Alright so here goes. If any of you frequent the Politics forums than you may be familiar with the internet persona known as Cameron's rather lengthy posts. Not known for brevity, I hope this thread doesn't disappoint. You might want to grab a coffee or tea.
Today was my second hunting day of the season. First day was a total bust. Two and a half hours on the post with not a single sign of bird. Today I was determined to stick it out at long as it takes, but with low wind, clearish sky and no rain in the forecast it was looking to be as good a day as you can ask for. But mother nature it would seem was going to test me in a completely unanticipated way.
Got into position at 4:30 AM. My setup is on the NW corner of a grass field, 200m east/west by 150 N/S. To the West and South is old growth hardwood. North and East is thousands of acres of farmland. At both the NW and NE corners is a small grove of maples. I am in the NW grove, leaned up against a maple on the edge of the grove, slightly higher than the level of the field, full camo, no blind. My lone hen decoy is about 7 yards away, on a little bit of a high feature easily visible to all the surrounding fields. I am facing South East, expecting most of the traffic to come in off the fields, or maybe from the larger wood to the south.
Using the last day as a benchmark I didn't expect to hear anything at least until sunrise, and figured I'd get a good hour nap which would do well for ensuring I didn't start my day off wrong by calling too much. I generally consider myself to be a terrible caller. See: less is more. I closed my eyes and almost instantly I heard my first locator call. Sounded several hundred meters to the West. Which makes sense cause I figured all of the birds to roost deep in the woods. I quickly got up on the pot call and let out some yelps, which was quickly answered. Knowing that I'd been found, I put the call down, thinking I'd have 30 minutes minimum before he got here, and there was no more good to be accomplished with the call. Sporadic yelps occupied the next twenty minutes and sounded like they were SW and NW, essentially behind me.
About 20 minutes before legal hunting time I hear my first gobble. And its a doozy. Close. Loud. And quickly followed by three others. Over the next 15 minutes there is a constant roar of gobbling and I figured at least 6 different males. They sounded to be about 200m away on the NE Maple grove, but spotting hard with my binos I couldn't see any birds... until I looked up. I'd never actually spotted a turkey in the roost before, unless it was because I spooked him. I also figured the birds were always down out of the roost before it got bright enough to see, but I guess even Wild Turkey like to sleep in on Sunday. I started scanning the trees and eventually counted 9 birds. I had actually for the first time, successfully guessed where the birds were and set up in range of the roost...
Given that there were already other birds sounding off West of me, and that my decoy was in full view of the birds in the trees, I saw no need to do any more calling. I was completely surrounded on at least three sides with almost a dozen birds. Now I'm just hoping the birds would fly down into the field I was on. 5 minutes before legal hunting time, another gobble, but this time straight South of me. 79 Yards south to be precise. I didn't see him, until again, I scanned the tree. And there he was, another bird in the roost, alone. Off to a good start so far. I was pumped.
I was trying to imagine the possible ways this could all play out, when the first bird in the big flock flew down, and just my luck, he landed in the field way North. And then one by one his whole posse flew down, all together on the far field, heading East. Damn. I was getting ready with the pot to see if I could call them all back this way, when the loan male from the South flew down and landed about 50m from my decoy. There I am in full sight with my call in my hand and shot gun on the ground. Right away he starts tracking straight North for my hen. As he approaches he ducks his head down in some low ground just long enough for me to drop the call and grab the gun, A remmy 870 with a DIY camo paint job courtesy of tremclad. I can see now that he's actually a smaller Jake. Beard sticking maybe 3 inches out from the chest. My mind immediately starts recalling previous posts from this thread, about experienced hunters being willing to wait for their trophy bird, knowing there are probably a few big trophy birds over in that flock. But then on the other hand, not passing up on the first day (second) what you would be happy with on the last. Decision made. He is mine.
He almost makes it to my corner of the field, about 25m away when he starts tacking East. Looks like he could care less about my silent hen and was heading to catch up to the flock. Still not sure if he was going to change his mind for a pit stop to service my hen or not, he slowed just enough and popped his head up for one last look just enough for the 30 m now or never shot. Baam. Drops like a stone. Nice clean easy hit, or so I thought...
I thank the creator for the gift of meat, wait a few minutes in silence and start packing my gear. I get over to the decoy to start packing up and notice that unlike my last few kills where the bird flapped a bit and promptly expired, this bird was just sitting there in a position like a duck on the water. Just sitting on the ground, head wound in tight to the body, barely looking around, silent, vigilant. Never seen a turkey do that before. I stood there puzzled out in the open and watched another minute trying to figure out what's up with him. He was obviously bleeding from the head. Odd ruffle of a feather, otherwise sitting pretty tight and still. At this point I can't decide if this is a wait and let him bleed out moment, or give him the bonus pop to put him out of his misery. He clearly wasn't in his death flails, but was clearly wounded. With his neck in tight to the body he wasn't giving me much of a shot. Last thing I wanted was this guy running or flying east to that other flock onto the neighbors property where I can't follow, but I didn't want to take a second shot at 25 meters and risk destroying meat either.
I give him 5 more minutes. No change. Screw it. Gun up at the threat ready, I start walking closer, not fully knowing what to expect. I go in slowly, not to spook him. 25m no change. Frozen still. 20m nothing. Did this guy die in this position with his head up? 15m he looks over at me, and pulls his head in tighter. Just Great. I pause a moment, and take up a bead on the top of his head. Just a few more steps...10m and this mother clucker jumps straight up and comes right at me like he wants a rematch. I don't remember ever saying "come at me bro"... Surprised, I start walking backwards quickly to keep space while maintaining a good point of aim but this guy is charging right at me at a medium pace and closing the distance with a determined look in his blood shot (literally) eyeball. 8 m with his head down in a straight line trot the only headshot I have is right dead centre in front of the body.
7 m The following thoughts start flashing through my mind in quick succession like an EDM music video: Is this guys skull made of unobtanium? Is he high? Can adrenaline account for this? 6m How do you take a headshot and think you are going to win a fight against thunder bolting tree man? Does he know something I don't? Can this turkey even seriously hurt me? 5m Do I want to find out? Are the claws he is fixing to attack me with made of adamantium? If I shoot, this bird is getting destroyed... I hope...
Not relishing the thought of being chirped by my friends for needing to shoot a Wild Turkey in self defense I couldn't think of any other option. Kicking him in the face was fast becoming a reality and I had zero confidence my Lowa Tacticals would succeed where an oz and a half of #4 shot did not. Just as I had reconciled myself to devastating this bird in order to avoid a hand to hand combat fight with a wounded turkey and started taking up the slack on the trigger, he starts tracking South, to my right, in what seemed like an attempt to flank me. Unbelievable. The cheek (beak?) on this guy... In any event, in doing so he gives me a clean head shot. Baam. Nothing. Almost nothing, he flinched, and then turned 180 degrees to start flanking to my left. I'm stunned. I rack quickly rack the action with what I know if my last shot, and struggle to know what to do next. How can this guy take two massive head shots and be on his feet? My mind is working overtime. I shoot a lot. Like a lot a lot. All of the action sports. 3 gun. I am absolutely gutted that this bird is getting wounded worse and not put down. Is he simply invincible, or do I just suck? Now to be fair both the target and I were moving laterally in opposing directions, and with an extra full choke at 5 meters it isn't hard to miss. I conclude that I must have failed to score a good hit with the second shot. Moving to my left now he gets maybe 15 m away when again he turns to try and get behind me, which gives me another good look at his blood soaked head, and I fire my 3rd shot, leaving the gun empty. He drops like a stone. Sigh. Thank Fvck. Not one to waste a second, I immediately start digging into the ammo pocket for another round to load...
AND then this fvcker gets right back up again, turns tail, and starts running East. Fast at first but then slowing down, almost dragging his head in front of him. Feeling like the biggest idiot at this point I want to chase him down and strangle him just to be sure. I look yonder to the next field to see the gaggle 250m out, figuring he must be heading for the safety of what is easily 25 birds with at least 10 males who only after the third shot decided it was time to make tracks. Feeling like this one bird is making a fool of me I had no interest in taking on the pack. Didn't bring that much ammo anyways. By the time I've reloaded two more shells, (thinking if I can't take him in five no matter what he wins the day) I see that my bird has made it about another 20 m tops before dropping back down to the ground. He is flailing a bit and losing steam fast. I take a knee and decide to wait. Callously I decide if he gets up again he taking two rds centre mass. After 5 minutes with no movement I can see he is down for the count. I go back to finish packing up, pick up my trail of shells, and then head over to the bird to check the damage. Give him a barrel poke and he is definitely deader than a door post. His head looks like ground meat. Just destroyed. Beak shattered. Head jellied from the top down to the caruncles. Far more than any other single shot I've seen on a Turkey. His wing is broken and he has blood soaked feathers all over his body.
Certain that the carcass is ruined, my heart sinks again and I completely forget to take any pictures, not that I'd of been proud of them anyways. I get him strung up and naked and asides from the broken wing, he is 100% clean of pellets below the neck. Asides from the head and broken Ulna, which looked like a complete spiral fracture and not at all consistent with a pellet strike, no other sign of trauma anywhere. I'm still in doubt as to whether two shots could account for all the trauma to the head, but can't fathom how he could take 3, let alone 2 headshots at under 30m and still be able to run with a purpose. Also can't account for how the wing got broken. Maybe the wad? Anyone ever see a Turkey break one of their own bones just by flailing around?
I've always known that these birds can be vicious, and I've seen them lay a beating on decoys, but he was in no way cornered and had a lot of open field for escape. For him to just get up and charge me like that, especially having waited for me to close the distance, man the audacity... and from a 1 year old no less. Beard was 5" and spur was not even 3/4". Going to be thinking about this one for a very long time. After reading the previous post of a far more experienced hunter, I don't know if I can say with any certainty whether or not going down after just a few minutes to finish him was the right thing. On the one hand, I had all day to wait if need be. On the second hand, he was only 125 yards to a field where I can't follow and didn't like the idea of a wounded bird getting away, and waiting him out might just have allowed him time to gather his strength to flee.
I stopped into the range on the way home and re-patterned the gun, just to the rule that out. Sights were still rock solid tight, nothing moved, patterned exactly at 10 and 25 m consistent with previous tests. Fired a shot at 5m just to see how much difference there was between 10m and it was less than I expected, but still pretty much the same. Of course the door is still open that I just straight up missed that second shot, which given the circumstances I can almost forgive myself for.
Lessons already learned:
1) Always load the gun to maximum permitted capacity.
2) The hunting pack with conveniently located ammo pouch on the waist strap was money well spent.
3) All the time on the range can not account for the need in the heat of the moment to shut your mind up and make the damn shot.
4) These birds are not as stupid as they look.
My father always told me that good hunters don't need to be good marksman, because you should be able to get the animal to come in for an easy shot, rather than being able to make a risky one. I can hear my father admonishing me for taking the shot while he was leaving in the first place, and instead should have tried to coax him in closer for a better shot. While true, 30 m isn't really a bad shot either. On the other hand a wise shooting coach once told me that the standard for good shooting is performance on demand. In the field, in the street, or in competition, you only get one chance to make the shot you need to make, and a good marksman does what it takes to make the shot he has 100% of the time. This was probably the most demanding turkey hunt, marksmanship wise, that I can imagine. Rarely would you figure on having to engage at such a close distance with such a sense of urgency, and even rare still does it turn into a two way fight. While I don't feel like my performance was stellar, in the end I was able to end it fairly quick and retrieve the animal. On the other hand, I am fine with just calling this a bizarre day in the bush, taking from it what lessons I can, and mulling it over over some fresh Turkey soup...
So there it is, my three round gun battle with an Ontario Wild Turkey. I'm sure this event will generate some opinions. I can't wait.
