Primitive Archer
Main Discussion Area => Around the Campfire => Topic started by: JW_Halverson on April 11, 2015, 02:31:53 pm
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Nine gobblers off this roost in about 15 years of turkey hunting. Last year's hunt was pretty memorable and folks seemed to enjoy my description: http://www.primitivearcher.com/smf/index.php/topic,46083.0.html
This morning, with a mere 4 hours sleep under my eyelids, I was headed out to One Two Eight Roost, named for the morning years back when I counted 128 birds leave that roost site. I had my .62 cal smoothbore flintlock loaded with an ounce and an eighth of bismuth #4's over 70 grains of powder. This year I was kitted out in 1770's era clothes, too. Two linen shirts under a long collarless wool weskit (vest), woolen breeches, stockings, canvas leggings, and a knit cap. But this year I was carrying a slate turkey call made for me by tattoo dave, of Primitive Archer Forum fame! I also had an osage orange tubular call with a bone mouthpiece. It mimics a turkey wingbone call nicely, but is much more durable and can stand being sat on!
Dave's slate is a work of art, cedar pot, thin fine grained slate, a purpleheart striker with a lovely deer antler crown perched on top. It has a high pitched yelp on one edge, goes all low and raspy across the middle, and makes a purr that can't be touched! It got a light workout this morning, since I was set up right close to the roost. No sense drawing their keen eyes to my position. Boy howdy, I am going to love useing this call to death! ....a gobbler's death that is!
There was more than the usual grass growing on the 45 degree slope last year and it was still standing this spring. Dry grass is as slick as snot on the soles of my moccs and I had to use my face to cushion my fall in the dark any number of times. Be danged if I was gonna drop that lovely curly ash stocked flintlock in the dark and ding it up. Not when I have a face that dings could only improve! It took me a bit longer than usual to get to a position, but I was still there in good time.
It was a beautiful morning for turkey hunting, 45 degrees, half moon in the sky, no clouds, no wind. We'd had a little rain recently and the pine needles were whisper quiet under the moccasins. The moonlight illuminated the deer path that led from my seat to the roost tree and down under the ridgeline. The roost was silhouetted in the moon, kinda like a tacky low-rent print at a conservation banquet auction. I could count at least 6 birds in the tree. Legal shooting time was still 30 minutes away, and I turned up the collars on my shirts, hunkering down to wait for the typical cold updraft breezes that come right at sunrise on these ridges.
I was just about nodding off when I hear some soft tree yelps across the road. This miserable split roosting on either side of the road is gonna be the death of me, yet! The birds on my side open with a few soft yelps and the birds across the road hit the brass gong with a series of hard gobbles. Gotta be at least 4 adult toms over there. The gobblers answer on my side and then birds all up and down the canyon begin to chime in lustily. There are hens, jakes, and adult toms ringing away like church bells on Easter morning up in their ponderosa pine steeples in the sky. And I am in my usual pew, here in church where I belong.
I figure at least another 4 toms and several jakes on my side of the road! I'm still in the game here, I tell my self. I got good position, I am situated over a nice strut zone just outside of where they would hit the dirt at fly-down, with the birds across the canyon and over the road on private land at my back.
Once I would have said it was a dead brass railroad lock on a kill, but after several hundred times having been outwitted by birds with brains the size of a shelled pecan, I am too experienced to make that mistake. No, I am going to sit here and take my medicine like a man. Crooketarrow tells me that so long as you don't give yourself away or reveal yourself to a flock, you haven't hurt yourself just by talking with them. so I do a little talking with both the osage and bone yelper as well as tattoo dave's slate.
Further down the ridge comes the turd in the punchbowl. It's a raspy two or three reed latex mouth call that sounds like it is being blown into a red plastic solo cup, with too slow rhythm. Every time he calls, the birds shut up. I suspect he knows it and he calls only infrequently. Good choice. In my mind, I hope this only pushes the birds closer to me when they pitch, but in reality, I was sure how it would play....and they must have read my mind, because they followed the script perfectly and flew across the road onto private land. All told, it looked like about 25 birds on the roost. I was home and making coffee by 6:30, getting ready for work.
Its hunting. If I just had to have a bird this morning, I would have hit the freezer section of the supermarket. For the rest of you turkey addicts, get out there, pitch your next inning and come back and share the story!!!
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Your a heck of a writer jdub, heck of a writer. You should do it more :)
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Wish I was with ya', or heck, anywhere hunting birds instead of work. I'll be out there next year, promise, if you'll still have me. :)
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JW, I sure enjoyed reading this. Really getting me pumped for taking my son on his first turkey hunt next Saturday.
I hope you get one tomorrow.
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That's awesome JW! Sounds like a good time I'm glad you like that call. I would love to be out there with you guys this year! I just purchased my michigan turkey tag today. I hope I actually have a chance to get out there. Good luck my friend! Gobble, gobble, boom...Turkey dinner!
Tattoo Dave
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As always JW, a well told story ! Thanks for sharing - Bob.
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Enjoyed, vey much sittin there with ya... at least in my minds eye. ::)
Your writing shows how well you enjoy the experience, leaving the inevitable successes that much richer.
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Loved the story JW. Thanks.
Pappy
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Dave, I gotta admit, I have not been practicing with that slate hardly at all. But it works so easy, so many sweet spots! I am taking a couple home made strikers along with next time to vary the call "flavor".
Send me your son, Swampy and I will send you back a Turkey Huntin' Man!
Mullet....you know where to find me.
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Jw, please do us a favor and write down all your hunting experiences as you have them. Love reading it and your style is fun to read.
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JW, there are days I would like to send my son west, but his first turkey hunt isn't one of them. I wouldn't miss that for the world.
Mike
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Spoken like a Daddy.
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Wif out pics it didnt happen >:D Dave makes a heck of a call ...can't wait to show you the slate and copper Turkey flopper you ol wind bag lol ;D
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Great story tellin' JW... :)
Del
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Enjoyed the story very much JW, thought I was sittin, right beside ya.
Thank,s, ya got me fired up for the spring hunt, gotta wait for May here in N.Y. though.
Kevin
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Great writing jw
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Chapter Two: Wherein John Re-Learns Some Very Hard Lessons.
Last night about 10:30 I decide it is time to work the roost again. Before turning in, I looked the gear over and decided to skip the historical accuracy of period clothes and opted for the old fashioned treebark camo jumpsuit and a Mega-fanny pack to carry calls and gear. Never having blooded this flintlock smoothbore, still being loaded from the other day, I decided I would carry that. But not the full shooting bag and powder horn. I intended to have the bird all but physically in contact with my person before pulling the trigger, so one shot should do it. No need to carry extra gear, right? Right! I set the alarm on my phone and turned the sound down as low as it would go.
I was up and making coffee at 4:15. Lena, my near constant companion rez dog from Pine Ridge was up with me and faithfully keeping her food dish company in the kitchen. "Sorry, kiddo, breakfast when I come back. Go back to bed!" She stood, stretched, yawned the most melodramatic and operatic way and headed off to occupy the warm spot I left on the mattress.
I took the longer and easier way up to One Two Eight since the moon was low on the eastern horizon and not lighting my way. I found out yet ANOTHER reason why pre-season scouting is important...the deer trail I know by heart had a several major blowdowns blocking it and I had to fumble through a Marine Corps agility course with fear knowing that at any minute I could encounter a random broken branch with an eye socket! Call it this day's Mistake Number One.
I decided to sit back from the roost a little further and a bit higher up the hill. Not my normal technique, this left a long field of view for the birds to pick me out as they would approach, but I had an old dead tree laying down at my back and several branches breaking up my profile. This way, I could pick and choose amongst the toms to try taking the biggest! I was settled in at 5:11, sunrise today would be at 6:11 and legal shooting time is 30 minutes before sunrise. That gave me a good 30 minutes to rest and relax, listening to the wind blow through the pines carrying the smell of woodsmoke from the forest fire down at Wind Cave National Park. I set out the box call I won my first year at the Tennessee Classic, tattoo dave's slate, and the custom suction call I had just finished for iowabow. My intent was to use none of them until the birds were actually flying down from the trees, lessening the chance that they would spot something "off" or suspicious from their perches high in the starry night.
As usual, the birds across the canyon, across the road, over on private land lit up first. A single gobble split the night like a crack of rifle fire! It was 5:24, right on time. Hens chimed in, more gobbles, some jakes trying out their new pipes and seemingly choking on their sad little attempts at gobbling. My spot in the deep pine duff was comfy. One branch of the dead pine lying on the ground cradled my head at just the right angle. It was a sweet morning until the thought came to me that I needed to prime the pan on my flintlock. It was loaded and would remain so until it was fired or I drew the charge. But for safety, I had cleared the priming from the pan before I left the woods the other morning. And there in my mind's eye was the picture of my shooting pouch and powderhorn sitting side by side on my recliner. Right where I left them. No charger full of FFFFg, not even a FFg shot right from the main horn. No, nothing at all. My fancy wood, steel, iron, and brass construct was as useful as a golf club at a tennis court. Call it Mistake Number Two for the day.
"All in stride, son, all in stride." I told myself. We will just talk a little with the birds when they come down off the roost and get to know them as they work the strut zone. It would be nice to just spend the time with these birds and not be bent on working them for all I am worth in order to shoot. No, this is going to be a nice morning of just talking to the birdies. But as the sun was coming up and it was closing in on legal shooting time, there was still no sound from my side of the road. I could not plainly see the roost trees, so I could not confirm nor deny the presence of birds. Things across the road, however, had reached a fever pitch! Birds were double gobbling, hens were cackling and pitting. It was quite the party over there prior to pitching down. On my side, dead silence.
Knowing I am not the only person to hunt this area, I assumed that someone had hit this roost over the weekend and they had all moved to private land across the canyon and road. So be it. It has happened before. I sat up and loaded all the various gear back into my multipocketed fanny pack and cinched it up. I stood up, stretched, and pulled off the camo mask and stocking cap. I had birds on the wrong side of the road here last year and pulled them across. Maybe I could repeat the performance, in effect loading this roost site for tomorrow morning's hunt! I walked down the hill and right past the roost trees in order to better line up with the flock across the road.
I pulled out the slate and began to give some easy tree yelps as an introduction to the flock. Hens answered and the gobblers were bawling like bulls getting cut for oxen! I upped my ante and cackled a little before adding a series of warmed up yelps. The flock across the road was responding nicely, so I pulled iowabow's new suction call out and gave a few more yelps of encouragement. It must have sounded good because it drew gobbles from the unoccupied roost!!!
Call that one Mistake Number Three. I had prejudged the situation before all the facts were in, too confidant in my own experience. Rather than making the situation worse by continuing to call while the birds on the One Two Eight roost had me made, I simply folded the hand I had dealt myself and slipped quietly into the trees, down the hillside to the hiway. I made it to my Jeep in a few short minutes and was back home making breakfast for myself and Lena before 6:30 a.m.
Recap: 1) Scout pre-season, even if it is just to kick branches and pine cones off your insertion and/or extraction route. No sense trying to maneuver a minefield and risk alerting the flock, or worse yet, injuring yourself.
2) Always walk yourself thru the entire gear checklist EVERY time. It's the littlest things that can trip you up.
3)Just cuz you didn't hear a bird does not mean there ain't a bird. Boy howdy.
Ok, so I pitched a bad game. I made a lot of errors and gave up far too many runs. I don't know why I am using a football analogy, I never watch football. But tomorrow is another game. At least I did not continue my errors so long that I educated the birds TOO much. The woman that first taught me basics in raptor handling told me that every time you step within the sight of that hawk/falcon/owl/eagle/whatever, someone learns something. The bird definitely learns something about you, but YOU need to make sure you learn something too, rather than waste the opportunity.
I guess I will chalk this one up as "no harm, no fowl".
you see what I did there?
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Great writing jw love the story and wow a hand made and tested call sounds like a great gift. BTW I lost my call last year just before turkey season.
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Better luck today Jdub ! Bob
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You only had one call I'll send you a few.
SWEETTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT JW
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Reminds me of the time I went to the club to try out my latest bow...
I had all my gear... except the string >:(
Great story
Del
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Ok, so I pitched a bad game. I made a lot of errors and gave up far too many runs. I don't know why I am using a football analogy, I never watch football.
Haaa haa ha!! Love it. Good stories Jdub. Did you cushion your falls with your face in chapter two?
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I got to the woods one time with my trusty .54 and realized it's ramrod was still sitting on my work bench in the shop where I loaded my rifle for a days hunting. I had one load in the gun but no chance of a follow up shot. Fortunately no shot presented its self.
Another time (actually twice) I drove 50 miles to the range and forgot my range rod and cleaning jag. This meant I could only shoot until my flinter sooted up and became impossible to load, usually 10 shots or less, at which point I was done. I started keeping a range rod under the back seat of my truck to avoid future embarrassment.
A good friend and one of the top BP competitors in the country, drove 180 miles to the state championship and realized he had left all his range rods and cleaning stuff at home. A 340 mile round trip that afternoon was needed to have him ready to compete the next day.
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CHAPTER THREE: Where John Finds nothing On The Roost, and Goes to Plan B!
No birds on One Two Eight Roost this morning, but I used my GPS to put a marker on position of the birds across the hiway.. When I opened up the view on the GPS, I realized their position was NOT UNASSAILABLE! Their citadel could be flanked, their defenses crushed, their very lives brought into question! BWAHAHAHA!
Iowabow and MoccasinMan Kyle might know the other side of this ridge as Lost Box Call Valley, since that is where I lost a great box call last year working a pair of very mature tom gobblers. I had strongly suspected that this was the case. I just needed to get myself a mere quarter mile west of my current position. Easy enough to do, just a four mile drive and a one mile hike!!!
Sure enough, I could get up closer to them, still on public land, and I could talk to them. The gobblers were pretty wrapped up in their hens, and I suspect the landowner at the top of the ridge feeds them. These birds are loathe to come down off that ridge! But after an hour of very sproradic calling, I got a strike from the south of my position! A lusty gobble, clear as digital stereo surround sound!
I packed up and headed down a finger draw and clawed my way up a 70 degree slope to top out in some doghair pine. Four ft tall pines, as many as a dozen per square yard, thick as hair on a dog's back....doghair pine. I weaseled my way thru and discovered a logging trail just as Ol' Lusty Tom bellowed his intentions to have his way with anything half warm! He had to be under 60 yards and right down the road! We talked back and forth for a good 20 minutes when I decided to up the ante. I dashed to the other side of the road and worked in another 20 yds. I had a better set-up where I was in the shade of trees. He had only to come down the road a little and he would be completely in range before he saw me. I opened with a whining feeding call and some scratching on the ground. He answered handsomely and immediately. I followed with cackles and some hard yelps.
A hen started pitting and putting. I responded in kind, hoping to push her buttons. Each exchange between escalated like two over indulged entitled broads haggling over who saw the shoes first at a Macy's sale! This was getting fun! I threw trump down and started cutting and cackling, interrupting her every syllable! What the heck, I had remembered to bring the charger and the pan was primed and the stone in the lock was knapped good-n-sharp! Wasn't long before a fight broke out and you could hear wings slapping and body kicks!
I knew I was close! I shoulda fixed bayonnet and charged! Tur-kebabs, anyone?
Feeling pretty proud of myself, I threw everything into calling these birds, tattoo dave's slate, iowabow's new custom suction call, the Classic box call from Tennessee (man, I wish I could remember the name of the guy that makes them!), and even my purpleheart Heartbreaker box call! And then the hens patched things up and herded the gobbler over the ridge and off into the National Forest at a pace I could never have kept up. Ol' Tom was plaintively calling me, begging me to rescue him from those wicked sisters he had the bad luck to get roped up with. Poor feller, I almost feel sorry for him. Those two battleaxes are gonna breed him down to a nubbin of his former self.
I packed it in and headed for town. I had some poults to see.
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(http://i365.photobucket.com/albums/oo100/JW_Halverson/Bird%20stuff/593e845c-1d44-4a8c-80c4-b71b320a1b00_zpsfglf300u.jpg) (http://s365.photobucket.com/user/JW_Halverson/media/Bird%20stuff/593e845c-1d44-4a8c-80c4-b71b320a1b00_zpsfglf300u.jpg.html)
30 minutes after leaving the turkey woods, I was talking with pre-schoolers about cryptic coloration, how owls hunt, and what the difference between real owls and pretend owls that talk in movies.
One kid asked if I was a hunter, too, because I wore camo. Why yes, I am! I was talking to turkeys this morning! Before I left, the children could do a passable imitation of the five note great horned call and several of those kids could yelp like a boss hen!
Some days are just pure gold, just plain pure gold.
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Great story telling JW, brought a big smile to my face over breakfast... I could picture myself tryin' to get through those dog hair pine.
Del
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JW, Thanks for sharing your experiences. You have now made it so I am completely useless at work. All I can think about is sneaking through the pines as loud thundering gobblers fire off.
I still have 2 days of work to get through before I take my son out and then my season starts next Monday. Looks like 2 more days of day dreaming.
Looking forward to your next chapter.
Mike
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It has rained here almost every day for the last two weeks. I don't take my flint fowler out in the rain to chase turkeys. The forecast for the next week; rain every day.
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JW awesome owl, some indain tribles concedered owls have great powers. HUNTERS OF THE NIGHT. One of my tatoo's has a bared owl in it. There's no better sound that a barred owl laughing. If you've never heard barded owls laughing you got to here one. If you do you'll never foreget it.
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Agree 100% with that crooked. Had a couple outside my window for the last month and that his been some good sleeping!
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JW awesome owl, some indain tribles concedered owls have great powers. HUNTERS OF THE NIGHT. One of my tatoo's has a bared owl in it. There's no better sound that a barred owl laughing. If you've never heard barded owls laughing you got to here one. If you do you'll never foreget it.
No barred owls in the Black Hills. No turkey here has ever heard a real barred owl in their lives, but they will shock gobble at even the poorest imitation of a barred owl!
I worked with one at Reptile Gardens years ago. Her name was Steinie, and now lives at the World Bird Sanctuary near St Louis. I learned to hoot from her. Years later, at the Tennessee Classic, one was hooting in camp and I answered her. She and I talked back and forth until she flew in and perched atop the bowmaking sheds to get a better look at me. I swear to all things holy that the look on her face said, "Son, that nawthun accent is atrocious!"
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Here in North Alabama we call em hoot owls. I enjoy talking to the owls as much as the turkeys some days. When you get 2 or 3 hooting and laughing at once the woods get loud. I bet it would make a city boy mess his britches at night.
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Google some audio files for eastern screech owls and barn owls. Real creep show stuff.
I took the last few days off from hunting to get stuff done around the house. I am taking my boss and his two sons out tomorrow morning. These twin 14 yr old boys are great kids and have not had a lot of "hardcore" outdoors experience yet. Lets hope we can make some excitement!!!
I wish more guys would take a little time and write about their experiences in the woods. I love hearing people talk about their hunts, why not take the time and peck it out on the keyboard for us???
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Here is one;
I went turkey hunting yesterday afternoon, I could hear the same gobbler I encountered on the last trip hammering on the adjacent property. I settled into my log blind and started calling. The gobbler would come down the hollow across the fence and get pretty close then go back up the hollow away from me.
I decided to wait him out until dark, calling every now and then to see if he would come in.
Abut 3:30 I heard some light "peeps" coming from my right down the ridge. At first I thought it was a hen but it didn't sound right. This turkey was up the ridge, down in the hollow in a zig-zag pattern but getting closer with every zig. I finally saw it easing up to the logging road in front of me and could tell it was a jake. I was going to shoot it as I am not trophy hunting when I have my flintlock.
The bird was about 30 yards away, I couldn't see his head and expected him to walk the logging road toward my decoy. I was hunting big, open woods. He stepped out in the road, I could have shot but he was walking and more than 30 yards away which I felt was a little far for my flinter. I let him go. He peeped his way across the road, up the ridge and out of sight. It took him about 10 minutes to finally get out of view. I couldn't lure him in that last 5 yards I needed to be sure of my shot.
Then there was big boy hammering behind me; After about two hours I heard a gobble closer, directly behind me, then another and another. He was going to my left, the fence line was 20 yards away, I had to let him come through the fence before I could have him on our land for a shot.
I hit the dirt in my log blind, gun cocked, and only my gun barrel and eyeballs peeking over the logs in the direction I knew he would appear. Silence, my legs were getting cramped, still no turkey, then.......... he gobbled, dang, right behind me. I was facing left, he looped around and came in to my right at no more than 15 yards. I swung around to my right but he caught me and hauled butt over the rise and out of my life. I never saw him because he skedaddled when I tried to turn in his direction.
He had a hen with him that scattered when he did, but she came back, I called her right up to me. She hung around for a while making some really loud "lost hen" calls, she was trying to get the gobbler to come back but he was long gone.
A fun afternoon but no cigar.
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Wish I had a story to peck. Its been a weird year on our property and about the worst season I recall. 3 weekends in and I've heard 1 bird. I got too close and bumped the hens I didn't know were with him. I don't know if we just don't have many on our place this year or if they just have lock jaw. Last year I killed 3 and my brother killed 2 and I let 2 jakes walk. 4 of the birds killed were in the same spot. You can't win em all I guess. Eric I'm glad to here someone around this area is hearing birds.
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Need an update dub looking for the next chapter ;)
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Been treating myself to Egyptian cotton sheets and good Sumatran coffee late in the morning when I do finally get up!
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Been treating myself to Egyptian cotton sheets and good Sumatran coffee late in the morning when I do finally get up!
My image of you is now shattered. I thought your were an outdoorsman above all outdoorsmen. Now I find out your nothing but an Egyptian cotton sheet soaker, with late on the side. Those turkey aren't going to kill themselves, and if they do, who'll eat them, make calls from their wing and fletching from their feathers. You owes to those noble birds, to not die in vain. Rise, kill and eat.
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Oh little Hedgey, Hedgey! You expose your ignorance of turkey truths, sadly. Everyone knows in midseason the gobblers are henned up tight as a bull's butt in fly season as the sun comes up. In early season before the hens are receptive to breeding, he is ready to go but she's not. Hence, good times at sunrise. Midmorning is better, after the hens move off to lay an egg or set the nest. For now, I am content to rest up and ready myself physically, emotionally, and spiritually.
Besides, in a few weeks, soy, iowabow, Primitive Tim, and some others are coming out to hit it and hit it like a champ!
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Yeah don't shoot m!!! Wanna tackle one >:D