Crimson Arrows
Well-Known Member
Having another tag in my pocket, and with a few more days to hunt, I decided to give it a go on Wednesday. My baby boy has decided to challenge me a bit in the past week, and has been getting up at hours that make turkey hunting look like a walk in the park.
So, going on 5 hours of sleep in two days, the alarm going off Wednesday morning at 3 AM did nothing to wake me. Somehow though, I heard the snooze going off at 3:30, which consisted of great horned owl hoots that progressively increase in volume. I know I’m in trouble when my wife says, “the OWLS are calling you.” Time to go.
With my coffee maker being more productive than myself, I poured a cup, started my truck, and hit the road.
The farm I was headed to was about 90 miles away, so as I left the last black-top, and my tires hit gravel, I noticed it was a bit more grey to the east than I would like. Should have gotten up at 3 AM L
Loading my gear, a barred owl started his morning ritual, but surprisingly, nothing responded to his calls. By the time I was set-up on the edge of a picked cornfield, it was getting close to fly down time, and I was somewhat relieved that nothing was close, as if they were, surely they would have seen this strange looking creature building a bush and releasing three of their kind in a perfectly arranged circle.
There is something about finally getting set-up, looking around, and realizing you pulled it off without scaring every turkey in the east central Iowa for the border, that makes a turkey hunter feel good J
I had noticed on my walk in that opposed to last year, the early spring had created knee high growth of the surrounded CRP, and past hunts over the years had revealed that gobblers didn’t care for these areas later in the season. Luckily though, the farmer had mown a lane all around the field, one of which abutted the corn, and this is where I chose to wait.
And wait I did.
One hour after first light, I had only heard one gobble WAY off to the west. I had planned on sitting until noon in this strut zone, and with what appeared to be a slow morning, I began to think maybe I could get some shut-eye. That’s when a crow decided to cut loose.
Was that a gobble? Actually, sounded like two gobblers shouting out to their black feathered foe. Why not I thought and hit the diaphragm as hard as I could. Nothing.
20 minutes later, another crow sounded off and this time, I could tell it was definitely two gobblers, but 100 yards closer. Once again I did my best impression of a lonely hen and the response was the same. Nothing.
Sitting back again the thought began to course through my mind, maybe they were headed here anyway, after all, I’d rather be an average caller in an area they wanted to be, rather than world champion in a place they didn’t.
10 minutes passed and this time they cut loose on their own, now sounding 100 yards away, if that. I picked up my bow, cut hard on the diaphragm, yelped five times, and clucked once…. nothing.
Still, I was more confident now than ever they were headed this way.
Maybe 5 minutes passed when my cell phone started to blink, and having a baby at home, I am always on guard as a first time parent, making sure nothing is wrong. I checked, all good, looked up, and here they came.
As my heart switched gears and felt like it was in my throat, I watched in awe as they approached shoulder to shoulder, in full strut, with fans lying so perfectly next to each other I would have thought they were glued together.
They circled my DSD, almost like a scene out of a Bruce Lee movie, and began starring the “fake- jake” down. I waited as they circled three times, knowing the highest percentage shot is quartered away, and finally slid the arrow perfectly into the crease between the full fan and wing.
We all know when we make a good shot, just as easy as we know when we’ve made a bad one, and I knew this was the latter. He ran as fast as any turkey I have ever seen, almost to the point I thought I had missed, and then did a full somersault in the cornfield.
My heart was racing and couldn’t believe how fast that had all transpired. I then noticed the other tom STILL in my decoys, but with no tags left, I reached for my cell camera instead and stuck it nearly out the window. Just as I was about to push the button, he took off almost as fast as the other, and not because he was scared, but rather, to finish his friend off! This ladies and gentleman is why they will never rule the world, and I watched for 5 minutes as he attempted to breed, dismember, and pluck my trophy tom.
Finally realizing I may have nothing left to take pictures of, I escaped my blind and rushed towards them, getting within twenty yards before he likely had a heart attack, and took off flying. The shot had been perfect, and while the softball sized ‘vitals’ are my goal, it never hurts to get lucky and be even more precise. Near the exit wound laid the heart, with one perfect incision through its lobe, and quick kill and the way it should be.
DSD Jake with evidence from the shot:
Heart with quarter for reference:
I took a moment and said thanks to the man upstairs, for I will need to remember these moments when times are tough, shots go astray and birds hang-up. I rrealize tough times may lie ahead, and not every spring will be so blessed, but for the spring of 2012, I’ll take it J
Good luck out there and thanks for reading!
PS I slept last night for 10 hours…and never moved
So, going on 5 hours of sleep in two days, the alarm going off Wednesday morning at 3 AM did nothing to wake me. Somehow though, I heard the snooze going off at 3:30, which consisted of great horned owl hoots that progressively increase in volume. I know I’m in trouble when my wife says, “the OWLS are calling you.” Time to go.
With my coffee maker being more productive than myself, I poured a cup, started my truck, and hit the road.
The farm I was headed to was about 90 miles away, so as I left the last black-top, and my tires hit gravel, I noticed it was a bit more grey to the east than I would like. Should have gotten up at 3 AM L
Loading my gear, a barred owl started his morning ritual, but surprisingly, nothing responded to his calls. By the time I was set-up on the edge of a picked cornfield, it was getting close to fly down time, and I was somewhat relieved that nothing was close, as if they were, surely they would have seen this strange looking creature building a bush and releasing three of their kind in a perfectly arranged circle.
There is something about finally getting set-up, looking around, and realizing you pulled it off without scaring every turkey in the east central Iowa for the border, that makes a turkey hunter feel good J
I had noticed on my walk in that opposed to last year, the early spring had created knee high growth of the surrounded CRP, and past hunts over the years had revealed that gobblers didn’t care for these areas later in the season. Luckily though, the farmer had mown a lane all around the field, one of which abutted the corn, and this is where I chose to wait.
And wait I did.
One hour after first light, I had only heard one gobble WAY off to the west. I had planned on sitting until noon in this strut zone, and with what appeared to be a slow morning, I began to think maybe I could get some shut-eye. That’s when a crow decided to cut loose.
Was that a gobble? Actually, sounded like two gobblers shouting out to their black feathered foe. Why not I thought and hit the diaphragm as hard as I could. Nothing.
20 minutes later, another crow sounded off and this time, I could tell it was definitely two gobblers, but 100 yards closer. Once again I did my best impression of a lonely hen and the response was the same. Nothing.
Sitting back again the thought began to course through my mind, maybe they were headed here anyway, after all, I’d rather be an average caller in an area they wanted to be, rather than world champion in a place they didn’t.
10 minutes passed and this time they cut loose on their own, now sounding 100 yards away, if that. I picked up my bow, cut hard on the diaphragm, yelped five times, and clucked once…. nothing.
Still, I was more confident now than ever they were headed this way.
Maybe 5 minutes passed when my cell phone started to blink, and having a baby at home, I am always on guard as a first time parent, making sure nothing is wrong. I checked, all good, looked up, and here they came.
As my heart switched gears and felt like it was in my throat, I watched in awe as they approached shoulder to shoulder, in full strut, with fans lying so perfectly next to each other I would have thought they were glued together.
They circled my DSD, almost like a scene out of a Bruce Lee movie, and began starring the “fake- jake” down. I waited as they circled three times, knowing the highest percentage shot is quartered away, and finally slid the arrow perfectly into the crease between the full fan and wing.
We all know when we make a good shot, just as easy as we know when we’ve made a bad one, and I knew this was the latter. He ran as fast as any turkey I have ever seen, almost to the point I thought I had missed, and then did a full somersault in the cornfield.
My heart was racing and couldn’t believe how fast that had all transpired. I then noticed the other tom STILL in my decoys, but with no tags left, I reached for my cell camera instead and stuck it nearly out the window. Just as I was about to push the button, he took off almost as fast as the other, and not because he was scared, but rather, to finish his friend off! This ladies and gentleman is why they will never rule the world, and I watched for 5 minutes as he attempted to breed, dismember, and pluck my trophy tom.
Finally realizing I may have nothing left to take pictures of, I escaped my blind and rushed towards them, getting within twenty yards before he likely had a heart attack, and took off flying. The shot had been perfect, and while the softball sized ‘vitals’ are my goal, it never hurts to get lucky and be even more precise. Near the exit wound laid the heart, with one perfect incision through its lobe, and quick kill and the way it should be.
DSD Jake with evidence from the shot:
Heart with quarter for reference:
I took a moment and said thanks to the man upstairs, for I will need to remember these moments when times are tough, shots go astray and birds hang-up. I rrealize tough times may lie ahead, and not every spring will be so blessed, but for the spring of 2012, I’ll take it J
Good luck out there and thanks for reading!
PS I slept last night for 10 hours…and never moved
