Primitive Archer
Main Discussion Area => Shooting and Hunting => Topic started by: JW_Halverson on April 12, 2014, 09:14:07 pm
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I shot my first ever gobbler from this roost site quite a few years back. Every shotgun I own has taken a bird from this site, with one exception: my new .62 cal smoothbore flintlock. And I had a good chance to do that this morning, opening day for gun hunter's turkey season.
Last nite I put the birds to bed on the roost. I saw at least 5 gobblers and a good dozen hens fly up well before sunset. From where I sat in a thick tangle of blowdown ponderosa pines, I had a decent view and could slip in and out unseen. I went to bed with visions of sugarplums exploding against a mature gobbler's bean!
I was up at 4:00 a.m., fed and walked the dog, put her back in her kennel, and headed out. I had loaded the shotgun the night before, dug out the 3 segment cane yelper made by Jonathon Creason, and the box call I won at the Tennessee Classic Raffle last year. I knew the yelper would work, it brought in my bird last year. I had high hopes for the box call, and I knew since both had strong ties to this forum they also carried strong mojo.
I slipped in under cover of darkness and set up quite close to the roost site. On previous scouting trips, I had determined which route they take and I was in their path. Before long, the cool grey dawn was shattered by gobbles, double gobbles, yelps and freeform attempts at yelps by at least one ambitious but immature jake. I was in, in deep, and in like Flynn!
I gave a few soft tree yelps with the cane yelper and had gobbles immediately answering. Time to shut up, I had already established my bona fides as a hot hen and they knew where to find me. I closed my eyes and leaned back against the tree to await the sounds of fly-down. There was a boss hen on the roost with a deep growling yelp, very distinctive. She was singing me a lullaby when I heard another hen behind me. Resisting all urges to peek around the tree, I slowly lifted the box call and gave a couple soft tree yelps. The birds in the roost ahead of me responded, but the bird behind me said, "They're hot!" and them proceeded to yelp madly.
Risking a shot to the head, I leaned over and hollered, "TURKEY HUNTER!" The two bozos clad from head to toe with the finest sporting goods store patented, copywritten 3D designer approved camo continued to work that box call like they were going to play the entire William Tell Overture (Lone Ranger Theme) on it. I hollered again at them, but they didn't make any response, they just kept beating the living tar out of the box call.
When the birds pitched out of the tree they headed downhill to a busy highway and crossed over without hesitation rather than deal with a hen that can't shut her freaking yap! Not a single alarm putt from those birds, they were as calm and cool as a cucumber, they just didn't like the excessive trash talk.
*sigh* That would have been the 9th bird for me on that roost site. But at least they didn't scare off too badly. Overnight rain turning to snow shortly before dawn....and I am bailing out of my warm bed at 4:00 again, weather be damned. Bad weather will shield me from those fairweather fools. Tomorrow is my day. Why? Because I am a turkey hunter. That's why.
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Thanks for the story. Sorry you had some bad luck with the gizmo guys. I'm certain that was just a bump in the road.
What type of load are you using in your smooth bore?
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70 grains of FFg DuPont, cushion wad over that, slice the top off a 12 gauge bismuth duck load of an ounce and an eighth #4's, dump that down the pipe, and a card wad over top. The pattern is not great, but at 20 yds it is more than tight enough to do the deal.
Just wish I could find more of those 1990's era bismuth shells. I'm down to about half a dozen. The other non-toxic shot is too hard for the barrel, especially since I am not shooting plastic (oh horrors!) wads.
The snow is supposed to taper off about 4:00 a.m. That will shut down most turkey hunters. The rain and snow will soften the pine needles and sticks on the forest floor, silencing my steps. I should be able to slip right under them tomorrow morning, mwahahahaha. Yeah, right?
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Better luck today Jdub ! Our season doesn't start till the end of the Month. Yesterday afternoon it was in the high 50's and had T Storm front roar thru - high winds/heavy rain and hail. Looked out after the shear winds and there were Birds strutting in the pouring rain and wind. Love is in the air :laugh:.
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Better luck today Jdub ! Our season doesn't start till the end of the Month. Yesterday afternoon it was in the high 50's and had T Storm front roar thru - high winds/heavy rain and hail. Looked out after the shear winds and there were Birds strutting in the pouring rain and wind. Love is in the air :laugh:.
I was about to leave home this morning when I got a call from a friend. Last nite I had told him about the debacle earlier in the day. He relates he had gone up and sat on that roost site last nite to scout for me. He said exactly one bird had come in and roosted, one very large and mature gobbler. He said the rest of the flock had set up across the hiway on private land, hen-gobblers-jakes-whathaveyou.
I drove out calculating my chances. One solitary bird on the roost. With last nite's rain and littlel skiff of snow, I knew I would be able to move silent as an owl fart and could get right under the roost. I could take the bird right as he hit the ground without any other birds being disturbed off the site. Generally, shooting a bird right on the roost site will spook the birds off that site sometimes for years to come. Not generally a wise choice. Far as I can tell, if I took the one bird on that roost, none would live to tell the tale and the site would remain a viable roost.
That meant I could take the shortest, albeit steepest, climb to position. This also takes me under several of the best roost trees, so I HAVE to be quiet to say the least. I arrived early, no other vehicles parked nearby! Woohoo! I pulled the shotgun over my shoulder (chickened out and brought the modern 12 gauge), grabbed a padded cushion and started to glide up the hill. Several new blowdowns from the October blizzard blocked the steep deer trail, so I had to make a few detours, but I was on the spot in minutes and had my back against a large ponderosa pine while it was still black as the inside of an abandoned coal mine.
I settled in and checked the time, almost 50 minutes to sunrise, 20 minutes to legal shooting hours. With the cloud ceiling blocking out all starlight and the moon, the blustery wind, and the rain turning to snow...it was a lead pipe cinch that the birds would not pitch down from their roosts this morning until much later than normal. I made ready to spend a loooong time waiting.
The main flock across the hiway lit up about 10 minutes after legal shooting hours, which is 30 minutes before sunrise. There had to be at least 8 gobblers across the road and untold numbers of hens. My one and only, sad and lonely, solitary gobbler answered them with singles-doubles-and triple gobbles as the birds carped and moaned about the morning weather! He was deep in the narrow draw and low down on his chosen roost tree. Bad news for me, I had strong suspicions of his impending behavior.
Thinking I did not want to over play my hand like the clowns did yesterday, I opted to do no more than a few low tree yelps and stay quiet. Just let him think a hen sneaked in late, just a little something for him and him alone over here on the far side of the hiway from the rest of the flock. He liked the sound of the river cane segmented yelper. Soft yelps with the bell end of the yelper buried in my gloved hand to muffle the sound. But he lit up like Handel's Messiah Hallelujiah Chorus every time he heard it.
6:14 a.m., nearly a full half hour after legal shooting hours and I have given him no more than 4 sets of tree yelps. I hear the sound of him "rouse", shaking his feathers to get everything arranged, and I know he is ready to pitch. Get an idea how close I was to the roost....I could hear him rustle feathers! He pitches out of the tree and it is over in a flash. That's it, folks, that's the ballgame, thanks for coming, have a nice drive home.
Yup, he flew across the road to join the rest of the flock.
So. I gotta ask. At the risk of him pinpointing me and busting the game up, should I have called more aggressively? Aggressive calling may have convinced him I was hot and ready, fre for the taking, his and his alone.
By the way, in the three minutes it took me to hike back to the vehicle, the woods went from being full of gobbles and yelps to graveyard quiet. These birds are henned up tight. Talked with a couple guys that stayed out all day working site after site, only to have them tell me the only gobbling they heard was in the trees. Once their feet hit dirt, their beaks were sealed tight.
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I have been part of that same play more times than I like to think about. Yesterday morning actually was pretty much the same. Less than 100 yards and gobbled at everything I offered. Flew down and away, going silent. Glad it's not easy or predictable or I wouldn't enjoy it as much. ::)
I have taken two birds with a Caywood Wilson 20 gauge Smoothbore flintlock. I found that packing a wad of tow over the shot did not break-up the pattern as bad. I suspect the heavy shot passes through the tow once it leaves the barrel unlike a card in front. I also found the lighter the powder charge the better the pattern, but that was also a downfall of mine. I shot two birds within 20 yards and they ran off. What I found out was the pattern was great but no killing power. I put an empty Dinty Moore stew can at 20 yards and shot it, finding my shot would not penetrate one side. Up the powder charges until I got several two side pass throughs and many one side. The next two birds went down flopping. I also use a mix of 6 and 7 shot, since the range is short those shot sizes will be effective and make a denser pattern. Good Luck and I hope you keep after them with your BP gun.
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I am getting two sides of penetration with the old baked bean can trick at 25 yds at this point. The barrel has NO choke whatsoever, so I think I am doing good to be confident with the 20 yds. There is plenty of barrel thickness at the muzzle that I could send the barrel off for jug choke job, just unsure if I wanna go thru that because there is really no guarantees. I'm told it really does not change the barrel much for shooting patched roundballs, if done properly. Key word, properly.
I am content to keep a 20 yd limit for the gun, all but one turkey I have shot in my life was beyond that mark, anyway. What with bismuth being less dense than lead, I am loathe to go much smaller in shot size, even if I could find the factory shells to cannibalize.
I would ask what you think of the Caywood, but I know how they build their guns. No need to answer.
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You didn't hear it from me, but,,,, sometimes it pays to shoot/ scare the boss hen. ::) ;) 8)
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I would have played the game just as You did Jdub - That's why they call it Hunting. Bob
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Sounds like some exciting hunting JW! I'm sure you will stick with it and probably end up w/ a bird. If not, a dang good story anyway.
Have fun, cluck cluck...gobble gobble gobble, dp
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Thanks for the hunting stories, good luck on your next hunt and wanted to let you know Cabela's has the Bismuth shells. Ed
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Thanks, Ed. I will run over there this week and see what our local Cabelas carries. They are good about ordering from other stores or the catalog for us.
Yeah, Chamook, it's called hunting. It's a game of numbers, weighing choices based on experiences, and spending time in the field. Never ceases to amaze me how many times I think I got a brass railroad lock on a bird only to be proven dead wrong. There was this one bird we called Triphammer, because he gobbled on the roost like a triphammer...bang, bang, bang! 29 days out of a 45 day season I hunted that ONE bird. I hope he suffered arthritis and kidney stones and all the other stuff that goes with old age, because he sure as h*** didn't ever die of lead poisoning! He about ruined me for turkey hunting!
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Hey JW, sounds like you have a good load for turkeys. The Caywood I purchased was one of the early ones and I really like it. I heard later on that the quality went down and the barrel to stock fitting was not as good. I hate that, but mine was one of the good ones. Never had any problems with it.
Went out yesterday and had a big ole boss hen come in close and started barking at me like a dog. She was telling me to get over there and come with her and the gobbler. Only time I enjoy being scolded by a boss hen. The gobbler eventually let out one more gobble and she turned and joined him, leaving me behind.... :'(
That's determination on that Triphammer bird, sorry you didn't get him. Sometimes the memory and challenge of hunting one single bird, then not getting him is the best.....Yeah right! >:D
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I think the only thing more fun than getting a gobbler so hot he stutters when he gobbles, is getting a hen so mad she spits at you! I've had only one good cuttin' fight with a hen in the last 5 years and it ended with 4 yr old boss gobbler getting brainpanned by a 16 yr old novice! Both me and the kid were mighty satisfied with ourselves that day!
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Great stories JW! Only turkey hunting can take me so low I will curse it and swear to never hunt them again, and the next minute I can't imagine not chasing longbeards. Good luck! I hope you get one!
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Great stories JW! Only turkey hunting can take me so low I will curse it and swear to never hunt them again, and the next minute I can't imagine not chasing longbeards. Good luck! I hope you get one!
Ain't that the dirty low-down truth!
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JW Thanks for sharing your hunts! I have the same obsession and experiences with bugling elk! Getting past the cows is the biggest challenge. Barking and talking cows that are always on the alert can ruin a chance to call in a big brain dead bull. Some kind of fun to have a big bull come in all covered with mud, wetting all over the place, answering a challenge from what he thinks is another bull. Hard to get a bull license here on the ranch so just calling them in for the fun! Joe
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J.W. I used my 12 gauge double, to hunt doves, and it patterned great. Used WWAA wads, and over shot wads, made from styrofoam meat trays, that I cut out with a punch. I also used it to hunt the swamps, with one barrel loaded with double ought and the other loaded with three.45 caliber lead balls. I uh heard of someone who occasionally would take double ought, and split it half way through, and put a piece of mono, in, and close the split, and repeat that with two more, and repeat the process with two more sets....... it patterns well, I mean it is supposed to pattern well.... ::) What gauge is .69? Around 16, or 20? See if you can get some plastic wads, and either batten, or tow, over shot wads, or the styrofoam. You can cut cross hatches in the styrofoam, to better break up, and not interfere with the pattern. I know you want to shoot, all primitive, and all, just saying....... Besides Bismuth is not exactly primitive, or period correct either ...... ::)....... just saying...... ;)
Wayne
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As for those yahoos that kept yelping, even after you identified yourself, probably went home, or to the bar, and lamented as how they came back empty handed, because someone from peta had scared all the birds away! Kept yelling Turkey Hunter!! Should of looked for his vehicle and dumped turkey poop on it! Yeah, right when we had them really yelping, we kept the conversations going, till this peta guy starts yelling Turkey Hunter! I going to talk to the game commission about that! ::) Unfortunately it happens. I had a nice sawgrass pond all staked out, and I knew there should be a buck in there, and I am up in a tree, overlooking the sawgrass pond, and here comes a swamp buggy, heading right for the pond, I am thinking, will the buck hold tight, or bolt? He holds tight, and the buggy, comes up on him jumps him, and dumps him. I went home. :(
Wayne
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Joe, I think there is a reason God put me in a place with very few chances to hunt elk. The very act of decoy and/or calling an animal in while hunting is my greatest weakness. Ducks over decoys on a pothole when I was a kid in the duck factory of North Dakota, talking turkey in the woods, buck snorting and rattling antlers....this stuff is a drug! I think I would simply burst like an overfilled waterballoon working a hot bull elk. It may be for the good, like I said.
Ok, Wednesday morning I went up to 128 Roost. I was in way early again and got right up nice and tight under the roost. I had the box call I had won last year at the Tennessee Classic, but had forgotten the rivercane yelper. Dawn came slipping in wearing her silent moccasins, without a sound but stirring everyone one way or another.
Apparently my Redwing boots were soft as braintan this morning because as the dawn came, the humps and bumps of the ground turned out to be 6 fat muley does bedded and sound asleep. As the first awoke and began sniffing the air a mere 20 yds from me, she snorted like she had gotten a nose full of full strength Drain-O! She was on her feet with the rest of her sisters in a flash and bounding every which way. They knew Man was there, but not where he was. It was Keystone Kops stuff and I nearly blew up stifling laughter.
Their commotion woke the birds on roost and alarm putts went off! I swear it sounded like a JiffyPop factory on fire! Birds, and plenty of them! Downside of the whole thing....they were 75 yds away and across a highway from me. This hiway leads to many subdivisions that are bedroom communities and this was a weekday workday. By the time I parked the traffic was already starting. By flydown there would be a steady stream of SUV's, minivans, and soccer moms heading for their Stabucks fix and their workaday lives.
I was devastated for the third time on this roost this year. Zero for 3 smarts, but not the worst streak I have ever played thru. Time to make lemonade from this big yellow sucker in my lap! I began to key off the dominant hen. She sounded like a two pack a day smoker, so raspy and deep. I wanted to see if I could get her mad enough to get into a cutting fight. Maybe one of the less dominant toms would move over this side and roost up for me for tomorrow!
I got her hot and bothered and that wound up the toms tighter than a $3 watch! The gobblers were blowing their pipes out and the hens were getting pretty smart mouthed with me. It was starting to get embarrassingly personal, the turkey insults were edging into inappropriate subjects, so I decided to ramp things up a bit more.
I got up and started to walk down the ridgeline parallel to the hiway, calling every few steps. At 75 yds, I turned 180 and walked back even faster, calling all the while. Back and forth on the ridgeline, walking faster, finally jogging back and forth. The hens across the road were whipped to a froth when I realized I had not heard a gobbler in a while. Just that moment I heard yet another car coming down the road, accellerating out of the corner....until the brakes came on and the tires began to squeal! OH BATCRAP!
I dropped the call and ran like mad for my seat cushion beneath the tall ponderosa 75 yds away. That's where my shotgun lay. I skidded to my knees as the first gobble from 30 yds out erupted. Another gobble and a double gobble as I got my knees up and the shotgun in position. The safety clicked off and the birds were so close it caused an alarm putt. The red head appeared less than 20 yds away, walking up the hill towards me. He looked at me and turned to my left, putting like nuts! His breast came over the rise and I saw beard. Another step and I pulled the trigger.
I was carrying the Benelli this morning, and it spoke with supreme authority. I had loaded with Hevy Shot magnum duck loads in #4's. It was a sealed deal instantly! I found the bird at the bottom of the hill deader than Fatty Arbuckles movie career. He was a plump 2 yr old. Not a bad beard for a 2 yr old, but nothing to brag about.
He's a trophy to me because of how the morning played out. I was at a big disadvantage from the get-go. I played the hand I was dealt, bluffed like a boss, went all-in, and won the pot.
Like I told Joe, calling or decoying just thrills me. I find there is an ethical side to it that other hunting maybe doesn't carry. Here I am beating them at their own game, they are not going to be in range unless I can convince them that is where they WANT to be. What a wonderful morning. I was home and making coffee before 6:15 a.m.
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Alright ! As usual Jdub, You put Me right next to You during the Hunt. Always fun to play the game, Glad Ya WON this one - two Thumbs up ! bob
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JW: You are one of a kind and I am very glad I got to meet you here at my house! Your quick wit amazes me! I have a turkey permit this year. The turkeys are in the mountains and the roads are still closed so hope to give it a go after the first! My wife and I spent the day in the back country of the ranch yesterday and we must have seen at least a 1000 head of elk in several big herds. It's next to impossible to draw a bull tag but that doesn't mean we can't spend some time calling them. You are welcome to come with me to try to out wit some big old bulls next fall! Thanks for the story, it was great as usual. Joe
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Chamook, we all know the win was just a cherry on top. It's the chance to get in the game, a chance to be suited up and on the field that counts. And that's why I work so hard getting out the conservation message, if we, the people that hunt and fish don't work to conserve what we have, it's over folks.
We have to stand up to the anti's on one hand, and those with incredible resources that would wrap up the leases and access to keep the "unwashed masses" and the working class from having opportunity. We consciously refused to follow the European model where the landowner (our so-called betters, out Lords of the Manor House) owns the wildlife, and the commoners were poachers. Our concept of the wildlife being a public resource was a radical concept. It's had it's problems with overharvest and loss of populations, but we're learning better how to manage and conserve the resource.
Look at the wild turkey. Once it was scattered over much of North America, but after unlimited harvest and los of habitat, they were reduces to populations only in a few scattered places. Today, thru conservation efforts we have turkeys in 49 states here in the U.S. Places where they were never native, they are now exhibiting huntable populations!
Conservation can be as simple as pushing your best ethics when you have a conversation with friends and acquaintances. It's a grassroots thing, always has been, and always should be. I don't have kids and I never will. But the idea of your children not getting to enjoy a morning's overwhelming frustration while having a turkey hunt screwed up saddens me. Kids should get to experience these incredible lows and the inevitable highs that come along with them. So, I am another Don Quixote tilting at a windmill. There is no way someone as small and unimportant as me will change the world. But I might change a few people's minds, and they in turn change a few others. It's a theme that runs deep in this community here on Primitive Archer Magazine's Message Boards...passing it along.
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JW, congrats on your bird and thanks for the excellent story.
I also found elk bugling and calling as addicting as turkey hunting. A lot more hiking and climbing with elk hunting, but when it is on and you are in it...Amazing!. Wish I was 20-30 years younger.
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I think I should explain the name of this roost site. I shot my first gobbler off this roost site about 13 years ago. The next spring I went up the morning before opening day and found that the area had been aggressively thinned and the trees stacked in great long wind rows. To say the least I stood there in the dark hours before dawn heartbroken. I just knew it was over and done for this roost site. I sat down to think about my next step when I heard a soft yelp in the trees below the ridgeline.
I stuck around that morning and tried counting the birds as they pitched off the roost. Impossible! Eventually, the birds began to work across a small bench and up the ridgeline towards a subdivision of million dollar yuppie McMansions. I picked out two small and skinny pines and counted every bird as it passed between. If they crossed back, I subtracted them. When they were all gone, I was beyond astounded. I counted 128 turkeys roosted on that site
Two days later the regional director of the South Dakota Wild Turkey Federation was up on this roost at my recommendation and he was floored! Randy nearly crapped himself at fly-down! He says that was one of the highest populated roosts he had ever seen in his career as a turkey fanatic. Granted, those were banner years when there was a gobbler every 250 yards up and down a ridgeline and dozens of subdominant birds skulking around between. This roost has had birds shot OUT OF THE TREES IN THE DARK, had deer hunters set treestands in their roosts, have been repeatedly hunted by some of the most inept turkey hunters around (myself included)...and yet it persists.
(http://i365.photobucket.com/albums/oo100/JW_Halverson/Hunting%20albums/SAM_0229_zps9cce42f2.jpg) (http://s365.photobucket.com/user/JW_Halverson/media/Hunting%20albums/SAM_0229_zps9cce42f2.jpg.html)
Two year old horndog with blunt spurs and a fat little 5" beard. Yummy, nummy, gobble gobble!
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In a little more than two weeks, iowabow will be snacking on turkey sandwiches and hoping for a shot at this guy's brothers!
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Those are great stories JW. They incorporate all the essential aspects of turkey hunting: excitement, frustration, surprise, bewilderment, heartbreak; and most of all, (perhaps irrational) hope. I'm currently in my 14th turkey season, and I have one whole turkey to show for it. I think my family thinks I'm completely crazy to wake up early on my day off, drive a half hour to get cold, dirty and wet just to come home to report hearing or seeing nothing. Rarely, I'll ask myself if it's worth it too, but every time I'm in the woods, especially in the spring, I see something in nature that makes each trip all worth it. Will I get a turkey this year? Given my track record, probably not. Will I have a great season and do it all again next year? You betcha!
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Ah yes, that essential vainglorious irrational hope! Lotta mornings I feel like the character in the Peanuts cartoon, Linus. Just sitting there alone in my punkin patch waiting for the Great Pumpkin!