megalomaniac
Well-Known Member
One of the best hunts I've ever had...
Arrived back to TN at midnight last night with my son. Got up at 0430, but Ethan was too exhausted to hunt when I woke him, so I headed out solo for the first time in a couple weeks. Went to a property I hadn't hunted since my last solo hunt 2 weeks and got to my listening spot at 0515 with a thermos of coffee. After a few sips on the dark, a hen started cutting on the roost 1000y away, followed by a gobble... never had experienced that before that early. Jumped back in the truck and moved 600y closer to listen again. After a few minutes, an owl hooted, the hen cackled, and a couple birds gobbled on the wooded hill not too far off my property.
I crossed my open field headed to a block of woods on my land bordering the hill off the property the toms were on in the dark, then posted up 30y south of the property line, and 30 y inside my woods to the east of my field. Still plenty dark, no way I would get picked off. Another owl hooted again, the hen went nuts 150y away up the timbered hill, and the toms gobbled 250y away at the top of the hill.
I've never experienced a hen this vocal on the roost, so I decided to focus just on her and ignore the gobblers. As pre-dawn light began to break, she intensified her roost cackling, and I tried to mimic it, with a couple extra cutts over the top of her each time... except i could never best her... after a few minutes, I thought to myself, 'screw killing a tom, I just want to mess with her'. And we dueled for 15 minutes screaming at each other nonstop as loud as we could until my hands cramped up from working the pot call, but I could never best her. And these weren't yelps... probably only 10% of her yapping was yelping... the rest was cackling and cutting. A few more timid hens around her made some 2 and 3 note soft yelps on occasion during our hellraising, what I would consider normal hen talk on the roost. And of course the toms were going berserk on the roost 250y away with all the drama.
Well before flydown, the toms hit the ground and continued to gobble just below their roost tree. The bipolar hen continued to verbally assault me, and I tried to put her in her place, but she would have none of it.
Then it happened... movement in the woods above me... a hen flying off the hill, crossing the property line, and landing in my field 100y away... holy crap, I thought... I might have a chance. And another, and another hen did the same thing pitching onto my property.
Hadn't heard from the mentally unstable hen in a bit, but the toms were gobbling closer. I checked her with a couple yelps, and she crushed me with her cackling and cutting. I cutt back to her, and she pitched out of her tree 150y away and landed in a tree 80y away on the property line at the edge of the field looking for me raising holy hell.... and the toms kept coming.
Once they got down on the property line under her at 80y I could see them. I pleaded to them, they gobbled, but stayed under her. She dropped right down to them, and completely shut up and started feeding. I yelped at her, she ignored it. I cutted to her, she ignored it, I cackled to her, she ignored it... all the while the toms choking on their gobbles beside her.
She crosses over the line feeding and totally ignoring me (which hurt my feelings a little bit after all our prior icebreaking conversations we already had this morning) as the toms followed her. Then she turns and starts feeding dead away from me....
Now that they are on my property, part of me thought to shut the hell up, let them work away a bit, then sneak in and smoke one of them...It was a fun hunt, one of the best I've ever had. One I'll remember forever.
But the little devil inside took over... since these birds have been hammered with calls, let's just go over the top just for kicks and giggles, who cares if I actually kill one... One mouth call cutting and jake yelping, another pot call throwing high pitched fighting purrs and whines. Toms went NUTS. Double my effort, toms double their gobble intensity. TRIPLE my efforts, and the looker tom just broke and left the hen headed right for me. Then the strutter broke as well.
Holy $HIT they are dead if I want to kill them, I can't believe this morning. Do I use my last tag today when I have more days to hunt in TN? Screw it, was too good a hunt not to. Shoot the strutter or the looker? Couldn't decide, so I figured I'd shoot the first one that gives me a decent shot inside 35y.
Once they hit my 35y mark, I raised my gun (was low due to all the calling prior), and the looker stuck his head up and clucked once... 'Tag you're it' I thought, and killed him. One of the best hunts I've ever had. Time of death... 0635.
And icing on the cake. The looker was a DINOSAUR! Super thick beard, one of the thickest paintbrushes I've ever killed. 10.25in.
And daggers for spurs. 1 9/16 in on both sides. Only 19.1 lbs.... but I thought long and hard about making him my first bird I've ever mounted....
But then I decided I wanted to eat MS pot roast tonight instead. So his legs and thighs (with the peppercino peppers, ranch dressing, brown gravy, potatoes, and carrots) are almost done.
I would NOT advocate following what I did this morning to kill a bird if you really wanted to kill one... but I didn't care if I killed one or not, so I went over the top on a hen that went even farther over the top than me. Sure was fun, and a hunt I'll be telling grandkids about one day!
(Disclaimer- There were no Micheal Waddell decoys or Phillip Culpepper reaping techniques used this morning
, just one 2 Reed batwing mouth call and one aluminum pot call... and one certifiable real hen!)
Arrived back to TN at midnight last night with my son. Got up at 0430, but Ethan was too exhausted to hunt when I woke him, so I headed out solo for the first time in a couple weeks. Went to a property I hadn't hunted since my last solo hunt 2 weeks and got to my listening spot at 0515 with a thermos of coffee. After a few sips on the dark, a hen started cutting on the roost 1000y away, followed by a gobble... never had experienced that before that early. Jumped back in the truck and moved 600y closer to listen again. After a few minutes, an owl hooted, the hen cackled, and a couple birds gobbled on the wooded hill not too far off my property.
I crossed my open field headed to a block of woods on my land bordering the hill off the property the toms were on in the dark, then posted up 30y south of the property line, and 30 y inside my woods to the east of my field. Still plenty dark, no way I would get picked off. Another owl hooted again, the hen went nuts 150y away up the timbered hill, and the toms gobbled 250y away at the top of the hill.
I've never experienced a hen this vocal on the roost, so I decided to focus just on her and ignore the gobblers. As pre-dawn light began to break, she intensified her roost cackling, and I tried to mimic it, with a couple extra cutts over the top of her each time... except i could never best her... after a few minutes, I thought to myself, 'screw killing a tom, I just want to mess with her'. And we dueled for 15 minutes screaming at each other nonstop as loud as we could until my hands cramped up from working the pot call, but I could never best her. And these weren't yelps... probably only 10% of her yapping was yelping... the rest was cackling and cutting. A few more timid hens around her made some 2 and 3 note soft yelps on occasion during our hellraising, what I would consider normal hen talk on the roost. And of course the toms were going berserk on the roost 250y away with all the drama.
Well before flydown, the toms hit the ground and continued to gobble just below their roost tree. The bipolar hen continued to verbally assault me, and I tried to put her in her place, but she would have none of it.
Then it happened... movement in the woods above me... a hen flying off the hill, crossing the property line, and landing in my field 100y away... holy crap, I thought... I might have a chance. And another, and another hen did the same thing pitching onto my property.
Hadn't heard from the mentally unstable hen in a bit, but the toms were gobbling closer. I checked her with a couple yelps, and she crushed me with her cackling and cutting. I cutt back to her, and she pitched out of her tree 150y away and landed in a tree 80y away on the property line at the edge of the field looking for me raising holy hell.... and the toms kept coming.
Once they got down on the property line under her at 80y I could see them. I pleaded to them, they gobbled, but stayed under her. She dropped right down to them, and completely shut up and started feeding. I yelped at her, she ignored it. I cutted to her, she ignored it, I cackled to her, she ignored it... all the while the toms choking on their gobbles beside her.
She crosses over the line feeding and totally ignoring me (which hurt my feelings a little bit after all our prior icebreaking conversations we already had this morning) as the toms followed her. Then she turns and starts feeding dead away from me....
Now that they are on my property, part of me thought to shut the hell up, let them work away a bit, then sneak in and smoke one of them...It was a fun hunt, one of the best I've ever had. One I'll remember forever.
But the little devil inside took over... since these birds have been hammered with calls, let's just go over the top just for kicks and giggles, who cares if I actually kill one... One mouth call cutting and jake yelping, another pot call throwing high pitched fighting purrs and whines. Toms went NUTS. Double my effort, toms double their gobble intensity. TRIPLE my efforts, and the looker tom just broke and left the hen headed right for me. Then the strutter broke as well.
Holy $HIT they are dead if I want to kill them, I can't believe this morning. Do I use my last tag today when I have more days to hunt in TN? Screw it, was too good a hunt not to. Shoot the strutter or the looker? Couldn't decide, so I figured I'd shoot the first one that gives me a decent shot inside 35y.
Once they hit my 35y mark, I raised my gun (was low due to all the calling prior), and the looker stuck his head up and clucked once... 'Tag you're it' I thought, and killed him. One of the best hunts I've ever had. Time of death... 0635.
And icing on the cake. The looker was a DINOSAUR! Super thick beard, one of the thickest paintbrushes I've ever killed. 10.25in.
And daggers for spurs. 1 9/16 in on both sides. Only 19.1 lbs.... but I thought long and hard about making him my first bird I've ever mounted....
But then I decided I wanted to eat MS pot roast tonight instead. So his legs and thighs (with the peppercino peppers, ranch dressing, brown gravy, potatoes, and carrots) are almost done.
I would NOT advocate following what I did this morning to kill a bird if you really wanted to kill one... but I didn't care if I killed one or not, so I went over the top on a hen that went even farther over the top than me. Sure was fun, and a hunt I'll be telling grandkids about one day!
(Disclaimer- There were no Micheal Waddell decoys or Phillip Culpepper reaping techniques used this morning
, just one 2 Reed batwing mouth call and one aluminum pot call... and one certifiable real hen!)
