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But, I'm trying to write a book on my grand slam efforts. Here is an excerpt. Please give me some feed back.
Chapter 6
For the most part I had been just hunting the 5 Saturdays of the NC wild turkey season, with a few days off thrown in here and there. As I learned more and matured as a turkey hunter it became clear that having a few days in a row to figure a bird out would be beneficial. So somewhere along the way I started to take a week's vacation during turkey season. It also seemed like a good idea to expand my horizons by hunting in the mountains of North Carolina. The plan was to hunt the first day of season locally and leave out on Sunday morning to spend a week visiting Wifey's brother and his wife and hunt on the mountain behind their house. Without realizing it we were setting a precedent that would continue for several years and figure into my future plans for a grand slam.
Opening day dawned clear and bright and the toms were gobbling their heads off. To begin with it seemed that I had a bird willing to play the game. But, before long his gobbles faded and I needed to make a move. This was a new farm for me so even though I had done some preseason scouting I wanted to explore some. The run and gun turkey hunting technique involves moving and stopping to call at likely locations. This is opposed to setting up in a likely spot and waiting it out. I tend to do some of both. I quietly eased out of a pine forest and into a lower swampier hardwood bottom. As soon as I made it to a clearing, I stopped to call. It's a good idea to work through a procession of calls starting subtle and working to loud yelps and cuts. Clucks and soft yelps on a mouth call didn't excite any gobblers but my first more aggressive yelps on a box call did. A word of caution: when using this style of hunting have a setup spot in mind before you call so that if the response you're looking for comes you'll be ready. The gobble rang out and echoed through the woods. I eased to a sitting position and readied my calls and gun. After a little time to let the forest settled own I made another call, no answer. Using a pot call is what I like to do in this situation. Changing strikers I scratched out a few more yelps. The gobble came just like I wanted it to. Before long he gobbled again this time on his own and closer. The tom cut off my next series of clucks and yelps. All that was left was for me to wait him out. After 30 minutes or so without seeing or hearing anything, I started to think about finishing my packing for the trip to the mountains. 10 minutes later I called again and got no response. I studied the trees and bushes hard trying to see the tom I knew just had to be there. I thought more about the packing. Deciding that he wasn't coming after all, I rose to my feet and not more than 40 yards away the gobbler putted and sprang into the air. I had blown it, a few more minutes and he would have been my lap. Lesson learned; always hunt on turkey standard time.
The next morning we headed to Hot Springs, NC. On Monday morning bright and early I headed out. The weather was cold and that shuts down the breeding, and the urge to breed is what makes turkeys gobble. More scouting than hunting I walked up a hollow and found turkey sign near the top on a small bench. Hunting in the mountains is tough on a flatlander, by mid afternoon I was tired and a little disgusted. Walking in the mountains with a gun slung over my shoulder was fun, at least to start with. Not hearing or seeing any turkeys didn't help the fun factor 1 bit. I hunted hard that week, the only exception was 1 day rain, sleet and snow was forecast and I decided to sleep in. The afternoon before my last hunt day in the mountains I drove Barbara and her friend Toni to Gatlinburg, Tennessee. Over time hunting in the morning and shopping, sightseeing in the afternoon has become the norm on out of town hunting trips. While they shopped I napped in the Expedition and went over my last day strategeries. The weather had warmed and it was supposed to be sunny. The sleet and snow had shut down the gobbling and I was hopeful the higher temps would rev things back up. One good thing was I had found a hollow that provided easier access to the bench with the turkey sign. By the time it began to get light I had already picked my way to the top of the mountain in the dark. As things brightened up there were 3 different toms gobbling from 2 different locations. One was closer and soon he was answering calls and headed my way. The bird was coming up the same hollow I had used to access the mountaintop. At least by me, that particular hollow is now called "turkey hollow." Any minute the longbeard would appear from behind a big rock and be mine. He had other ideas, the hunter had his sights on the left side of the rock so that as soon as the hunted appeared all that would be left was to pull the trigger. The easy way around the rock was on a game trail on the down slope side. Mountain turkeys are tough, this bird elected to walk up a steep incline and go around the topside of the rock. When I moved my gun he saw me, putted and turned to leave but it was too late. At the shot he went flopping down the hill and I went running after him, thinking "I hope I don't break my neck chasing a dead turkey?" At least I hoped he was dead. The good news was we were headed the way I needed go, the bad news was I had to go back up and get the calls I had left.
This first mountain tom boosted my confidence when it came to hunting the wild turkey. Walter and Diana are great hosts and we get along very well. This trip was the start of odyssey that would take the 4 of us to 2 other states.
Chapter 6
For the most part I had been just hunting the 5 Saturdays of the NC wild turkey season, with a few days off thrown in here and there. As I learned more and matured as a turkey hunter it became clear that having a few days in a row to figure a bird out would be beneficial. So somewhere along the way I started to take a week's vacation during turkey season. It also seemed like a good idea to expand my horizons by hunting in the mountains of North Carolina. The plan was to hunt the first day of season locally and leave out on Sunday morning to spend a week visiting Wifey's brother and his wife and hunt on the mountain behind their house. Without realizing it we were setting a precedent that would continue for several years and figure into my future plans for a grand slam.
Opening day dawned clear and bright and the toms were gobbling their heads off. To begin with it seemed that I had a bird willing to play the game. But, before long his gobbles faded and I needed to make a move. This was a new farm for me so even though I had done some preseason scouting I wanted to explore some. The run and gun turkey hunting technique involves moving and stopping to call at likely locations. This is opposed to setting up in a likely spot and waiting it out. I tend to do some of both. I quietly eased out of a pine forest and into a lower swampier hardwood bottom. As soon as I made it to a clearing, I stopped to call. It's a good idea to work through a procession of calls starting subtle and working to loud yelps and cuts. Clucks and soft yelps on a mouth call didn't excite any gobblers but my first more aggressive yelps on a box call did. A word of caution: when using this style of hunting have a setup spot in mind before you call so that if the response you're looking for comes you'll be ready. The gobble rang out and echoed through the woods. I eased to a sitting position and readied my calls and gun. After a little time to let the forest settled own I made another call, no answer. Using a pot call is what I like to do in this situation. Changing strikers I scratched out a few more yelps. The gobble came just like I wanted it to. Before long he gobbled again this time on his own and closer. The tom cut off my next series of clucks and yelps. All that was left was for me to wait him out. After 30 minutes or so without seeing or hearing anything, I started to think about finishing my packing for the trip to the mountains. 10 minutes later I called again and got no response. I studied the trees and bushes hard trying to see the tom I knew just had to be there. I thought more about the packing. Deciding that he wasn't coming after all, I rose to my feet and not more than 40 yards away the gobbler putted and sprang into the air. I had blown it, a few more minutes and he would have been my lap. Lesson learned; always hunt on turkey standard time.
The next morning we headed to Hot Springs, NC. On Monday morning bright and early I headed out. The weather was cold and that shuts down the breeding, and the urge to breed is what makes turkeys gobble. More scouting than hunting I walked up a hollow and found turkey sign near the top on a small bench. Hunting in the mountains is tough on a flatlander, by mid afternoon I was tired and a little disgusted. Walking in the mountains with a gun slung over my shoulder was fun, at least to start with. Not hearing or seeing any turkeys didn't help the fun factor 1 bit. I hunted hard that week, the only exception was 1 day rain, sleet and snow was forecast and I decided to sleep in. The afternoon before my last hunt day in the mountains I drove Barbara and her friend Toni to Gatlinburg, Tennessee. Over time hunting in the morning and shopping, sightseeing in the afternoon has become the norm on out of town hunting trips. While they shopped I napped in the Expedition and went over my last day strategeries. The weather had warmed and it was supposed to be sunny. The sleet and snow had shut down the gobbling and I was hopeful the higher temps would rev things back up. One good thing was I had found a hollow that provided easier access to the bench with the turkey sign. By the time it began to get light I had already picked my way to the top of the mountain in the dark. As things brightened up there were 3 different toms gobbling from 2 different locations. One was closer and soon he was answering calls and headed my way. The bird was coming up the same hollow I had used to access the mountaintop. At least by me, that particular hollow is now called "turkey hollow." Any minute the longbeard would appear from behind a big rock and be mine. He had other ideas, the hunter had his sights on the left side of the rock so that as soon as the hunted appeared all that would be left was to pull the trigger. The easy way around the rock was on a game trail on the down slope side. Mountain turkeys are tough, this bird elected to walk up a steep incline and go around the topside of the rock. When I moved my gun he saw me, putted and turned to leave but it was too late. At the shot he went flopping down the hill and I went running after him, thinking "I hope I don't break my neck chasing a dead turkey?" At least I hoped he was dead. The good news was we were headed the way I needed go, the bad news was I had to go back up and get the calls I had left.
This first mountain tom boosted my confidence when it came to hunting the wild turkey. Walter and Diana are great hosts and we get along very well. This trip was the start of odyssey that would take the 4 of us to 2 other states.
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