quite figure out what he's looking at, but he knows he doesn't like it and slowly retreats back the way he came. Nothing to do but laugh at ourselves on that one. We quickly get hidden since we know there are still plenty of other birds wandering around, but as it turns out we sat until 8:30 that evening and saw exactly zero birds.
Let me just say at this point that although it's not my favorite method of hunting I've sat out birds here in NY on more than one occasion. However, here in NY we are only allowed to hunt until noon which puts a merciful end to that sort of madness before it becomes too tedious. Sitting for 11 or 12 hours like that is not something I ever hope to repeat, I'm not sure by butt is ever going to fully recover as is.
Persistence (and some leftover pain)Now it's Sunday morning and I need to be at the airport at 3 in the afternoon. We were supposed to be sleeping in today, maybe meeting for a late breakfast where we could reminisce over our conquests before I departed for home. Instead, we found ourselves once again headed to the turkey woods. Our plan was to head to the north field where we had heard the gobble the day before and where most of the birds seemed to be congregating in the morning. We made a slight detour to a gobbling bird but he went silent and we could hear a few more back in the woods but in the general direction of where we had intended to set up so we booked it over there and got in position. We set out the DSD's again and had intended to set out a strutter jake, but hadn't located it the night before. Instead we used a gobbler fan and tied it to a stick and stuck in in the decoys. Pretty quickly we had a hen show up, but it was pretty open where I was sitting and she spooked and got out of Dodge. I quickly cut a few branches to enhance my concealment and settled back in. We once again heard gobbling but nothing really working toward us.
After an hour our butts were in full revolt, having not recovered from the previous days torture. We got up and were going to fall back to our ambush spot, but decided to investigate the eastern edge of the field we were in because we couldn't quite see it from where we were and some gobbling had been coming from that general direction. We found some sign but not a lot, but there were some fresh tracks in a lane that led further east to one isolated field which we hadn't visited the previous two days.
As we approached the field I spotted a hen that was crossing the field headed in our direction. About this time a couple squirrels took offense at our presence and cut loose with all kinds of racket which brought the hen to a dead stop. We were stuck and didn't have a lot of good options other than to wait her out and see what her next move would be. Then it happened, the "miracle crow". A lone crow sailed over the field and let out a single caw. Immediately and unseen gobbler boomed back from somewhere in the middle of the field. About this time the squirrels shut up and the hen started toward us again. We need to get hidden and fast, and this hen would probably drag the gobbler right to us. There was a little berm of dirt next to us and it would give us a good place to hide, but the hen had other ideas. She was coming too quickly, and there was no way we could get ourselves into position fast enough. Del was a couple steps off the lane and I was right on the shoulder when I saw the hen about to step around the corner. I did the only thing I could and flattened out on my stomach right where I was kneeling while Del made like a tree.
The hen started to walk up the lane and got within 10 or 15 feet of me before she started to get a little nervous about the funny log by the side of the road. She turned and made a quick retreat toward the field. The gobbler had now come into view on the top of a small rise in the field and it seemed like this was all going to head south on us pretty quickly. This time luck was finally in our favor though, and the hen only ran about twenty yards into the field and then cut a hard right and ran off into the woods adjacent to us. The gobbler watched her go but was preoccupied with his strutting and didn't spook. We needed to make something happen and make it happen fast.
RedemptionDel started to crawl up on the little mound of dirt where he could hopefully provide an over watch and I took the fan on the stick and started belly crawling for the field. As I got close to the field I could see that the gobbler was starting to pick up on my movement so I popped up the fan and kept it in front of me as I crawled. He could also hear Del crawling around in the leaves so Del hit him with some hard cutting which got his attention and drew an immediate gobble. I made one last push and got myself out into the open and as soon as he got a good clear look at that fan it was on. He gave one last gobble, dropped strut, and broke into a dead run toward the rival that was daring to challenge him on his turf. I got my gun up into position, balancing it on my left hand which was also trying to keep the fan in position to conceal my position.
I've never wanted a third hand more than I did right then but somehow I managed to keep the fan upright and balanced over top of the red-dot on my 870. The bird pulled up at what I guessed to be just under 40 yards, but I was having a tough time with depth perception laying flat on my stomach and peering under the tail fan. It didn't look like I was going to get a better chance though so I got the sights on him, slid my finger onto the trigger, and gently squeezed... GAHHHHH! FORGOT THE SAFETY!!! At this point the bird was rapidly reassessing the phantom tail fan floating around in front of him and was thinking about making his exit. He took a few steps to my right and a few more would put him out of my line of sight. I quickly reached up and flicked the safety with the side of my finger, settled the sights again, and this time sent a swarm of angry 6's at him before he could fully recognize the magnitude of his error. He went down like a ton of bricks at what I later paced out to be 35 yards.
The celebration began immediately, and when I got him up in the air and watched three beards dangle of his chest our excitement went through the roof. We got some photos and then had to get out of there so I could get to the airport. Four hours later I was going through the security checkpoint (still smiling) and my all time personal best bird was at the taxidermist. The hardest part is going to be waiting another 8 months or more to lay eyes on him again. In closing I'd just like to say a huge 'Thanks!' to Del for sticking it out with me until the very end. He was a great host, and I had a blast hunting and hanging out with him. He's just one of the most decent all around people you could hope to meet, and I hope we get to share more hunts together in the future.
Final stats:
20lbs 1oz
1" and 1 1/8" spurs
11 1/8", 9 1/2" and 8 1/2" beards
Total score: 99.5625
