Post by ozark on Feb 10, 2008 19:45:46 GMT -5
I never was much of a shotgunner and didn't understand the excitement turkey hunters showed when talking turkey. My thoughts were that blasting a bird with a scatter gun was not the greatest accomplishment in the hunting world.
As the season approached (I forget the year) I decided that I would climb into my tree house deer stand and try opening morning. I didn't know much about the calling but had a lynch box call my brother had given me. I knew how to make it squawk and make other noises. I had bought a little outfit that attached to the barrel of a shotgun and made another noise when a string was pulled.
Just as it was coming daylight I climbed into my tree house and got my gun loaded and a little butane stove turned on to chase the chill away.
I got out the box call and feeling half embarrassed, made what they told me was a series of yelps. I was shocked when at about two hundred yards east of me a gobbler sounded off. WOW, I gave another series of uneducated yelps and he answered right back with perfect timing. By now, I was excited and expected that he would fly across the hollow to me or else come running. That was around 7:00 AM. It was back and forth between us for awhile and the idiot decided to go south gobbling as he went. I was really working that box trying to turn him back. But he faded out of my hearing which wasn't that good anyway. My hopes dropped and I sit there a few minutes wondering what I had done to send him away. After a space I decided to call again and the rascal answered. Slowly, he came kind of toward me but more toward the west. I called, he answered, he gobbled and I answered and the clock kept ticking away the time. Finally, around 10:00 AM I spotted the dude on a ledge south of me in full strut. He looked as big and black as a bear. I tried to slow down my calling but that only seemed to make him gobble more as I watched him strut back and fourth. Finally, a hawk started pestering him and each time it darted down he would make a weird noise. He then walked off the ledge and in a direction that would put him west of me. I watched him travel west of me out of range and it looked like he was going to leave the area. I decided to give him a good send off with that string call attached to the gun barrel. When he heard that he gobbled and headed down the hill directly toward me. I shouldered the shotgun and waited until he was twenty yards and clear of brush and aimed at his purple looking head and fired. He started flopping and kicking until he was almost directly under my tree house.
There he gave up the ghost and I became hooked on this sport.
Since that three hour plus interaction morning, I have killed a lot of gobblers and have had experienced many great hunts. But it helps to be hooked. Ben
As the season approached (I forget the year) I decided that I would climb into my tree house deer stand and try opening morning. I didn't know much about the calling but had a lynch box call my brother had given me. I knew how to make it squawk and make other noises. I had bought a little outfit that attached to the barrel of a shotgun and made another noise when a string was pulled.
Just as it was coming daylight I climbed into my tree house and got my gun loaded and a little butane stove turned on to chase the chill away.
I got out the box call and feeling half embarrassed, made what they told me was a series of yelps. I was shocked when at about two hundred yards east of me a gobbler sounded off. WOW, I gave another series of uneducated yelps and he answered right back with perfect timing. By now, I was excited and expected that he would fly across the hollow to me or else come running. That was around 7:00 AM. It was back and forth between us for awhile and the idiot decided to go south gobbling as he went. I was really working that box trying to turn him back. But he faded out of my hearing which wasn't that good anyway. My hopes dropped and I sit there a few minutes wondering what I had done to send him away. After a space I decided to call again and the rascal answered. Slowly, he came kind of toward me but more toward the west. I called, he answered, he gobbled and I answered and the clock kept ticking away the time. Finally, around 10:00 AM I spotted the dude on a ledge south of me in full strut. He looked as big and black as a bear. I tried to slow down my calling but that only seemed to make him gobble more as I watched him strut back and fourth. Finally, a hawk started pestering him and each time it darted down he would make a weird noise. He then walked off the ledge and in a direction that would put him west of me. I watched him travel west of me out of range and it looked like he was going to leave the area. I decided to give him a good send off with that string call attached to the gun barrel. When he heard that he gobbled and headed down the hill directly toward me. I shouldered the shotgun and waited until he was twenty yards and clear of brush and aimed at his purple looking head and fired. He started flopping and kicking until he was almost directly under my tree house.
There he gave up the ghost and I became hooked on this sport.
Since that three hour plus interaction morning, I have killed a lot of gobblers and have had experienced many great hunts. But it helps to be hooked. Ben
