Turkey Tracks

Turkey Fever

Last Sunday evening, Mark Pledger bagged his first turkey and now sets his eyes on some long-beards we are patterning on the property.  After killing this turkey, we saw and heard several hens and two toms roost in the area we are hunting.  We are headed back to the woods on Saturday morning.  Congratulations to Mark for getting "all tore up" for chasing thunder-chickens!

Spring Season (for turkey hunters)

 
Mason and I headed to the turkey woods last Saturday.  The Alabama Department of Natural Resources allows youth hunters a head start to the season which officially began on March 15.  We had high expectations as we drove to Ballplay, Alabama.

We heard not a peep during the flydown moments of the morning.  Our decoys looked pretty realistic in the morning mist and the sounds of spring were in full swing with every kind of bird except the one bird we were looking for. 

About 8:30 we walked to a new area hoping to hear a gobbler "sound off".  Our path was blocked due to excessive rains that caused flooding on this piece of property.  I joked, "With our luck we will hear a Tom on the other side and we can't get to him." 

Mason and I, along with our hunting partner Mark, turned to look elsewhere when I stopped after hearing a "gaaarroooble" which neither of them heard.  (I do have super-human hearing.)  Momentarily, I thought I was losing my mind and hearing things when finally we all heard the hair-raising sound of a tom on the search of love.  I called to him several times and each time he answered with great interest.

Knowing it was highly unlikely that he would take flight and cross the water, we reluctantly decided to back off and set up our decoys in a nearby field and see if by some miracle the bird would come looking.  Mason was well hidden as I called and called.  I'll bet the bird gobbled fifteen times before incredibly he took flight and landed on our side of the water.  He sounded like a crashing helicopter and I whispered, "He's coming Mason, get ready."

In a matter of minutes we saw his white head peeping up and looking down at our setup.  I smiled and said to myself, "Mason is going to kill this bird."  The next fifteen minutes were both exciting and frustrating.  He would not come one step beyond 100 yards.  We could see him, he could see the decoys, but something was not right.  He circled, strutting and looking, and moved to our right for about 150 yards.  Before he disappeared, I cut loosed with some more yelps but he continued on his leary way.  He wanted to join the decoys, but instead he stayed safely out of danger. 

In my mind I knew exactly what was happening.  I have three decoys:two hens and a jake.  I have killed many turkeys with this setup but that day I modified my strategy by adding a "Killer B" tom decoy by Primos.  The minute our "would-be" trophy laid eyes on him, he wanted nothing to do with any of us.  That's why he walked all the way around, cautiously evaluating the size of my decoy.  I was sick. 

I encouraged Mason in his patience and made a turkey-hunting note to myself.  "Don't set up a dominate decoy this early in the season."  "Or better yet, throw the thing in the garbage."  We are headed back to try to find this bird again on Saturday. 

"Turkey hunting is more about the hunt than killing turkeys.  Turkey hunting is more about my sons than hunting." 

"Thank you God for the time I spent with Mason on Saturday.  Thank you for letting us enjoy your creation and listening to the sounds of that gobbler.  If I doesn't matter to you, God, give us another opportunity to go again and maybe even kill a tom.  Either way I still love you."  Amen

Birthday Buck

My oldest son Matthew turned 14 last Saturday.  I can remember being 14 and in the eighth grade.  Eight grade was one of the worst school years I ever had.  The public school system was trying to convince the public that in just a few years all of the world's unit and measures, including the U.S., would convert to the metric system.  I spent the whole year listening to Mrs. Parish talk about centimeters, millimeters, and kilograms.  Ugh. 

Anyway, Matthew had several options for how he wanted to celebrate his birthday but chose to go hunting with his Dad (me)!  It was raining that morning and we woke up late.  We went on to the woods and spent a couple of hours scouting out a place to hunt that evening.  We had fun, got wet, and returned home for lunch.

Matthew and I have always made it a habit to pray before we step into the deer woods. We are always careful not to sound like we are telling God what to do, but we sometimes ask the Lord to let us see a deer and maybe even kill one.  Since it was his birthday, I thought I would ask God specifically and respectfully to allow Matthew to "kill a deer with antlers". 

We treked to the place we figured would be a good spot.  We had hunted there before and seen deer (or deers, as I like to say).  I made sure Matthew was safe in his stand and went on up the hill about 200 yards.  About thirty minutes later, after I had settled in my tree, I heard the startling boom of his .308.  It scared me to death and I prayed that he had in fact shot a deer. 

Long story short, Matthew killed a nice six point buck.  We celebrated in the woods together and thanked God for His concern for us even in something as trivial as hunting.  I hope Matthew sees that God is a close, personal friend who delights in getting our attention with His unmistakeable answers to prayer.  Don't tell God what to do, but He doesn't mind you asking. 

A Silent Turkey Season

Where are all the turkeys?  I know, you all see them as you drive along.  Huge toms...flocks of hens...sounds of thunderous gobbles! 

This has been the hardest season for me since I started pursuing the wild turkey about six years ago.  I've only had one bird gobble and the rest of my mornings have been silent.  Why?  I could write pages on why but I've only got 8 days to find some birds who might be interested in getting shot.

I know I'll be a better man after turkey season.  That is, if I prove successful in bagging a bird.  Otherwise, I may come across as one privately conflicted over some deep crisis within.  Or my emotional fervor may be unleashed on some unsuspecting bystander at the gas pump. 

I took my boys to trade day last Saturday and saw the most hidious sight I have ever seen.  (No, not the lady who bought her summer wear at "Too small for you".)  I saw a turkey who had no tail feathers!  They were all gone!  He tried to strut but he only came across as grotesquely humiliated.  The ironic thing was that he was gobbling his head off.  There you go.  That's about the summary of my turkey season.  Standing next to a woman who obviously had no friends who would be honest about her wardrobe selections, my hunting needs were being exploited by a fanless bird who could only get the "gobb" out of the "gobble". 

I feel better after writing this down.  However, if any of you could take me to any of those birds you're seeing as you drive along the countryside, I would really appreciate it.  Otherwise, I might have to return to Collinsville and purchase a tail-less turkey.   

UFO?

Last Friday morning, around 5:45 am, Matthew and I were in the turkey woods listening for the slightest hint of a gobble. While waiting, Matthew pointed to a "star" in the sky that appeared to be moving our way.  I tried to remain focused on the turkeys when the glowing orb caught my attention.  We both were amazed at this silent craft "sliding" its way across the predawn sky.  We both examined the object through our 10x binoculars and had no explanation as to what it was.  No flashing lights, no sound, nothing but speed and brilliance.  I joked to him, "We will never speak of this to anyone." 

We had a turkey gobbling pretty good but he lost interest in us around 8:00.  As we traveled home we couldn't help but talk about extraterrestrial life.  We saw something but could not explain it.  Where do you go to get thing kind of information.  Surely we weren't the kind of folks that report such a sighting to one of those crazy u.f.o. websites....surely we were!  I felt stupid as I typed in my eyewitness account.  Alongside of reported alien abductions, swamp gas spooks, and a profile of Bigfoot's dietary profile is now two turkey hunters account of their phenominological experience.

I described our encounter to a friend to said he has seen a similar object weeks earlier.  He conjectured that what I had seen was the International Space Station in orbit around the earth.  He gave me a website and sure enough the tracking of the station traveled across our exact location at the exact time we saw our craft.  I even logged onto YouTube to see videos that people had taken of the ISS.  That was it.  Exactly like we saw it.

In life you'll have lots of things that you see and experience but cannot explain.  You can observe all the details around a topic and still be confused as to what things mean.  Most of the time we need more information that is both true and accurate.  Matthew and I didn't know what we were seeing because we didn't have enough information.  In Jer 33:3, God tells the prophet to "Call to me and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know."  Whatever you percieve in life, why not ask God for more information so that you can see things as they really are.  Most of the time, in order for us to respond correctly, we need to know something we don't already know.

Nanoo, nanoo.

Turk-Zilla Really a Family Pet

Turns out the record breaking turkey killed last season actually wandered away from the pen where Cleburne Co. native Homer Buggin had raised him from an egg.  "Tommie was the most gentle giant in the world.  He deserved better than to be gunned down in the prime of his life!", said Buggin. 

The turkey was killed only 50 feet from Buggin's farm.  His property adjoins the 500 acre hunting preserve where Reaves and his son were hunting.  While no game laws were broken, Authorities questioned the party as to why the red bow around "Tommie's" neck didn't raise suspicions. 

The Reaves family was unavailable for comment pending a decision on what to do with the turkey's remains.  A close family friend commented that, "It would be hard to eat a pet that wasn't your own." 

In 2007, over 50 family pets in Cleburne Country were mistaken for trophy game animals including a large goat, a tortoise, a dog with a white tail, and a gold fish mistaken for a migrating bass. 

Turk-zilla

ALABAMA FATHER AND SON DISCOVER GIANT TURKEY

Cleburne Co.      Spring turkey season will never be the same for Eric and Matthew Reaves.  The father and son were counting their blessings after a monster turkey (as pictured) snuck up behind them while they were posing for a picture after a day of hunting.  "I heard something behind me but didn't think much about it.  Then the guy taking our picture pointed behind us but couldn't say anything."  Reaves went on to describe a horrifying battle between man and bird.  "I thought it was going to peck out my brains." said the 12 year old Matthew. 

It took 42 shots with a custom made .80 guage elephant gun that Matthew often carried with him on walks in the woods to bring the bird down.  "Boy, that turkey tasted good.  We ate every part of it...feathers and all." 

Officials with the State Wildlife Dept. were unavailable for comment.  A retired gentleman was asked what he thought, "It would have to be a world record tom.  Monster Tom, Turk-zilla.  But it sure tasted better than any record book.  We hunt for meat; not fame." 

When asked if the photo had been tampered with, Reaves replied, "Do what?"  According to the photo, the bird stood 6'0" at the shoulder and weighed nearly 400 lbs.

The Reaves duo have appeared on Good Morning America, as well as the Tonight show. 

Fish Slap

Matthew and I fished in my brother's pond today despite cool temperatures and a blustery wind.  Matthew can catch fish out of a mud puddle and sure enough he was catching 1 - 2 pound large-mouths with a big grin on his face.  I, however, despite using the same lure, following him to the same spots, and trying everyway I could to cheat, caught nothing.

The "kid" that I taught to fish was not only catching fish but he was taunting his "old man".  (I always hated the term "old man" for a father until I started feeling like one. Also, Arab pollen must be different from Southside pollen because I am still having a sneezing fit tonight.  In addition, I don't mind some taunting, we do that sometimes, but I think because I was sneezing it wasn't so funny.) 

So Matt comes up right beside me, casts his line right beside mine a pulls out a nice fish.  No kidding, right beside me!  I smiled and bragged on his fish as I asked him if I could hold it.  "Sure, since you can't catch one." he added.  I admired the fish exactly one second before I slapped the slimy creature across his mouth.  (It was awesome.  Matthew's mouth was wide open after letting out a series of "Ha, ha's.  We had "tongue to fin" contact! I don't think Matthew cares for sushi.)

After gagging a fitting amount of time we laughed.  He has a story to tell you about the time his dad slapped him in the mouth with a fish.  You know, I sure would like to have a fish handy when a few other people I know start giving me a hard time.  Maybe if their dad had slapped them with a fish their lives would be more well adjusted. 

So take a kid fishing, and if the opportunity presents itself, slap away!

(Disclaimer:  I am not responsible for injury or liable for damages if you slap your kid with a fish.  This was just a funny story.  Put the fish down and just walk away, "old man".)

Sneaky Bird

Wow, what a weekend.  My son and I hit the woods Friday morning and found ourselves in the middle of turkey central.  We had 3 toms yelling their lungs out and we made our way along a hollow and setup about 100 yards from a pair of deuling gobblers.  The slightest touch on my slate call sent them cutting one another off and raising the hair on our necks.  (Matt and I try to manage the hair on our necks but sometimes it can get out of hand.)

After about 45 minutes of the birds "coming and going, close then far",  one of the toms headed our direction.  Matthew was in position and I was already thanking the Lord for the small blessings of life.  I heard a twig snap and realized the sly bird had circled around to the side in an attempt to sneak up on the object of his interest.  Matthew responded as any adrenaline pumped hunter would and turned quickly to try and shoot him.  As he did his gun barrel moved a small sapling and waved it like a flag in a marching band.  Several putts later we lamented our lack of attention to small details.  Matthew learned that what is beside you may hinder your shot more than what's in front of you.  I think I'll buy him some limb clippers for Easter. 

Even though Matthew didn't kill his first turkey, we still had an awesome morning.  To get that close was still a victory for the maturing hunter and we have plenty of stories to tell as to what should have happened.

Later we did "shock gobble" another bird but he would not turn around and we couldn't cut him off.  We are turkey crazy.

Technical Turkey Story

I wanted to give some of you hunting people a more technical story about my opening day bird.  If you don't hunt, this will probably bore you.

Standing on the edge of a green field at 6:00a I could see dawn breaking.  By 6:13 I had birds on the ground and three gobblers sounding off at the early crows.  I really was surprised they had flown down without me hearing them but as I was putting out my decoys they rattled the woods with consecutive roars.  I froze.  They were less than 75 yards away in a hardwood hollow screened off by a thicket of pines.  I couldn't go anywhere so I quietly set up a ground blind thinking that these three amigos would sooner or later check out the field, see the attractive decoys, and volunteer to make my day. 

I sat motionless, holding my shotgun in shooting position on my knees. It was about 20 minutes when I decided that these guys were more interested in each other than the sound of a hen calling to them.  I relaxed a bit and listened to them fighting and purrrring at one another for the next hour.  I know they gobbled over 100 times.  They gobbled at every sound including the slightest touch on my handmade aluminum call.  (I made it out of a piece of aluminum lying around in my shop.  It's the best sounding call I have.) 

At about 8:30, a gobbler appeared on the other end of the field.  I noticed he was acting strangely and he was looking at my decoys with apprehension.  He was too nervous.  I softly yelped and immediately he turned and left.  I think he must have just had his tail feathers kicked and wanted no part of anymore confrontation.  Not even from a jake decoy. 

I was supposed to reconvene with my hunting partner at 10:00a.  So at 9:45, I had heard all the gobbling I could stand and went against conventional hunting wisdom by trying to "run down" a gobbler on the move.  One by one the gobblers had moved down the hollow away from my position.  I took a parallel route listening and guaging there whereabouts.  Finally I was trailing a single bird who continued to respond to my yelps even though I was getting uncomfortably close.  The hollow I was in was extremely open and I just knew he was going to see me.  I could see exactly where he had walked, scratching and kickin up leaves. 

At 10:00a, it started to rain.  I made the decision to take the high ground instead of following the creek bed behind him.  As I did I was able to cut him off and came within 50 yards.  I know he heard me crunching leaves, but because of the rain, and because I continued to softly yelp, he stopped! 

He was nervous and began to putt.  I thought it was over.  I thought he saw me.  At this point I still had not made visual contact.  It was like he was right there but I could not see him.  I could hear him and was straining to locate him. (3 minutes of putting.)  I crawled down the hillside to discover a huge drop off.  I crawled to about 10 feet of the edge and proped up.  I still couldn't see him but he was continuously putting.  Less than 30 seconds later he walked out from the blindspot under the embankment.  Three seconds later....bam.  He didn't move a muscle until I walked around the 20 ft. drop and tried to pick him up.  Then his involuntary wrestling moves kicked in. 

I was thrilled, and I learned a lot about turkey strategy.  It's all about getting close and being within the options of where the turkey wants to go.  If that embankment had not been there, he would have spotted me 100 yards earlier. 

He wasn't the largest turkey I have ever killed. (I killed one 2 years ago with an 11 1/2 inch beard.)  He had an 8 in. chest feather.  Walking back to the truck I was glad I took a chance instead of sitting in my blind wishing the birds would come back.  Sometimes you gotta move and do the thinking as you go.  Try to take the high ground if possible and use your terrain to get you close. 

If you read all of this posting, you're as sick about turkey hunting as I am.

ER