When a famous NFL coach was questioned about his personal evaluation of how good his team was after a string of defeats, he responded with, “You are what your record says you are”. I guess by that measurement, I very well may be the worst turkey hunter on the planet.
Though I’ve had more success than most on big game; turkeys are a completely different matter. Don’t get me wrong, I do scratch an eastern gobbler down every decade or so with my bow whether I want to kill that many or not. I guess I just simply unravel at the seams in front of a gobbler. I do a good bit better with fall either sex Merriam turkeys out west, ….but where they aren’t hunted very much, you pretty much can hit a Merriam in the head with a flat bladed shovel. No disrespect for the Merriam, but they just aren’t the same bird as a magnificent Eastern on a spring morning … at least in my way of looking at things.
I’ve written about my past failures. They pretty much all border on edge of a self-proclaimed pity party. A couple of years ago, I went to hunt Rio’s in Kansas on a ‘sure bet’ hunt. Let’s just say it wasn’t. Came back home empty handed with $2,000 less cash……and the next week missed an old gobbler at my house with a beard as thick as a banana at 7 yards over the back! (ARRRGH). Last year my turkey season was for the ages. I called up and missed (or worse) more turkeys than anybody should ever see in one season. I was always happy to say that I had never wounded a bird with my bow; but after last year I couldn’t say that any more. It was so demoralizing and I questioned whether I should even keep on trying. Maybe my age was telling me to stop with this entire stickbow turkey nonsense.
But...never being one to give up, I made an arrow change to something that has always instilled a confidence in my shooting. I also bought a string tracker as my evaluation concluded a string tracker would have likely put a bird or two in the truck last year. I switched my broadheads to Simmons Treesharks. I kept hearing that you needed a broadhead soooo large…. that turkeys would split in two like a ripe watermelon when shot!! Frankly, I don’t think that really happens but compared to what I was using, they looked monstrous in size. They sure looked like they would work.
Well, this morning I got in at least 30 minutes before daylight and set out a DSD hen and posturing jake in front of a (previously) set up blind location. I must have been pretty quiet. At daylight, a gobbler blasted the morning stillness right over my head! When he flew down, he even knocked twigs on my blind top! He truly scared the snot out of me! I can’t recall ever being that close to a gobbler before at dawn. However, when he hit the ground, he just drummed a bit, before walking off. I heard another gobbler a good distance ways off blasting through the morning stillness. Though I couldn’t see any of them, both gobblers and hens kept working behind me and being very vocal. The hens were making a big fuss and the gobblers were gobbling like this was their last chance for the spring. Eventually, they moved at least a ¼ mile away; but the turkeys kept being vocal. I mimicked the hens hoping I could make one mad enough that they would come over to check out the new hen…and maybe bring a gobbler with them.
I had planned to sit until 10:30, perhaps even a little later as the woods were full of activity. It would be hard to leave as I was thinking at least one of the gobblers would eventually come back to check out the stubborn hen. Finally at 9:50 this morning, I heard something walking in the leaves, then a spit, and a nice 9.5” bearded bird ran up to my jake decoy and laid a quick flogging on him! I had set the jake at 4 yards and he was between me and the decoy…probably a grand distance of three yards! I don’t know about you, but I’m still pretty good at three yards even on a bad day! I aimed low as most my misses have always been high. This time I hit exactly where I was looking (low) and practically took one leg off as it entered the bird’s body. The white line off the tracker frantically spooled out as the turkey flipped and flopped out in front of the blind. I reached for a second arrow and calmly killed the bird in short order with a 10 yard shot. I sat there in the darkness of the blind in disbelief. I just watched the lifeless bird and shook for a few minutes while taking it all in. I can’t think of anything more grandeur on a fine spring morning in Mississippi.
While you might only be as good as your record says you are; however today, I much prefer to remember the line from the Mary Chapin Carpenters old country song “The Bug” that sang the line “sometimes you are the windshield, and sometimes you’re the bug.”
I guess for a change, I was the windshield.
Topic: Mississippi Stickbow Gobbler (Read 1478 times)
