April 23
On monday morning, at 5:30 in Hocking Co., I headed up the hill across the creek from the campsite in hopes of bagging a big gobbler. My plan was to walk the ridge top and listen for a tom to gobble on the roost and set up and call to him before he flies down. After huffing and puffing my way up the 250+ ft climb I stood for a few minutes to catch my breath. Shortly a tom gobbled just below me down the ridge aways.
I quickly dropped off just below the top of the ridge and set up against a tree and sound a few yelps from by box call. Just a few minutes later a heard another hunter coming my way and I hollered at him to let him know where I was. He retreated back down the ridge from which he came. Well after calling off and on to the still gobbling tom for the next half hour he finally flew down from his perch, but he flew in the opposite direction, towards the other hunter! I could hear the tom gobble as he walk around the side of the ridge, he was going away from me.
Well I gave up on him and walked further along the ridge while calling occasionally but I did not get any responses. I eventually set up 2 decoys on a the end of a long grassy saddle. I had just made a few calls and figured that it would be awhile before any turkeys might come in, so I took off my camo gloves and face net to grab a snack to eat. Yep, you guessed it, out of the corner of my eye I noticed a white and red head just above a fallen log not 10 yards to my right. He busted me, and disappeared in a flash. That was it for the rest of the morning. Since you can only hunt until noon in Ohio my first day of hunting was over without taking a turkey.
Now the 'rest of the story'.
On my way back to camp I walked along the ridge to the spot that the other hunter went to after he ran into me. And there on the forest floor where dozens of turkey feathers! At least there was one happy hunter on that ridge that day...
April 24
Not much to tell. It was rainy, cold and windy (excuses?). Only heard one bird gobbling all morning and it was on another ridge. Saw one turkey in a clearcut as I rounded a bend on a path. Did not get a good look at it but I tried calling to it but did not get a response, might have been another hen.
Well I plan on going again this coming weekend, maybe I will have some good news!
Once again at 5:30 Saturday morning I started my climb up to the top of an East/West ridge that is some 250 feet above the campsite. Craig headed out to a hillside West of camp on property that belongs to Mead Paper. I will tell my story first.
By the time I reached the path on top of the ridge the Eastern sky was pink from the first rays of the sun. As I stood there to catch my breath a Tom gobbled just below me on the North side of the ridge. It was about 6:05. As I started East along the ridgetop to set up my decoys two more gobblers sounded simultaneously off from their roost not 150 yards West of the first gobbler. I decided to set up between the first Tom and the other gobblers.
As I took a step towards the gobblers the dry leaves crunched beneath my boot. In fear of spooking the roosted birds I decided to set my two decoys up just off the path towards the turkeys. I put the Jake close to the path and the hen just to left. The theory is that the mature Tom comes in and sees the Jake and wants to kick his butt and run him away from the hen.
I found a tree to set against just 10-12 yards down the opposite slope that the turkeys were on. I could see my decoys on the top of the ridge but not anything on the other side of them because the hill drops off quickly. Try to keep all of this in mind because it will come into play shortly.
I then make a few soft purrs and clucks with a slate call and the one Tom answers with a booming gobble. A few minutes later the gobbles are getting closer. He is coming towards me. Now I can hear him stomping through the woods sounding like Bigfoot. As I am looking at the Jake decoy I can hear the Tom coming closer and closer to the right of the decoy. I point my shotgun in the direction of the sound and a few seconds a big blue and red head appears through the greenbriar. It is too thick to chance a shot. The big Tom eyes the Jake and starts to strut but he is tangled up in the greenbriar. He then goes down the hill a little ways and I can hear him walking just below the Jake and hen decoy. Finally I hear him walking back up towards the Jake. By this time I am looking down the barrel and have the safety off and finger on the trigger. I could taste the deep fried turkey together with mashed potatoes and greenbeans!
Just then about two feet to the right of the fake Jake the old Longbeard appears again in full strut. As I cheeked the stock of my shotgun to draw a bead on the big boy?s head he spooks and goes back down the hill again! Man, just one more second and the shot would have been off! I then hear him walking back in forth and doing the spit and drumming routine where he goes into full strut and displays his feathers and makes a spitting sound and moves his wing feathers to make the drumming sound. This goes on for about five minutes or so, all the while I am making hen calls to try to convince him that there is another hen on my side of the ridge. Finally I hear him walk off while gobbling occasionally. He headed off to my right(East) still on the other side of the ridge.
After a few minutes I quickly gather up my decoys and head East along the top of the ridge hoping to head off the Tom where the ridge comes to a long point. Well only after walking 50 yards or so I hear some loud purrs and limbs breaking directly down below me. I could see hens dropping down from the trees and running everywhere. I looked at my watch, it was 7:00. Just then a hen runs up the hill just East of me. I then heard the Tom gobble a few times and it sounded like he was following her. I quickly found a tree to set against and the hen comes up the hill and gets to the path and walks directly towards me. The Tom now comes up the hill and stops in half strut about 60 yards from me. He is looking at the hen who is now only 15 yards from me and is at a dead stop just staring my way.
I hoped that the hen would pull in the Tom. I could not make any calls with my mouth diaphragm call in fear that the hen would hear/see me and run off taking the Tom with her. She finally walks behind me and goes West along the ridge about 20 yards from me when I decide to make a few yelps to bring in the still motionless gobbler. After a few calls the gobbler starts my way but changes his mind and heads down the hill again. Just then the hen starts making cutting noises that they do when they are excited. This sometimes brings in the Toms so I again hoped that she would draw him in. But after a few minutes she ran down the hill and I could hear the old Longbeard gobbling off in the distance. He must have found another gal!
That was it for me. The rest of the morning was a bust. Although I?m disappointed that I didn?t bag that big gobbler I learned a few lessons about turkey hunting.
1. Set up on the side of the hill where the Tom is so that you can see him approaching the decoys.
2. Don?t start heating the peanut oil until you tagged your bird!!!
When the bird dipped down in a little gully Craig got his gun up and he was ready for him. Just as the bird reappeared a loud gobble sounded from above Craig?s position. He said the gobble scared him it was so loud and unexpected. It was a big Tom! He gobbled again and the other bird cowered down and stopped in his tracks. Craig then realized that the first bird was a Jake and the other bird was the big boy. It was strutting and showing the Jake who was boss.
Then the big Tom ran down the hill, past Craig?s decoys and about 40 yards away from him, and chased after the juvenile Tom. The Tom then walked off not returning to check out the decoys. Craig said that he felt that shot would have been too far for his liking and he thought that after the Tom ran the Jake off that he would come back to the decoys, but he didn?t.
Sunday was a bust for the both of us. We heard gobbling on every ridge but the one we both hunted. I did run into another hunter who said that he called in a Tom by using a fighting purr call and missed a 20 yard shot. Craig on the other hand told me that he set up on a logging road on a side of a hill at daybreak and sat and called off and on until 8:00. At that time two hens and a big Longbeard flew from their roost above him and soared to the top of the ridge. They must have seen or heard him set up and didn?t want to fly down!
It looks like there should be plenty of birds left for next weekend when we?ll give it another go!
Due to circumstances beyond our control (work ) :( Craig and I didn't make it down to the hills of Hocking Co. until Saturday night. Upon arriving about 8:30 we quickly set out to see if we could roost some birds. While crossing the creek that runs next to camp one of us stepped on a flat rock which caused a loud clanking noise that was immediately answered by a loud gobble from the above hillside. I pulled out my owl hooter call and let out a "who cooks for you". The Tom gobbled again. We were able to determine where the big boy was roosting and devised a game plan for the morning hunt.
The Tom was roosted about halfway up the hillside on the North slope of the ridge. The plan was for Craig to set up East of him while I was to take a position to the West. We figured that one of us would get a chance at him no matter which way he flew down in the morning. If he would go over the top of the ridge we both could move our setup on the other side and hope to intercept him in his search for love.
Sunday morning wake-up call was 4:30. At 5:15 we headed out of camp and up the hill to our predetermined positions. It was a quiet windless morning, the nearly full moon lit up the clear starlit sky. We were both into position at 5:45. Shortly the sounds of songbirds and mosquitoes filled the wooded hillside. Suddenly a loud gobble boomed some 80 yards from me. The Longbeard was on the same level as me and was perched in a tree that was on a point on the hillside. I knew that Craig was on the other side of him around the point. Ah, things were looking good.
I called to the old loverboy occasionally with some soft purrs and clucks. I knew that Craig would be doing the same. It was just a matter of which one of us would be more convincing. The Tom would gobble every now and then. I sat back against a ancient white oak tree and put my gun up on my knees. I was ready. I had a clear view of the hillside for about 40-50 yards in front of me. I would be able to see the big boy coming in plenty of time. I then flapped my hat on my leg to simulate a hen flying down from her roost, while at the same time I made a fly down cackle with my mouth call. I then let out a few yelps.
Minutes later I heard wings flapping and limbs breaking. He was flying down from his roost. This was the moment of truth. Which way was he going to go, towards Craig or me? Just then I caught a glimpse of him, he was flying at treetop level but not at me, nor Craig! He flew down across the holler to the other ridge #*%~*!!! Shortly I could hear gobbling on the far off hillside. What's that they say about the best-laid plan???
Next weekend will be our last chance.
This weekend was our last chance to bag the elusive wild turkey. We arrived at camp after dark and quickly set up the tent before the predicted thunderstorms arrived. We hit the sack shortly thereafter and set our alarm for a 4:30 wake-up call.
It rained during the night and it was over by the time we rolled out of bed. At 5:30 we headed up the hill on the south side of camp. When we reached the top of the ridge Craig went West and I went East. Our plan was to hang out on top of the ridge until we heard a gobble then move toward the Tom and set up on him.
Sometime after 6:00 a Tom gobbled in the same location as the one that I had called in earlier in the season, (see story on April 28). I decided this time that I would slip down the point at the end of the ridge and try to set up on him on a flat spot on the end of the point. After he gobbled I walked down the sloping point 10-20 yards or so then stopped to listen for him to gobble again so that I could get a fix on his location then I would move down the point again. I did this two or three times and when I was just about 30 yards or so to the flat spot where I wanted to set up I stopped to listen again. This time I waited and waited but I did not hear him gobble.
After a while I strained to peer in the direction where I thought he might be and sure enough there he was perched up in a tree not 50 yards from me. He had me! He was looking right at me and nervously pacing on his limb. I could see his beard swinging back at forth. It was still early morning but I could see him silhouetted in the dawning sky.
I stood there in the open for a good 15 minutes, he never did gobble again. I thought that maybe after a while that if I just stood there he would eventually forget about me and go about his business. I finally moved about two steps to put a tree between us and sat down. I did not make any calls at this time. Finally after about 10 more minutes I peeked around the tree to see if he was still there. He was gone!
I figured that he might have flown down towards the lower part of the hill so I went on down the point to a spot where it drops off and sat down against a tree and started cutting and yelping with my box call. A hen answered below me. She eventually circled around to my left and ended up behind me on top of the point. She would cutt and yelp and I would answer her with my cutts and yelps. This went on for five or ten minutes. She kept on getting louder and louder then so would I. It sounded like a bitch session between two gals on one of those Jerry Springer shows :) .
Finally she came down the hill and walked behind me a few yards and purred and cutt softly and walked off around the point. I hoped that all of this racket would pull in a Tom so I stayed there for about an hour but nothing showed up. That was about it for the day.
Craig did not have anything to report Saturday. Sunday was also a bust. We went up the other hill and did not hear a gobble at all on the ridge that we were on. But I thought I heard Saturday's gobbler sounding off across the holler. He knew that we can't hunt that ridge on Sunday!
Well, that's it for the 2001 spring turkey season. We had our chances. I hope that we learned from our experiences and maybe next year we will score. Thanks for listening. It's time to rig up the rods, I hear the smallmouth are hitting up north!
Steve
