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Twenty Years Ago

Crimson Arrows

Well-Known Member
After hunting the blustery opener, I elected to head back to the same clover field in hopes of running into a love sick gobbler. Despite my optimism though, the turkeys had other ideas, only seeing one lone hen that proceeded to try and peck my DSD hen decoy to death J

Down but not out, I knew that I had to keep pressing with limited time and days to hunt. Hearing ZERO gobbles on the property so far this year was surprising, as I knew of 4-5 longbeards I had captured on trail cams from 3/15-3/31. Still, sitting from 5 AM to 11 AM, I was not rewarded for my endurance or fortitude, but so often that is the case when bowhunting turkeys.

Later that afternoon I worked my way to another farm and again sat in a likely travel corridor, leading from feed to roost. Yet again, the only birds I saw were crows and jays. After sitting 10 hours in the blind that day, maybe they were waiting to scavenge on my remains, thinking surely no man would sit that long and still be alive ;)

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I could only imagine the turkeys had changed patterns or moved to another section of the farm-so I got an idea. My ideas don’t often pan out but again, different tactics-different results? Maybe.

I believe it was Einstein who said, “Only a fool does the same thing and expects different results.” So, I decided to listen to Einstein and head for the deep woods in which I had never hunted.

Why? It is thick and nasty-but one logging road runs through it and would be a great location to set up. I loaded the blind on my back and owl call in my pocket, creeping into the timber around 8PM Wednesday night. I took a seat near a large oak, and did my best to act like a dart board for the mosquitoes that were WAY more plentiful than the turkeys. Hitting the owl call three times over the next 20 minutes I heard nothing, until, heavy wing beats echoed from deep in the hardwoods. This was followed by similar sounds over the next few minutes. Only one bird makes that sound, and I knew I was in business. While I heard no gobbles, I was hoping, one had to be a lock-jawed longbeard.

Thursday morning at 5 AM, I found my way, one step at a time amongst the fallen oak leaves, back to the old logging road. Grey started to break the horizon as I anxiously awaited what I hoped to be a booming gobble from the ridge top. 30 minutes later and I had heard nothing. Maybe I spooked them last night or maybe they weren’t turkeys at all? If it’s one that bowhunting has taught me over the past 20 years, is to be patient. After all, in life, patience very rarely goes unrewarded.

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I began to tree yelp softly and eventually gave a series of lost calls. Yet, one hour later, the woods still remained silent. Then I heard it, it wasn’t the quick footsteps of a squirrel chasing down his next buried acorn, or the cadence of a whitetail, but a slow and steady walking. The footsteps were too quick in rhythm to be a deer, and as I looked out the window of my double bull, here came a big black object with a glowing red head…right for my DSD Jake.

I quickly attached my release, and as his big head crossed the blind window at 3 yards, I noticed he had only a 4” beard. Jake? He looked too big to be a jake, but still, there he stood.

Now, you all may laugh at this but I can’t tag a jake to save my life, and it wasn’t from lack of effort. The last one I killed in Iowa was May 4th, 1992…my first turkey, and one that started an obsession that hasn’t left me. Gary, my good friend’s father, had called that first bird in for me, and gave me something I could never repay, a love for the spring and all that it brings with it. He passed away from cancer a few years ago, and I deeply miss him.

Since then, I have missed a few, been busted by more than I can count, and still couldn’t punch a tag on the leg of a jake. So on this warm spring morning in the hardwoods of Iowa, I took a deep breath, hit full draw, centered my pin, and squeezed the trigger. Running off after the shot as if nothing had happened, the woods were filled with putts and running, and then once again, silence.

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Like any big game animal we take with a bow-I left the blind one hour later-giving him plenty of time. This marked the first time I have ever blood trailed a turkey, and it led me right to his bed, where he likely laid to rest within seconds of the shot, a quick and humane kill. He was indeed a jake, but what a jake he was. With “nearly” a full fan, weighing 17 pounds with a 4.5” beard, I couldn’t be happier.
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I looked up, said a thank you as I always do, and this time, took an extra few seconds to tip my hat to Gary. After all, he’s the one that started this obsession for me so many years ago.

Was even able to scrouge up a few Mushrooms :)
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Good luck to all of you out there-hunt hard, enjoy each moment and remember-it can happen when you least expect it! :way:
 
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Big or small, I hunt them all! :D

Congrats on the bird and the shrooms. Might try to find some shrooms tomorrow myself.
 
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