Limb Chicken
Active Member
Yesterday at 5:50 am the Cottonwood King got put in the hurt locker. 27lbs. 10, 1, 1.
This bird would always roost in the same tree, an old cottonwood that was at the head of a finger of timber. He would gobble and gobble and stay in the tree until he would see a hen and fly down. If you were to make the mistake of calling to him on the roost, forget it, he would stay in that tree until he saw something, which on one occasion was my middle finger. One morning didn't fly down until 10am. I had run into this bird a couple of times and watched him walk out of the finger look at the decoys and walk back in gobbling his head off. He was also a large bird who seemed to run the show in that area. To be honest, I had a genuine dislike for this bird and wanted him dead.
Yesterday Weasel had the day off and a tag to fill so we decided to go after the Cottonwood King. We arrived in what we thought was good time only to realize that it was getting light very early for some reason, we hustled to the spot I had picked out put the decoys out and jumped in the blind. Dawn arrived and the noise begun, but nothing from the CW King. Did we get to close? Did he roost somewhere else or was he just waiting for me to call to him so he could sit in that tree and gobble all morning?
Well he finally lit up and a feeling of relief came over me, it was, game on.
I left the calls in my pack so I wasn't even tempted to call to him. All other gobblers are on the ground and this joker is once again announcing to the world that he is the Cottonwood King and you will come to him. Right. Not this time pal. He finally flew down and I picked up the call quick and let out a series of yelps and he cut it off but I could tell he was walking away down a ridge in that finger he claimed as his castle. I continued to call and he would answer once in a while until another bird gobbled and then next thing we heard was the sound of spitting and drumming getting closer. This did not please the king and he double gobbled from his castle as the intruder was approaching his hen. The bird came in sight and when he rounded the corner in the standing corn field he then threw his head up started to putt and ran (waddled) all the way around the field right by two hens until he was out of sight. Nice! Scott and I were in utter disbelief and were wondering if we had an intruder of our own when the sound of spittin and drumming shook the blind.
The King was in the corn. He gobbled and was a short 25 yards but still out of sight. The drumming was shaking the corn stalks and when he came into view he was 15 yards.
A perfect shot by Scott ended the kings reign of terror. It was one of the best hunts I have encountered. So congrats to Scott, the King is dead!
This bird would always roost in the same tree, an old cottonwood that was at the head of a finger of timber. He would gobble and gobble and stay in the tree until he would see a hen and fly down. If you were to make the mistake of calling to him on the roost, forget it, he would stay in that tree until he saw something, which on one occasion was my middle finger. One morning didn't fly down until 10am. I had run into this bird a couple of times and watched him walk out of the finger look at the decoys and walk back in gobbling his head off. He was also a large bird who seemed to run the show in that area. To be honest, I had a genuine dislike for this bird and wanted him dead.
Yesterday Weasel had the day off and a tag to fill so we decided to go after the Cottonwood King. We arrived in what we thought was good time only to realize that it was getting light very early for some reason, we hustled to the spot I had picked out put the decoys out and jumped in the blind. Dawn arrived and the noise begun, but nothing from the CW King. Did we get to close? Did he roost somewhere else or was he just waiting for me to call to him so he could sit in that tree and gobble all morning?
I left the calls in my pack so I wasn't even tempted to call to him. All other gobblers are on the ground and this joker is once again announcing to the world that he is the Cottonwood King and you will come to him. Right. Not this time pal. He finally flew down and I picked up the call quick and let out a series of yelps and he cut it off but I could tell he was walking away down a ridge in that finger he claimed as his castle. I continued to call and he would answer once in a while until another bird gobbled and then next thing we heard was the sound of spitting and drumming getting closer. This did not please the king and he double gobbled from his castle as the intruder was approaching his hen. The bird came in sight and when he rounded the corner in the standing corn field he then threw his head up started to putt and ran (waddled) all the way around the field right by two hens until he was out of sight. Nice! Scott and I were in utter disbelief and were wondering if we had an intruder of our own when the sound of spittin and drumming shook the blind.
A perfect shot by Scott ended the kings reign of terror. It was one of the best hunts I have encountered. So congrats to Scott, the King is dead!
