- Details
- Category: Turkey
- Published: Sunday, 06 November 2016 20:56
- Written by Greg
Just in time for Thanksgiving
Once again we found ourselves holding fall turkey tags. But this year we decided to double-up our efforts by trying for pheasants too. Our plan was to hunt for pheasants first thing Saturday morning and then go for turkeys later that afternoon.
Our GSP pointing on a pheasant Flushing a nice rooster
Friday night we headed south. We hadn’t been stopped for more than five minutes when it started raining. It rained most of the night, but luckily we stayed warm and dry since our sleeping quarters for this trip were housed inside of our enclosed 16 ft. trailer.
At first light we were ready but it quickly became obvious that we had our work cut out for us as we saw a line of competition headed our way. At least ten hunters walked side-by-side down the relatively small patch of hunt-able land toward us. Fortunately we were already positioned in the middle of the field, so we had a decent tract of land to hunt opposite the bank of trudging sportsman. It didn’t take long until we had collected three roosters. If it weren’t for several missed opportunities, all three of us would have had our two bird limit. Now that the area had been thoroughly covered, we decided to go after turkeys.
It was early afternoon when we arrived at our turkey destination. We found a row of cottonwoods that lined a small creek and figured we’d set up on the edge of the trees in hopes of ambushing some unsuspecting critters. We ate lunch and waited. The first animals to walk out of the cover near our position were several deer, a good sign we hadn’t been detected.
Finishing up lunch, the wait continues It's working, here they come...
Not long after that a turkey popped out of the brush. Then there were two, three, eight, fifteen…until finally a total of thirty turkeys were feeding 150 yards away. Anxiously we waited to see where they would go.
At last the mass started moving toward us, although slightly to the west. Quickly we repositioned ourselves by hunkering down below a small log covered dirt bank and scooting 35 yards to our right. The flock advanced further, now less than 100 yards separated us, the anticipation was palpable. Suddenly we were panic-stricken as the lead hen turned and headed back toward our previous ambush spot. Desperately we repositioned, but this time we could only move a few feet. We waited, hoping the flock would pass within shooting range. At last the time had come, it was now or never. With our shotguns resting upon the bank we each picked out a turkey in succession…the countdown ensued, three, two, one, boom!
