My cousin Heath and I headed out to Texas last Thursday to try our luck on the Rios for a few days. The weather wasn't the greatest and the birds weren't very vocal, but we managed to whack a few nice toms.
We rolled in around 12am Friday morn and hit the hay around 1am for a short nap before our 1st morning hunt. I don't think I had hit the pillow good when the alarm went off at 4:30, but there were turkeys to be chased so we gathered our gear and headed out. To say the wind was bad that first morn would be an understatement, it was 40mph with 50+ gust! I drew a map to some roost trees around a pond and pointed Heath in the right direction before daylight. I decided to hunt a field edge on the opposite side of the small property in hopes to find some birds hunkering down out of the intense wind. After daylight a few birds picthed out in the field and did their best to fight the wind as they pecked around some small clumps of trees, but calling was pretty useless. I never could get them to pay me any attention, so I tried alittle stalking and despite having some nice toms in range, I just never got a clear shot. Heath had 3 birds roosted near his setup that morn, but the larger of the 3 pitched out and headed away and the other two birds turned out to be a jake and a hen. After the ridiculous attempt to hunt in the gail force winds, we decided we'd have much better luck catching up on some shuteye back at the motel. That afternoon we woke to fierce winds again, so we decided to head down to a local steak house and come up with a plan over a juicy sirloin. I told Heath we oughta ride back out to the property and glass for a while in hopes to find a flock heading for the roost late that eve. As we got to the property, we spotted a small flock in the neighbors cow pasture and noticed one was trying to strut in the strong wind. I told Heath I had a pretty good idea where those rascals were headed, so we pulled into the property, grabbed our gear, and headed in. While walking to a small food plot we spotted the flock on our side of the fence and gaining ground, so we humped it in the brush to get ahead of them and set up along the small food plot behind some piles of sand along the creek. As we sat down the birds came into view and we saw that there was just the one tom in the group. I'd already taken a couple nice Rios this year, so it was Heath's shot if the tom got in range. Heath threw out some sweet talk on a Cody slate, but they weren't interested and the hens walked back into the brush. That tom must have had a death wish as he just stayed out in the food plot and didn't follow the hens. I see Heath hunker down to slip around the back side of the dirt pile and knew he was in the ole Mohican Sneakin' mode. All of the sudden the tom starts looking around wondering where his ladies went and heads across the plot right twds Heath's locale
He hit 55yds and turned to Heath's right, so it was now or never. I heard the 870 bark and the tom cut a flip. Heath's running my hevi 7 loads and knows his effective range, so it wasn't a poke-n-pray type shot. The toms head was chewed up and his neck was broken at the base of the waddles. Despite the winds of day one, we scored a nice tom. Maybe not your traditional hunt, but sometimes you have to do what ya gotta do to outsmart these rascals.
Heath's bird tipped the scales at 22.5lbs, sported a 9-3/4" beard, 1-1/16" & 1" spurs:
On day 2 we were greeted with cool temps in the low 30s and no wind to speak of. You could hear toms far in the distance at daybreak, but none that we could make a move on. We ended up hunting hard all day long and never laid eyes on any birds until dark that evening.
Day 3 started alittle windy again, but nothing like the fierce winds of day 1, so we kept an open mind. There wasn't any birds in one of my honey holes, but there was a flock in the same creek Heath got his bird in the first afternoon. I ended up pulling a spot and stalk on them and it turned out to be a nice tom that was covered in ladies. I sealed the deal at around 50yds. Not much of a story to it, more of a right place right time sort of deal. My bird flopped around in a creek after the shot and looked sort of like he'd been through the washing machine, so I only have pics of his beard and his hooks. He was a pretty nice tom coming in at 21lbs, 9-13/16" beard, and 1-5/16" spurs.
Later that morn Heath and I hunted together and got on a couple nice toms gobbling in a field, but they never would commit. We decided to head back to the motel for a nap, then try an evening hunt. As we drove back to the property there was another flock of birds in the same pasture as day 1 and I told Heath we better do the same thing again, let's hit the creek and see if they come on our place again. We found a place in the creek bottom where the flock on day 1 had walked a sandy bank above the creek. Heath and I hunkered down by a big cottonwood tree and I slipped in a diaphram. I let out a few yelps, but I'm sure it was another right place right time set-up as the whole flock came down the same trail as the flock did on day one with the big guy leading the pack. When the tom hit 47yds, I was pretty sure the rest were just jakes and hens, so I told Heath to take that rascal before we got busted. That dude never knew what hit him
17lbs, 9" bd, 1-1/8" spurs:
After we cleaned Heath's tom, I told Heath we oughta roll down to the other end of the property and throw out a few hoots to see if any birds were around. I threw out a few hoots and Baam! He hammers, so I hit him a couple more times to zero on his locale.
We woke up early yesterday morn, packed all our gear, and headed out to make a quick hunt where we roosted the tom. We got in way before daylight and couldn't have picked a better spot to set up. I put a hen decoy in the field, we hunkered down by a big cottonwood, and listened to mother nature awake. As light filled the field a hen yelped about 75-80s from us. We'd walked right by them and gotten lucky not to bust the flock. I gave them a few tree yelps on a diaphram and just let the hens talk from then on. We never heard a gobble from the limb, but we knew he was in there. When it was good light the hens started pitching out right in front of us maybe 25yds out. That big rascal was in a tree about 80yds to our left, never made a peep while the hens talked. He couldn't take it any longer and glided out to ole Peggy Sue. He hit the ground at 28yds and I flat tore up his noggin with a load of hevi 7s. I like those quick hunts every now and then
Another tom fired off after the shot, so we hunkered down in hopes to get Heath a shot. He was on fire, but out of sight from our setup. I hit him with some cutts and he ate it up, but the hens we spooked at the shot were getting out of Dodge and he started their direction. I hit him hard with some more cuts, he slammed on the brakes and started running right back to us. I thought it was fixin to happen, we might squeeze out a double on the last morn, but it was too soon to count the chickens as 6 more hens hit the field running and took that rascal straight away from us. My tom turned out to be a bruiser, he weighed in at 19lbs, had a 9" beard, and 1-3/8" hooks:
We were on the road by 8am. I just can't think of a better way to end the 2011 season.
Looks like it's time to blow the dust off the bass tackle and get the boat ready.
Good Luck to all of you fellas still chasing them.
Have a good one,
Reloader
