Was finally able to put together the story from my bird over the weekend. It’s a long one so I won’t be offended if most don’t read. I’m planning on continuing the story in my blog that I write for my personal record. Feel free to follow along. Enjoy!
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What a weekend. Preparation and all of the planning gets paid off with not only a blast of a weekend with good company, but a couple of birds in camp. How much time you got? Because this weekend could be a book.
I left Thursday around noon, hoping to get up to camp around 2:30pm. Thursday night’s supper was venison steaks and backstrap provided by myself. Luckily, all of the prep work was done before leaving. So the plan was to head up to camp, unload sleeping bags and clothes, and jump into the truck and try to find a bird or sign for the next day.
After unloading, I did just that. Hopped into the truck and hit the woods. A few guys in camp had tipped me off to a few spots to check out, so I prioritized from the intel and went to work. The property is about 200,000+ acres of public land woods. So there is quite the large area to work with and spots are constantly changing. Thursday was a beautiful day. About 68 degrees and partially sunny for the afternoon. First spot check consisted of walking a calling with some locators mixed in. About a mile and a half later, no dice so I went back to the truck.
The next spot on the list was one that I previously had seen some birds around, but also had a long ATV path to walk and call. So I headed there, got all of my gear on and hit the woods. Calling, locating, nothing. But as I continued down the path, sign started to show in the sands of the ATV trail. Then droppings. Slowing way down I started to listen harder, and use my eyes more often. Coming to corners and little rises, always making calls just in case one was just out of sight.
Just as a turn was approaching, I heard something. Squirrel, deer, or scratching? Stopping and taking a look around, focusing towards the noise, there is movement. Dropping to a knee and grabbing my binoculars, I see a fan. He must be only 50 yards away, but too thick unless I make the corner. I try desperately to crawl into a covered position without making too much noise and try to cover every movement with scratching of my own. Then some light clucks and yelps. Nothing. Not even a spit and drum. About 20 minutes pass without any response, so I decide to get up and take a peak. There he is. Working his way away from me down the edge slowly.
Feeling defeated but not out of the game, I bring open my maps and try to formulate a plan. About five minutes pass, and I hear a distant gobble. Must be over 100 yards away, but in a different direction from where the other bird was traveling. Immediately I let off a few excited cuts and yelps from my mouth call. Immediate response. But this time, it was TWO gobbles. Frantically I search and find a location to set up, looking in the direction the calls came from. Sitting patiently, scratching every so often, not making a single call. Then, two booming gobbles which can’t be more than 50 yards away directly through the hardwoods. Heart racing, I respond with the same excited yelps and cuts from the previous call. They both answer immediately cutting me off and gobbling over each other.
My gun is in position, my heart is racing, and I’m sitting a quiet as I can possibly sit. Scratching, drumming, I can hear them coming. Closer and closer, but I can only see about 15 yards. Then, a head appears from around one of the large trees. One more step, there is his beard. I pull the trigger and he falls backwards flopping.
Sure of the shot but just in case I needed a follow up, I run towards the bird flopping as the other tom runs off through the thick cover. A successful season with a bird down at around 5:00pm. No more than two hours into the hunting weekend.
I’ll be continuing the story of the turkey camp weekend in my blog next week. As indicated in the first paragraph, another bird story is coming.