Primitive Archer
Main Discussion Area => Around the Campfire => Topic started by: JW_Halverson on April 29, 2017, 09:14:32 pm
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Coming with me is Tattoo Dave (slate call), buffalogobbler (box call), 4est Trekker (neck knife), soy (bow), mullet (arrow shafts), bluegill68 (fletching), iowabow (points), crivera (snakeskin), YosemiteBen (obsidian knife blade), KyleWayne (moccasins), and so very, very many others for their friendship, support, advice, prayers, and love.
And people wonder why I never feel alone in the woods...
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Best of luck, Mr John.
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Good luck JW. (--)
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Best of Luck JW :G ! Bob
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Get him John. I hope that call sweet talks em in! My season starts next week, but I'm waiting for camp.
Tattoo Dave
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Sounds like quite the collaboration of talent. Best of luck to you JW
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Where you headed John?
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I thought that group was outlawed in 12 states... Have a great time! Looking forward to pictures.
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That's a whole lotta good mojo JW. I just don't see how you could go wrong with all that talent.
Bjrogg
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You've got yourself and your back-up. Now all you need is for the turkey to show up. Best of luck to you. The Medicine has you covered. :OK
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Best of luck to ya! (SH) :G
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How did it go? Any birds?
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Hopin' good luck smiled upon you. (SH) :G
Kevin
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I heard birds...no problem in that department. Gobblers, of course, but worse yet....HENS! Hallelujiah choruses of hens. Hens of every color and stripe. Heck, I had hens of every species answering, maybe even a hen alligator from the sounds of it. I think every square foot of the Black Hills outside of my line of vision had a hen standing on it and responding to my calling!
I do not speak fluent turkey, but I can imagine these are some of the main things they were saying:
1) Do not listen to her, Norbert!
2) Her breast is fake, Elmer!
3) You already have too many of us in the customer service line, Louis!
4) I will cut your spurs off if you even think about it, Ralph!
5) Get your tail back over here, Higbee.
6) Don't make me putt you in your place, Mortimer!
Yeah, I got beat by birds with brains the size of a shelled pecan. I need to do this again real soon.
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Them little-brained critters have been kickin my butt for the last 2 and a half weeks!
Maybe "size doesn't matter" is applicable to the brain....
Good luck!
Neal
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Thanks for the update JW. Entertaining as usual.
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I think taking a turkey with a bow and arrow you made is just about the most awesome demonstration of skill a person can achieve. It's a lifelong goal of mine. I know you'll get one soon, if you haven't already!
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John, are you in the same spot we were in last year? That 16 hour drive home had me doing a lot of reflecting on last years hunt, and what I could have done differently. All I can think is, get closer in the morning when it's still dark. They just would not come out of that little valley for nothin. I feel I was to go back this year, my happy ass would be sitting down in there waiting for them to arrive, instead of up the hill a bit, trying to draw them back up. Best of luck to ya bud!
Tattoo Dave
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I heard birds...no problem in that department. Gobblers, of course, but worse yet....HENS! Hallelujiah choruses of hens. Hens of every color and stripe. Heck, I had hens of every species answering, maybe even a hen alligator from the sounds of it. I think every square foot of the Black Hills outside of my line of vision had a hen standing on it and responding to my calling!
I do not speak fluent turkey, but I can imagine these are some of the main things they were saying:
1) Do not listen to her, Norbert!
2) Her breast is fake, Elmer!
3) You already have too many of us in the customer service line, Louis!
4) I will cut your spurs off if you even think about it, Ralph!
5) Get your tail back over here, Higbee.
6) Don't make me putt you in your place, Mortimer!
Yeah, I got beat by birds with brains the size of a shelled pecan. I need to do this again real soon.
Now that's funny... :OK
Best of luck to ya Sir.
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Maybe if you can hang out long enough those hens will be talking different. Like.
#1 Did you hear that Norbert, she sounds kinda lonely.
#2 Elmer she has some really fine upper body strength.
#3 Louis, don't you have some other coustumers to take care of?
#4 How would you like to sink your spurs in that Ralph?
#5 Get your tail outa here Higbee!!!
And poor Mortimer
#6 Don't make me putt you in your place Mortimer!!
Funny how the ladies run everything.lol.
Bjrogg
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Maybe if you can hang out long enough those hens will be talking different. Like.
#1 Did you hear that Norbert, she sounds kinda lonely.
#2 Elmer she has some really fine upper body strength.
#3 Louis, don't you have some other coustumers to take care of?
#4 How would you like to sink your spurs in that Ralph?
#5 Get your tail outa here Higbee!!!
And poor Mortimer
#6 Don't make me putt you in your place Mortimer!!
Funny how the ladies run everything.lol.
Bjrogg
That is real god Bjrogg. :OK
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Bjrogg is so totally right, especially in the turkey world, the ladies run everything and the gobblers don't even pretend to be in charge!
Up at 3:30 this morning, slugged back cold coffee from the day before while a new pot brewed. Proceeded to put on the camo overalls and get the shoulder straps adjusted and then tried to put the shirt on over....'nother cup of coffee. Could not find my wrist guard or a set of finger tabs to save my sorry life, so I threw my hands in the air and grabbed the shotgun.
I drove to the end of Schroeder Road and the Forest Service gate was open and without a second thought I drove right on through and up the road almost a mile. Parked and slipped the keys into an inner pocket of the vest, and proceeded to hump uphill to gain altitude and get into the roosting zone. I was at a spot where I had hunted deer for many times. I found it several years before on a wild goose chase after a gobbler that wouldn't shut up nor come to me! Not sure why I had not tried turkeys there afterwards, maybe the humiliation of being led by the nose over hill and dale was humiliating.
I was a little late and I could hear birds gobbling in the roost on the next ridge over and higher in elevation. I sucked heaps of clean cool air into my chest and pushed my way to the top of my ridge where it met with their ridge.
I leaned into a big old ponderosa pine and made my asthmatic lungs heave like a demented pipe organ while trying to listen for gobbles coming from the roosts. Nothing. Just nothing. I guessed that they had bailed out of the roost and were low enough that the woods and the terrain were masking any calling. I moved forward quietly and with deliberation. Once I felt I was as close as I dared, I opened the zipper pocket and pulled out the handmade granite slate with the ponderosa pine knothole pot behind it. Tattoo dave found the stone slabs here in the Black Hills last spring and collected the knothole from behind the 2016 Black Hills Primitive Archer Turkey Camp to make the call.
Batter up and the first pitch was quiet and easy. No answer back from the birds. I put a little more heat on the next series of yelps an still no answer. I pocketedd that call with the count 0 and 2, moved downhill another 50 yards. The trees opened up and there was sign of feeding from other birds, so out came the slate and cedar pot that tattoo dave sent me two years ago. I decided for a breaking curve ball and let go a low sliding repeating purr that ramped up to a couple of yelps. Three gobblers swung on that one from three different angles, all lower in elevation than me and at least 200 yards out. Suddenly, we had a ballgame!
I moved downhill through thick cover for about 75 yrds. Two of the three gobblers out front of me called sporadically, but the one to my right had gone dark. 'S all good, I whispered to my self when I found an opening and a fat ponderosa to sit against. I settled in and pulled out the two slates from Dave, the box call from buffalogobbler, and a jointed cane suction call that was softer and sweeter sounding than any wingbone call, sorry to say I cannot remember who I traded with for that call, but my love for it is not in question.
I gave a couple pulls on the suction yelper and when the gobblers responded hot, I hit them with that boxcall made from 300 yr old American chestnut. Both sounded off and Silent Bob from off to my right blew the needles out of a stretch of doghair pines! He was asserting his dominance and had cut the distance to less then 40 yards, but down the hill and out of sight.
I butt-scootched around the tree since I shoot right handed and twisting for an over the right shoulder is simply not in my game plan. A purr on the box call, and a couple putts from the cane suction call and he blew his vocal chords out again!!!
I dropped all calls and just as I reached for the shotgun I heard him pump and drum. He was less than 20 yards out and just the top of his tail and a bit of head showing. I was frozen watching him ruin his primary flight feather tips dragging them through the pine needles, dirt and duff. Three quick steps and he would shiver his tail, rotating it for the obvious pleasure of his expectant lady friend. He stared me right in the eye as he closed the gap quartering from right to left. At 15 yds he started behind two 4 inch tree trunks and some scattered doghair. My right hand scooped up the gun and brought it to my cheek in one smooth motion.
Nothing but the beak and half an eye exposed from behind the tree, he stopped. He had me fixed with Darth Vader Sith Lord Dark Side evil eye and I could feel the last breath in my chest turning rancid with carbon dioxide, but I was crucified in his gaze! If he didn't break that eye contact, it was going to be me dead. The words of Yoda came unbidden to my mind, "Do. Or do not. There is no try."
With all my effort I soft purred with my mouth, "prrrrrrrit, pit, prrrrrit pit". He shook the earth with the fury of his gobble and took a step forward. The snap of the safety was covered in his thundering roar, only now his head was down where it was obscured by grass. But the spell was broken and I was breathing like a locomotive on an 8% grade.
"Hey!" I said and his head popped straight up above the little red bead at the end of the barrel and ol' "Pecker Wrecker" spoke the benediction. Darth Gobbler's head went up like the Death Star. At a mere ten yards I hit him with every pellet in the load, the wad, and probably scorched him with powderburns!
Looking back, this would have been good for an archery set-up. I would have set the decoy downhill from me 10 yards. At his approach, I had a good screening of cover for the draw, and the 10 yd range would have been a pretty decent chip shot for the score. If I had not felt comfortable with the shot as he came out from behind the screening pines, a few more steps and he would have been past me and staring at the decoy with his fan blocking view of me...and again, screening for a smooth draw.
Is what is is. I still have that archery tag to fill by the 21st. There are still birds out there. This assisted suicide 2 yr old bird tipped the scale at 18 lbs, plenty big for our smaller bodied Merriam's turkeys. We will see how this plays out from here.
High points:
1) Public land
2) self guided
3) self called
4) absolute fair chase, no cheating with long range risky shots (had I not taken the shot at that distance, I may have been sexually assaulted by this horn-dog!)
5) No hiding in a blind.
6) Not a speck of meat damaged and I will eat everything off him, legs, wings, heart, too. The neck and back, being lead free, will be fed to our larger birds at the Black Hills Raptor Center. Sadly, our reat horned owl, Icarus, passed away this last winter. She LOOOVED wild turkey neck and I suspect she ate a few in the wild. Wing primaries and secondaries as well as tail will go to fletching. The beautiful black feathers from the back/cape will become a handmade custom feather duster. Toenails and spurs will be cleaned up, polished, and added to a necklace.
7) All the calls were made by people I love and respect from Primitive Archery
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Way to go JW :OK - Thanks for taking Me along with You, always enjoy Your Hunts :G ! Bob
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Congratulations JW. Reading this got me all primed for my turkey hunt this week. My season starts today but I have to work. I will get out Friday. Not sure I can wait after reading this.
Mike
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Congratulations JW great hunt. Thanks for sharing it with us. That archery Tom is still out there and those hens will soon be tired of him. Hopefully you can score on that hunt to. Kinda ironic that on a lone hunt you brought so many fine PA members with you. I telling you, good mojo.
Bjrogg
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Well Done! :OK
A good tale and well told Sir.
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Great story John! Glad I could be a part of it! Good shootin.
Tattoo Dave
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Excellent writing as usual John, and congrats on the bird.
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Great story.. Congrats on the gobbler JW.. Nice that nothing will go to waste
Thanks Leroy
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Thanks for taking Me along with You
well said, and congrats
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Great story JW ....... Story telling is a lost art these days......Knowing this was a true story makes it even better....really enjoyed it.
Thanks and congrats on the bird....
DBar
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Now that's American literature at its finest! I felt like I was right there with you. :) :G :G :G
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And in classic Paul Harvey fashion...And now....the REST....of the story!
I hiked down the hill from the slaughter site. Judging from the amount of blood spray, disturbed ground, and body feathers strewn about, at least 20 gobblers had been hit with a clusterbomb, hehehe. The road where I had parked the Jeep was just a few hundred yards down below me, an easy walk. At the road, I knew I had a mile to walk back to the Jeep and I was not willing to carry that heavy bird, the vest full of water bottles, snax, spare shells, and all those calls....so I stashed vest, shotgun, and bird under a blowdown pine tree out of sight from the road and walked the mile back to the Jeep.
Now, all the way to the Jeep I was thinking about Ron's Cafe on West Main Street. I was arguing with myself whether to order the biscuits and gravy or the polish sausage, hashbrowns, and eggs plate. I was leaning towards the lighter biscuits and gravy when I got to the vehicle and realized that the keys were in my vest pocket. A mile back up the road.
With my head hanging I turned to walk back to the spot where I had hidden my booty to retrieve the keys. On the way, I threw out the lighter biscuits and gravy option, telling myself I had earned the heavier breakfast with it's extra fat, cholesterol, and salt! In my self congratulatory calorie induced haze of appetite and need for caffeine I managed to walk right past where I had left the bird and gear. As I turned back around to try finding my stuff, keys most of all, I realized that what I REALLY deserved was BOTH! Yes, dammit! I was gonna order the sausage, hashbrowns, and eggs platter with the biscuits and gravy on the side, for crying out loud!
By the time I had found the keys, I had gone through every single pocket of that Cabelas dee-luxe turkey vest at least twice. Do you know how dad-blasted pockets those vests have??? By then, the sausage had been thrown out the window for a steak, hashbrowns and a Denver dang-nab-it omelette with the biscuits and gravy on the side and a cup of coffee for EACH hand!
I will admit I was a bit weak kneed and wobbly by the time I got the key in the ignition and fired up ol' Blue Dog, the Jeep. I always claim I am gonna get in shape before turkey season, but somehow time flows backwards and I end up in shape AFTER season. Rinse and repeat for deer season for best results.
I rolled up the road to pick up my gear, caught my breath, and was feeling pretty proud of myself for a heck of a good hunt. All told, it was mere minutes from the first set of gobbles until I dropped the anvil on that B-52 roadrunner's scrawny head! Pert' near as good as sex and took about as long!
Pause the tape with me driving out on the Forest Service access gravel road. Now lemme take you back to the 4:00 a.m. drive coming out to hunt. Bear with me, this has a lot to do with what was about to happen. At about 4:00 a.m. when I hit the end of Schroeder Road and transferred wheels from paved county road to gravel Forest Service access trail, I did not spend a moment thinking about why the gate was open. I just rolled through in a demi-fog of sleep deprivation and insufficient blood sugar, having skipped a nutritious breakfast. Not even an inkling of a suspicion of an idea as to why the gate that has historically been locked on December 15th through March 15th since time immemorial has suddenly been laid open on May 2nd.
Ok, now roll tape with me driving up the gravel only to find a large steel gate with two large and pendulous (and somewhat suggestively) dangling padlocks barring my egress from the Black Hills National Forest Service land. I got out of the vehicle and walked up to the gate with my jaw hanging down and drawing flies like Jack Dawson on the Titanic drew his French girls!
I was gonna have to call the Forest Service offices south of town and ask them to send out someone to let me out of an area where I was not allowed to be, effectively turning myself in. The person they were likely to dispatch with the tiny little half ounce brass key was also likely to be carrying a very official looking pad of officious looking tickets with plenty of spaces to fill in my personal and pertinent information with his official shiny Federally issued inkpen. No amount of wriggling was gonna get this fish off the hook.
As I patted down my pockets, the exercise must have pushed a last little bit of blood into one of the back recesses of my brain where memory is stored and what little bit of caffeine left in the bloodstream tickled a neuron or three. I seemed to remember when shutting off the alarm programmed into the phone that there was a reminder from Verizon that my phone's security package was sadly out of date and that I should opt to download the updates, which would take about 45 minutes and they recommend that I have it connected to WiFi in order to do so efficiently and not interrupt my service too badly. I had hit the ok button and tossed the phone back onto the bed thinking to myself that I would have had spotty cellphone coverage anyway and if I left the damn thing home, I could better concentrate on the work at hand. Yup. My phone was at home. That whole episode with the keys was just a warm up to this screw up, son, well and truly.
Fortunately, South Dakota being South Dakota, I was no more than a mile down the road when someone I knew came driving down the road and stopped. They were kind enough to drop me at my house on their way in to work. Of course, that was about the time I realized that the keys were in the vehicle. Locked outa my house with a vehicle locked behind gates eight miles away, standing there knowing any breakfast option, now with a caramel roll for desert, was likely to be hours off in the future.
It only took me three tries to figure out what the four digit code on the garage door was, and I was into the garage and looking for the spare key somewhere on the work bench. Some of you have seen my workbench and you are likely keeled over on the floor gasping for breath like a beached carp laughing like deranged lunatics at the idea of me finding any-bloody-thing at all on that bench. But the laugh is on you, fools. It took me less than an hour. And in the process, I happened to come across a half full quart can of acetone, which really came in handy because the key happened to be sitting in a pool of Lok-Tite gel superglue on the bench, so there!
Just a metter of minutes to get the right staff on the phone at the Forest Service. Then I called a friend that works night shift to get him the hell out of bed on his morning off to drive me out to meet my lawbreaking fate. All told, the Forest Service guy was happier to see me than my dear nite shift working friend that wore his pajamas driving me out to get my vehicle, but that ain't saying much at all.
That's pretty much the rest of the story. I killed the bird by about 6:45 a.m., but I wasn't really home until noon. The fellow with the Forest Service knew me from Stick and String League archery from years ago and had been several raptor programs I had done. No ticket, just a stern warning and I had to show him on his official Forest Service topographical maps where the birds had been roosting. Small price to pay. He and I are planning on going out later this week with our bows to see if I can work my Primitive Archery friendship turkey call mojo for him. Mind you, we will be parking on Schroeder Road by 3:15 to make the three mile hike to the roost spot on time!
So, those are the two sides of my morning. Take the good with the bad. Mix with a little stoicism and a cup of black coffee, it all worked out in the end.
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Did you used to write for the "I Love Lucy Show"? ;D ;D ;D
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I need a book written by you John.
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One thing you forgot JW, "And now you know, the rest of the story" good day?
Bjrogg
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But...but...but what did you finaly eat????
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Methinks he had steak, eggs, biscuits, gravy, potatoes, sausage, bacon, ham, coffee, and probably at least one double of his favorite beverage. A very good hunting tale, JW👹👹😂 :G! Good luck on the bow portion. When we get our bird, I may spring for for a bottle of 12 year old Tullamore DEW. I think we are going out this weekend. We wil be gunning, though. Hopefully, be able to try archery in the fall.
Hawkdancer
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But...but...but what did you finaly eat????
Crow, Bubby. I ate crow.
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Outstanding JW - My sides are hurtin' from the laugh (A). Bob
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What a tale! Congrats and bon appetite.
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Great story, great hunt... congrats
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JW, your story makes my turkey hunt this morning seem very, very boring. Very entertaining.
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JW, your story makes my turkey hunt this morning seem very, very boring. Very entertaining.
I wish for a boring day after that one!
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Ain't no boring days hunting -some are just more exciting than others👹👹😂😀. Hope everybody can come up with a match for JW's tale!, and make meat! Or at least a good story about the one that got away. Remember, a bad day hunting or fishing is better than a good day at work👹😀😂
Hawkdancer
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I call those days the"dreaded Bozo days" and have had many in my past but none quite as colorful as yours.
Thanks for the great story!
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JW, I have turkey legs in the pressure cooker right now. I will post my story in a new thread when I get time.
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(http://i365.photobucket.com/albums/oo100/JW_Halverson/Hunting%20albums/2017%20Turkey/092_zpsaoymini9.jpg) (http://s365.photobucket.com/user/JW_Halverson/media/Hunting%20albums/2017%20Turkey/092_zpsaoymini9.jpg.html)
Here are the four calls I carried that fateful morning. From left to right, the boxcall from buffalogobbler (made from a 300 yr old American chestnut), then the Black Hills granite slate with the ponderosa pine knothole for the pot made by tattoo dave, the segmented cane suction call that I STILL cannot remember who made for me, but DANG it calls sweet, and then the slate and cedar pot call made by tattoo dave.
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That's a great pic John!
Tattoo Dave
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That picture would look awfully good in the pages of PA magazine. Just saying....
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That picture would look awfully good in the pages of PA magazine. Just saying....
I agree JW, great story, great hunt. Told you there was a lot of good mojo there. Guess it all runs out when the hunt is over though.lol.
Bjrogg
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Just catchin' up after five days at the Classic, as Holeinthebowchuck and I pulled into Pappy's place last Wed. morning, there was a long bearded tom in the field across the road and I wondered how JW was progressing with his black hills hunt
I'm happy to read that it was a success :-M :G
Congrats John!
just a suggestion, you should also make wingbone calls from the wings, they are very easy to make, and a great way to remember the hunt, you can write all of the important hunt info. on the call.
As for the rest of the story, I can sympathize with you a little bit, having been caught behind a forest service gate myself in the past. Lucky for me though, it was a chain across the road and we figured that if we took the canoe off of the top of the car we might just have enough room to get under it, so with me holding the chain as high as I could force it my girlfriend at the time scraped the car underneath and we were free!
No home town greasy spoon for us at the time, we headed for Micky Dee's.
Kevin
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Nice lookin' bird you got there. Congrats!