Bird you suffered the most for?

[busta biggun]

I was curious about what lengths other hunters will go through to get a bird. I would do just about anything as long as it is ethical. One year I was hunting near Bumpus Mills, TN. I had a bird that would gobble at just about every call I made, but he would never come in. I lived in Nashville, about three hours away, so I usually only hunted mornings. This happened several times until I decided I HAVE to kill this bird!!!! I knew where he roosted and I knew he wouldn't come to loud yelping, so I went out at 1:00 in the afternoon. set up in a small clearing by his roosting area and decided I would wait him out. I sat there, and sat....and sat.....and only scratched leaves and did light clucks every 15 minutes or so. I sweated my butt off! I didn't bring enough water so I got totally parched. I lost my bug spray so I was getting eaten up by skeeters and ticks,....but I knew he was around somewhere and was determined to beat him! I watched as mushroom hunters walked through the trail. After 3 hours two idiots came screaming through on 4 wheelers. I just sat there and sweated. And suffered. And scratched. And waited. After 4 or 5 hours I started getting to where I was seeing things, and hearing things. I resisted the temptation to call loud to get a gobble. I just kept up with the leaf scratching and light clucks. I had memorized every branch in my area and suddenly I saw a "new" black stick poking up between some trees. I kept staring at it for at least 5 minutes. It never moved a millimeter! I knew it wasn't there before but it had to be a stick to be so motionless for so long. I used my mouth caller to make some soft clucks. To my astonishment, that stick started turning pink, then red, and finally full gobbler neon! He slowly took one tiny step every minute or so coming in and out of sight between trees. The mosquitoes were drilling my blood dry but I didn't move. That was one cautious bird. After about 20 long minutes of this he stepped from behind a tree, right where I hoped he would at about 15 yards and I drilled him. It was past 6:30 at night. I was never so happy to get a bird in my life. I definitely felt like I earned that sucker and the satisfaction I got from outsmarting this old dude was the best feeling I ever had hunting!!! He wasn't the best bird I ever shot but he was a beauty! 11.5 inch beard and inch spurs. I know I am not the only one who goes to crazy lengths to kill a bird. What are some of your stories?

[Cleveland48]

Awesome!


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

[chcltlabz]

I'm loving these threads lately...  Keeps me busy between the seasons.

Here's the one I'd say I suffered the most for.  I was hunting the Black Hills and it was cold and rainy.  The birds out there REALLY hated the rain.  Snow didn't bother them a bit, but the rain really threw them for a loop.  Some of them wouldn't even leave the roost all day.  Well, the second day of the rains, I had hiked way in on top of a mountain, at least by my standards.  I got all the way to the top and saw a flock of birds all the way down the back side in a green field.  Well, they were the only game in town, so down I went after them.  I was in no way dressed for constant rain and finally managed to get in front of these birds and shot one after belly crawling to a small grove of trees where they were headed.  Had to pick cactus spines out of my knees with prunes for fingers.  Figure that one out.  It was then that I realized the only way to get back to the truck without trespassing was back up the mountain through the greasy clay.  It was quite an ordeal at first and I wasn't sure I was going to make it up the first incline, but I finally got to the top.  I was soaked, muddy and freezing.  I'd say I had a touch of hypothermia, because when I looked down, I wasn't sure which spine I had to go down to get to the truck.  I was very confused, and even got a bit panicky, but luckily I picked the right one and made it down to the parking area.

I don't even have any pictures with that bird because between the two of us, we were a mud soaked, smelly pile of feathers and wrinkled skin.

[tha bugman]

oh thats an easy one to remember...killed a bird...and ran up to him...as soon as I got there I blew my ACL out and tore my miniscus.  I slid in the leaves right up to him and me and him both were flopping on the ground.  The pain was excruciating.  Hunted like that the rest of the season.  Had a trip to Texas scheduled in a week so no surgery for me.  We would hunt til lunch..come back to the room ice both knees enough to get the swelling down then back at it in the afternoon.  Finally had surgery on it a year later.

[BrowningGuy88]

The bird I suffered most for is a tough one! I've hunted one all day everyday for a week before killing him. I've killed them in storms and bad wind.

I guess the most suffering I ever had on a turkey hunt was the first bird I killed in the 2005 season. My grandfather had a heart attack at 1:00 AM March 15th which is opening day in Alabama so naturally we were at the hospital opening morning. He had open heart surgery that afternoon and was in the hospital four days afterwards. The evening we brought him home I asked him where he wanted me to start with the chores the next morning and he said the fences but only after you go hunting. See we never before then or since had missed an opening day together since I was 6 years old. March 21st found me in the old familiar Big Swamp on the wet ground beside a big White Oak. I got the first gobble a good 30 minutes before fly down and worked the old Tom until right at 8:00 when I saw him close a gap between two cypress trees in full strut. I shot him with my grandad's 1300 with Win HV 5's and folded him up. As I watched him roll at the shot it sank in that this might actually be the beginning of the end of my turkey hunting career because there was no joy in it that morning it was just killing business. I sat on a cypress log with it drizzling rain, gun in my lap, dead gobbler at my feet and cried like a baby.

Luckily my grandfather survived just fine and we hunt together every chance we get and I still enjoy the game we play with the turkeys.


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

[Hooksfan]

One bird stands out in my mind.  I was taking a Doctor turkey hunting on one of my spots.  I knew I had to be at school and would have to leave early, so I told the Dr. that I was going to put him on the hot spot on the place and I would hunt an area where the birds occasionally roosted overlooking a creek that was on about a 60 foot bluff, and was in an area I could leave when I needed to and still not interfere with his hunt. 
Right about gobbling time, I was anxiously awaiting the birds to get fired up over by the Doc, and hoping he would get his bird.  About that time, a great blue heron flew down the creek behind me and let out a squawk and a turkey no more than 60 yards straight behind me about blew the hat off my head with a gobble.  I'm thinking to myself that the Doc is gonna think I pulled a typical turkey hunter trick on him.  I kept waiting for the birds to gobble by him and heard nothing but silence over his way as the bird behind me gobbled non stop for the next 30 minutes.  I was too close to do much calling at all and only did some light purrs and clucks till he hit the ground.  He was very slow about coming in, and right about the time I could see his fan on the ridge behind me, a coyote popped into the field and headed for my decoy.    I knew the turkey couldn't see the yote yet, so I waved my hand behind my back to spook the yote just as the tom showed his head at about 15 steps.  At the shot, the tom couldn't respond like a normal dead turkey and flop in one place, no sir......he started doing the traveling flopping thing and just as I made it to him, he went right over the edge of the bluff and tumbled down and splashed right into the creek.
I am standing there looking down into the creek at my dead turkey 60 feet below and I determined I didn't have time to walk around the long way to the bird, but rather I would just go down the same way he did. The first 40 feet or so was on about an 80 degree angle.  My plan was to slide down it and slow my descent by grabbing onto strategically located saplings on the way down.  The first 40 feet went as planned.  I was somewhat surprised at the velocity I had accrued, but nothing to be alarmed about until..... the tierra firma below me disappeared and just formed a ledge about 15 feet above the creek.  At this point, I realized the laws of physics had conspired against me and that I had basically just descended a 45 foot ramp that was about to catapult me into the creek below.  I figure I was only free falling for a second or two, but it sure seemed a lot longer to cover those 15 feet to the creek.  By some divine intervention, I landed in the only non-rock/boulder strewn area on the creek  and landed right next to the turkey and sunk to my waist in the mud and water--no major physical injuries to speak of.
I was somewhat worried that the Doctor wouldn't believe me that I really did put him in the best spot. I saw him a week later when I had to visit for an appointment and I was relieved to see he was all smiles and wanted to know about the story and the turkey feather on his windshield.  I am still kind of perplexed on why he insisted on conducting a prostate exam, though.

[spaightlabs]

I had a bird in Nebraska that I suffered immensely for.

I ate McDonalds and Taco Bell on the same day while hunting that son of a gun.  There is no way anyone could suffer worse than that. 

[Happy]

Had a bird coming to my calling get intercepted by a hen about 150 yards out in a field. I spent 4.5 hours on my stomach crawling after them. By the time I got to him he had picked up 4 or 5 more hens. Shot the bugger at 20 yards in that field. Had covered about 250 yards in that time. It was personal when I pulled the trigger on him.

[tomstopper]

Last year while hunting with me my nephew and I were calling a big gobbler in from 80yards out and across an open hayfield. I had told my nephew that when the bird got to a certain tree with a "V' in it, that he was with in range. It took that bird 45 mins to close the distance to that tree and he was gobbling the whole way. Almost as soon as that bird hit that tree, he dropped out of full strut and tucked his wings and began to putt and run around. By the time my nephew heard me telling him to shoot the bird was into the brush and wasn't presenting him with a clear shot so he didn't shoot. As I sat there wondering what had spooked him so bad, I seen this guy stand up on the logging road off to my left and about 30 yards away from us. Turns out it was the landowners nephew and he had heard the gobbling and seen the gobbler strutting but somehow never heard my calling. Needless to say he got an ear full from me about ethics and about how unsafe he was along with some few choice words that I wont write on here. Funny thing is that he told his uncle and got his butt chewed when he thought his uncle was going to have his back. Wish my nephew would have got that bird but instead e got a first hand lesson on how some idiots act and why its so important to always put safety first and not take clear shots.

[beakbuster10]

I roosted three gobblers last season. The next morning my hunting partner and I arrived 2 hours before sunlight and went into stealth mode to slip in on the gobblers. We covered about 300 yards in 1.5 hours. It ended being a foggy morning and they didn't touch down for a little over an hour after sunrise. Forgot our thermacells so the mosquitos ate us alive. After working the gobblers for a the better part of an hour, two more gobblers came from behind us and were silent until they were about 100 yards. We ended up just killing one of the birds, but he was a good one. Triple beard 10,4.5, 4 1.25 spurrs and 21 pounds.


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

[Macbee25]

I spent 2.5 hours playing musical tree with a gobbler. I would get up after 30 minutes or so and try to flank him, only to have him go where I was. This went on for 3 times, I was getting so frustrated well I heard some leaves crackle right behind me so I froze. Out of my peripheral vision I noticed a turkey coming up the trail beside me. It was a hen, I then heard the gobbler about 50 yds behind her. I knew if she busted me it was game over. She walked within 2ft on my left side and stopped to stare at me ( I could have petted her) The gobbler gobbled again and I thought Ill never get turned around. I had to waid for her to finally get out of site before I slowly eased my head around. I couldnt see him, so I lighting yelped and he lit up about 50 yds again but couldnt see him ( central texas has thick cedars) I quietly spun around and got in position. He finally came up the trail but suspected something, I can see him through the cedars. He was 20 yds now, and had decided he wasn't coming anymore. Well a 12 gauge shotgun with 3 inch number 5's will make a hole through a cedar tree CHECKMATE. well I have pictures somewhere  , but he had 3 beards 11 1/2, 9 1/4, 8. I was going to throw him over my shoulder and walk back to the truck, well he weighed 24 pounds so I said Nah. Ill go get the truck and come back to get him. I felt like I was playing a game, and I won. Lol

[Tail Feathers]

I've been worn down from long walks and some hill climbs, wet and skeeter-bit more than once but generally speaking, I've been largely pain free during my turkey hunting.

[kjnengr]

My story is very similar to chcltlabz.  A couple of buddies and I went to South Dakota one year.  After the first 4-5 hours of the first morning hunt, the rain began.  For two days, we sat next to trees in the near freezing rain and wind.  Every time we moved to a different property, we took off our gloves and facemasks and put them on the heater vents in the truck to warm them up and dry them out.  Finally, on the last evening the weather broke.  The sun came out and the wind started blowing - hard.  Miraculously, some birds showed up in the field we were hunting, but wouldn't commit.  We had to belly crawl about 100 yards to a draw where we could sneak up around them.  Being that our trip was coming to an end, we decided to pull a double if the birds allowed it.  Once we got reasonably close, the birds started participating and the guy I was hunting with and I ended up both getting a bird. 

Those stories make the most vivid memories though. 

[OldSchool]

I didn't realise how many birds I've actually suffered for before this thread got me thinking about it, but there's one that stands out and It's similar to tha bugmans. I had surgery on my left knee about a month before the spring season and had the right one done a week before the opener. I would have put it off til after season, but they were so bad I could hardly get around on them. The left knee was better but still pretty sore and the right one was still mighty tender.

I'd leave the house extra early and gimp up the hill on two bad legs to a hollow stump in a hedgerow a few hundred yards from the house. I've killed a few birds from it over the years and my knees would hurt so bad by the time I got there that I was happy to stop. I was hearing birds most mornings, but they were far enough away that I figured they'd be flying back up to roost before I could limp close enough to try to call them, so I'd stay put hoping eventually one would wander out into the field.

I got a late start several days into the season and as I limped up to the old fenceline before the hedgerow starts, I stopped and made a call before I "snuck" up over the crest. A bird gobbled just out of site on the other side and without thinking I dropped to my knees behind a small bush. When my knees hit the ground doubled up under 180 pounds, I wanted to scream. I rolled over onto my side and straightened out my legs, but my knees hurt so bad I just layed there for a minute swearing under my breath.

About this time the turkey gobbled again, closer this time and reminded me why I was out there laying in a field, when I was supposed to be sitting on the couch with my feet up icing my knees. I got myself wadded up against a fencepost just in time to see a red head come into sight. It was within range, but our regs state bearded birds only and I couldn't see anything but his head and neck now. He started to swing to my right and as he did, he gained a little more elevation and I could see his beard. By the time I pulled the trigger, my knees hurt so bad I could hardly stand it.

There was no jumping up and running to this one. I pulled myself up with the fencepost so I could cover him just in case and stood there for a while waiting for the pain to let up enough to walk over to him. I eventually brought him back to where I shot from, laid him down and sat down with my back to the fencepost, legs stretched out in front of me. It was only a couple hundred back yards back to the house, but it seemed like a mile.

I messed my knees up so bad when I went down on them that I couldn't get back out til the last few days of season. He was the only bird I got that year. I'd love to be able to tell you after all the pain and suffering that he had a 12" beard and 1 1/2" spurs, but he didn't. He was a two year old and I couldn't have been happier with him.

Bob 

[Gooserbat]

Long story short, I sat in a fire ant den and got ate up.  He was a Jake and didn't flop much.