The Demise of the Season (More Venting)

[missed mallards]

Venting in a story, carry on.

The Demise of the Season

The spring of 2012 has been the most action packed season I can remember. From the first gobble heard on the eve of March 15 to the last putt on this past Saturday eve; I’ve experienced more ups and downs than most experience in Disney World. I traveled and hunted in some 6 different counties, crossed more creeks and jumped more down tree’s than I can remember, and have seen the woods go from a ghostly sight to a lush backdrop of flowering blooms and beautiful greens. I woke up more times at 4 am this spring than ever, and missed just a handful of days chasing the longbeards of which filled my dreams at night. A spring season that finally took its toll.

From March 15, until April 14, 2012, I was obsessed. I would wake every morning, jump in my truck, and head off into the black forest in hopes of just one more gobble. I would leave the woods later in the day just hoping the day would end to redo the next morning and give chase again. It was a cycle. It was the desire to kill that drove me. It was that moment, for maybe just a few mere seconds, when my heart would race, my gun would slightly wobble from my body showing its excitement that kept me going back. It was also the desire to kill that drove me beyond a point of just letting it go.

From the beginning of the season until this past Saturday, I had 11 birds within 40 yards. I had the home site bird at 6 steps, I had the hollow gobbler at 40, the boss at 15, and countless others all within a flick of the trigger. On March 10th, I purchased 10 shells, today; I have in my possession 10 shells. The season was, without a doubt, the most "@#$%#" up season I could dream up. In all honesty, I couldn’t have even dreamed up the hunts that took place as the ends were all the same, but the stories were never even close. With a bird at 6 yards, and not being able to shoot, well that should tell you how the season went.

It all never bothered me until the morning of April 13, yes, Friday the 13th. It all started out as most do, the alarm sounded at 4:00 am, my buddy arrived to pick me up at 4:15, and by 5:50 I was unloading my gear from my buddy’s truck. At 5:51, I realized I would not be hunting alone when my buddy began to suit up, and being it was his land; I had no objection with my buddy tagging along. He made a valid point, I could just focus on shooting, and being I hadn’t got a kill all year he’d just call. That was, until 6:03 when I let out a series of hoots that lit the woods up like a Christmas tree on town square. The hill top bird sang his tune, the creek bird answered, and the twins slammed back. At 6:05, we had 6 different birds all within 300 yards of one another. By 6:06, it seemed we had sprinted a mile straight down the long hill and descended into the creek bed. At 6:11, the first bird had hit the ground.

The next 15 minutes were the longest I have ever spent in any section of forest in my life. By 6:15, the bird was drumming like no other I had heard all season. My hopes were high, my trigger finger itched, and I made the decision to turn just slightly to position for the shot. I hadn’t even began my turn when my buddy began whispering “Don’t move, don’t move.” At this time, I sat my gun in my lap, leaned back against the tree and just shook my head.

To be honest, you would have thought I had just shot a priest or something. My buddy was just in an uproar. Yes, the turkey was still drumming, yes, he was in full strut, and yes he was standing “right there”. For 10 minutes, I watched the old “creek ghost” walk back and forth, back and forth, on the small finger adjacent to us in full strut. My buddy never could see him. Not once, did he ever see the bird some 15 yards from us drumming and spitting. I heard more “Where’s?” in those 10 minutes than I have ever heard in my entire life. The only thing I could say is simply “Right "@#$%#" there, 15 yards, due west”. There were 14 questions on “where”, 14 questions same responses. Then I heard it, he had to make him gobble, and the 3 yelps sent the bird packing and me laughing.

A few seconds had past, when 43 steps away, a blue head appeared with him showing off his brilliantly bronzed fan. 43 steps, I know, because for the second time that morning I was asked not to move, and once again set my gun back in my lap. After he walked off, I stood up, and walked straight to where I had him dead to rights, 43 steps. Number 10, had walked off, and there I stood with a temper boiling.

My season ended the following day. The Creek Ghost answered me the next morning when I hit a lick on my flute. Long story short, never got a chance. My plan wasn’t elaborate enough I guess? I’m still not sure why we couldn’t just go along with it, but it’d be too easy and no shooting him off the limb wasn’t in it. Long story short that was all it took. This was twice in a damn row. Then Saturday evening, we sat, for 5 hours on a cushion that I will no longer own, to have 1 jake, and 1 longbeard walk within 30 yards of us with me pleading to him not to move and well you guessed it, 4 clucks and gone!

A season with ups and downs, it was. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know whether to give it another go this week, or simply just toss my gear into the box. I don’t know if I need to try another state, or leave it alone and go fishing. The one thing I can tell you, that I do know, turkey hunting is the most addicting sport I know. Turkeys and Woman are 2 things man will never figure out. And, just to end this vent, story, whatever it is… Either it is or it ain’t. No matter the excuse, no matter the story, no matter anything. In life, you either did or didn’t. The same goes for hunting turkeys, chasing woman, or most anything you really wish to use. It’s simple, really. So far, I ain’t done chit.

Side Note:
Yes, I shouldn't have got upset, just if I'm going to screw a hunt up and after 11 never once did they flee the scene just walked out, I'd like to mess it up myself. Its just been one messed up season hunting both (private and public). Called in one bird for a guy to blow his head off and me and my brother hit the ground praying we weren't hit (public land) would have been my brothers first. Still get chills about that hunt. having a bird shut up on private land to see someone else coming down the road when they had no permission (grown man w/ his son). Have seen more fly from their roost than I care to even share (limbing one got to be a real possibility). The guy with the straight pipes on his atv? Walked dang near 2 miles to have that one ended. It's been a hair pulling adventure, and I just couldn't catch a break. May the next 15 days yield something, good luck to all in the last heat.

[Gunslinger]

I don’t know what to do.

I'll tell you what to do. Next time you have one strutting back and forth at 15 yards for 10 minutes and you're buddy whispers "dont move"...shoot the sumbitch, then tell him "sorry". I've hunting with partners numerous times, and I'm all open for discussions and gameplanning. But when it comes down to the moment of truth, and I know I have a tom "dead to rights"...it's not open for discussion. I follow my instincts.

[DUCK-HUNT]

Turkey hunting is a one man game....

Lose the buddies and go get cha one!!!

[Ster]

Turkey hunting is a one man game....

Lose the buddies and go get cha one!!!

I realized I would not be hunting alone when my buddy began to suit up, and being it was his land; I had no objection with my buddy tagging along.

There in lies the problem. I understand your frustration with the situation, but remind yourself that you could have been sitting at home watching the NBC Today show or Saturday morning cartoons had he not given you an opportunity to utilize land that he owned. That just goes with the territory.

[aweyerman]

I don’t know what to do.

I'll tell you what to do. Next time you have one strutting back and forth at 15 yards for 10 minutes and you're buddy whispers "dont move"...shoot the sumbitch, then tell him "sorry". I've hunting with partners numerous times, and I'm all open for discussions and gameplanning. But when it comes down to the moment of truth, and I know I have a tom "dead to rights"...it's not open for discussion. I follow my instincts.

X10 my Dad has let a bunch get away from him this year as well and I'll tell you like I've told him. I don't know what the deal is with him or you but the only way you're ever going to take one for a ride is to shoot the sob in the dang face. Not every one comes strutting down the barrel hell I leave my gun in my lap most of the time and just snap shoot. Sigh...

[missed mallards]

Turkey hunting is a one man game....

Lose the buddies and go get cha one!!!

I realized I would not be hunting alone when my buddy began to suit up, and being it was his land; I had no objection with my buddy tagging along.

There in lies the problem. I understand your frustration with the situation, but remind yourself that you could have been sitting at home watching the NBC Today show or Saturday morning cartoons had he not given you an opportunity to utilize land that he owned. That just goes with the territory.

Ster, there is one thing for sure. I have other places LOL. Haven't spent a weekend at home all season, and have spent many a day during the week on some type of grounds. Sadly, those birds have done me the exact same way as the ones on my buddys place. Truth be told, he'd of probably went elsewhere but hearing about the encounters perked his interest. His comment as we went down the road that morning was "there is no way"... 30 minutes later, he experienced what I've been experiencing all season.

Awyerman- It ain't like I haven't wanted to shoot them in their face, nor do I not want to jump up and down some 50 times on their head. This season, I've not had a kill shot open and I really don't want to wound one. Out of the 11, the one @ 6 steps was the only one I should have just swung on. Just had a few obstacles i couldn't overcome that morning to pull it off.

I just had to vent a lot. I've never had something drive me so crazy in my life. I've had birds coming straight down my barrel to shut up and pop out right behind me drumming all season. it gets old, and now the birds seem to be shutting down putting the pressure on something awful. I went from hearing a small monkey in my ear to carrying a full grown silverback gorilla on my back. Stressful LOL.

[The Waterfowler]

Sounds like it should have gone, BANG, what did you say?