MOGC
05-04-2009, 09:54 PM
I've been blessed with quite a day today... Just before daylight I was hiking down an old U.S. Forest Service gravel road in the Mark Twain National Forest. I have an area that historically holds some birds, but it is a hike and a half cross country to get back in there. This area is rough Ozark mountain country and has been made rougher by ice storm damage to the forest. The ice snapped the tops out of the pines and simply uprooted many of the large oak trees. The terrain is steep with deep spring branch hollers and steep sided ridges that wind for miles with seemingly endless forest.
About ¾ mile from the truck I hit the familiar “who cooks for you…” serenade and was rewarded with two gobblers that answered with a gusty “gaarrrobble” from each. Only problem was they weren’t on my ridgeline. Both gobblers were across a deep holler that has a sizable spring creek running through it and on the opposing ridgeline. They were about ¼ mile east of me also. I gave another barred owl hoot and both gobblers fired right up again. One was high on the opposing ridge and the other much lower. Nothing to it, just go over there and set-up…
I made distance to the east along the ridgeline I was on figuring to get between the two gobblers. I then slanted off down slope. Trying not to tangle in the blow downs or drop off a bluff I eventually made it to the spring in the bottom. Rain run off had the normally fair size spring now running near flood stage. I slipped along the bank until I found a place I felt I could wade across. The current was strong and the rocks slippery, but I managed to not get wet, though the water level was nearly over my 17” snake boots. Once across I eased up on a little flat just above the creek and hit a crow call. Gaarrrrrobble! From both birds, one pretty close. I quickly sat down against a large oak, pulled on my facemask, and slipped out my glass pot/peg call. I made a couple sweet sleepy little yelps and BAM both gobblers fired right up. The closer one gobbled again on his own and I thought I was in business for sure. I waited and the bird fired off another gobble on his own. I gave him a sly couple of clucks and then disaster. The bird immediately double gobbled, however, an unseen deer got my scent and began snorting and blowing and then ran off right toward the gobbler! I waited a little and then some crows sounded off and my bird answered, he had moved up the ridge and away from me.
I moved as quick as I could down the creek and circled wide around him. I climbed up on what I thought was the same level as him on a nice little flat in some pretty woods and set up again. A couple of clucks brought an immediate response. I decided to fire him up just a little and hit him with some short cutting and I thought this bird was gonna break his neck as he triple gobbled! He moved toward me and the game was on. But the bird was on a bench a level above me on the mountain and would not break down that hill. He gobbled and strutted just 70 yards away, but he would not slip that extra few yards down onto my level. I got luck here too because a coyote ran into me from the opposite side of the gobbler. Wiley Coyote did a fast fly by looked me over from about 20 yards, probably got a good whiff of my sweat soaked camo, and dipped off into the creek bottom. Oh geezzz, what else is gonna try to mess this up? I decided not to press this because after 30 minutes the gobbler was not moving down to me. I shut up and when he was on the far end of his bench I slipped back down into the creek to swing around him again and try to actually get on the same level with him this time.
As fast as I could manage through the rough country I made about another 300 yards in the direction the gobbler wanted to go and then hit a point that sloped out of the creek and upward toward the ridge top. All this moving is taking me farther and farther AWAY from the truck - of course. This time I climbed out of the spring branch bottom and paused for a breather on a little point. Suddenly I see something black about 30 yards away… HOGS! Four wild hogs were happily crunching acorns and feeding my way! One looked to be about 125 pounds and seemed to be the largest. I let them come until the biggest one was only ten yards and when it looked away I settled the bead of the Benelli at the base of his ear and let loose a swarm of Hevi-13 #6’s. At the shot the hog flipped nearly head over heels and squealed to beat the band for about five seconds or so before giving up the ghost. The others were black as sin and moved faster than Satan as they streaked away through the timber. Wow!
Now what have I done to the gobbler? I checked the hog out pretty quick and then hoofed it on up the ridge as fast as I could. I got above the level where the draws leading down to the spring bottom were and on a nice flat just below the ridge top. Finding a place where I could see fairly well I hit the crow call to check on the gobbler. Gaarrrobble! That fast moving son-of-a-gun was still ahead of me! He was what sounded like 200 yards down the ridge from me. I floated out a couple of soft yelps and he immediately double gobbled! I answered with the same yelps and he fired right up… I’m in business - again.
This old warhorse was hot, however, he wasn’t just running into the call. It took nearly 40 minutes of some subtle and some not so subtle sexy hen talk to get him within range. He still didn’t really want to commit until I turned my head and began floating the hen talk from a diaphragm call back away and at lower volume as if the hen was becoming disinterested and walking away. That broke him and suddenly I saw his white softball size head peeking over a little knoll at me. His wattles were fire truck red and he was coming. The old bird was angling back up toward the ridge top but he was cutting the distance and now in view as he semi-strutted through the timber and spring green-up. At about 35 yards I tracked him and triggered the shot. I’d love to say there was a classic “bang-flop”…. but there wasn’t. Bark exploded from a tree where his head should have been - a miss! The gobbler jumped a little in the air and then did something that totally caught me off guard - he ran directly toward me! He was running right smack dab at me through the brush zigging in and out but right down the gun barrel. I didn’t want to shoot him in the body and his head looked like a white Ping Pong ball rocketing at me. At fifteen yards I missed his head again! I guess he zigged and I zagged? Now at only ten yards the old boy saw me for the first time and did an abrupt turn and streaked for the bottom of the ridge. I actually thought to myself… “you only have one shot - make it count. You’re too close, gotta get on him!” I was really lucky and brained him at about 12 steps.
I sat for a long time in the leaves and stroked the old mountain monarchs iridescent feathers in the sunlight. Three hours, several set-ups, and 2 ½ rough miles from where I started I had the greatest prize of the spring woods. I could barely stuff the 24 pounder in my vest for the long rough cross country trek back. I believe he is a three or four year old bird with that weight and 1 3/8 inch spurs, one of which is rounded and broken. That is quite a monster Ozark mountain bird, these old boys feed on acorns and dodge bobcats and coyotes year round. As I sweated my precious load off the mountain one thing kept coming to mind… thank you Lord for all your blessings.
http://www.hunt101.com/data/500/medium/Ozark_Mtns.jpg
http://www.hunt101.com/data/500/medium/Ozark_Mtn_Gobbler.jpg
About ¾ mile from the truck I hit the familiar “who cooks for you…” serenade and was rewarded with two gobblers that answered with a gusty “gaarrrobble” from each. Only problem was they weren’t on my ridgeline. Both gobblers were across a deep holler that has a sizable spring creek running through it and on the opposing ridgeline. They were about ¼ mile east of me also. I gave another barred owl hoot and both gobblers fired right up again. One was high on the opposing ridge and the other much lower. Nothing to it, just go over there and set-up…
I made distance to the east along the ridgeline I was on figuring to get between the two gobblers. I then slanted off down slope. Trying not to tangle in the blow downs or drop off a bluff I eventually made it to the spring in the bottom. Rain run off had the normally fair size spring now running near flood stage. I slipped along the bank until I found a place I felt I could wade across. The current was strong and the rocks slippery, but I managed to not get wet, though the water level was nearly over my 17” snake boots. Once across I eased up on a little flat just above the creek and hit a crow call. Gaarrrrrobble! From both birds, one pretty close. I quickly sat down against a large oak, pulled on my facemask, and slipped out my glass pot/peg call. I made a couple sweet sleepy little yelps and BAM both gobblers fired right up. The closer one gobbled again on his own and I thought I was in business for sure. I waited and the bird fired off another gobble on his own. I gave him a sly couple of clucks and then disaster. The bird immediately double gobbled, however, an unseen deer got my scent and began snorting and blowing and then ran off right toward the gobbler! I waited a little and then some crows sounded off and my bird answered, he had moved up the ridge and away from me.
I moved as quick as I could down the creek and circled wide around him. I climbed up on what I thought was the same level as him on a nice little flat in some pretty woods and set up again. A couple of clucks brought an immediate response. I decided to fire him up just a little and hit him with some short cutting and I thought this bird was gonna break his neck as he triple gobbled! He moved toward me and the game was on. But the bird was on a bench a level above me on the mountain and would not break down that hill. He gobbled and strutted just 70 yards away, but he would not slip that extra few yards down onto my level. I got luck here too because a coyote ran into me from the opposite side of the gobbler. Wiley Coyote did a fast fly by looked me over from about 20 yards, probably got a good whiff of my sweat soaked camo, and dipped off into the creek bottom. Oh geezzz, what else is gonna try to mess this up? I decided not to press this because after 30 minutes the gobbler was not moving down to me. I shut up and when he was on the far end of his bench I slipped back down into the creek to swing around him again and try to actually get on the same level with him this time.
As fast as I could manage through the rough country I made about another 300 yards in the direction the gobbler wanted to go and then hit a point that sloped out of the creek and upward toward the ridge top. All this moving is taking me farther and farther AWAY from the truck - of course. This time I climbed out of the spring branch bottom and paused for a breather on a little point. Suddenly I see something black about 30 yards away… HOGS! Four wild hogs were happily crunching acorns and feeding my way! One looked to be about 125 pounds and seemed to be the largest. I let them come until the biggest one was only ten yards and when it looked away I settled the bead of the Benelli at the base of his ear and let loose a swarm of Hevi-13 #6’s. At the shot the hog flipped nearly head over heels and squealed to beat the band for about five seconds or so before giving up the ghost. The others were black as sin and moved faster than Satan as they streaked away through the timber. Wow!
Now what have I done to the gobbler? I checked the hog out pretty quick and then hoofed it on up the ridge as fast as I could. I got above the level where the draws leading down to the spring bottom were and on a nice flat just below the ridge top. Finding a place where I could see fairly well I hit the crow call to check on the gobbler. Gaarrrobble! That fast moving son-of-a-gun was still ahead of me! He was what sounded like 200 yards down the ridge from me. I floated out a couple of soft yelps and he immediately double gobbled! I answered with the same yelps and he fired right up… I’m in business - again.
This old warhorse was hot, however, he wasn’t just running into the call. It took nearly 40 minutes of some subtle and some not so subtle sexy hen talk to get him within range. He still didn’t really want to commit until I turned my head and began floating the hen talk from a diaphragm call back away and at lower volume as if the hen was becoming disinterested and walking away. That broke him and suddenly I saw his white softball size head peeking over a little knoll at me. His wattles were fire truck red and he was coming. The old bird was angling back up toward the ridge top but he was cutting the distance and now in view as he semi-strutted through the timber and spring green-up. At about 35 yards I tracked him and triggered the shot. I’d love to say there was a classic “bang-flop”…. but there wasn’t. Bark exploded from a tree where his head should have been - a miss! The gobbler jumped a little in the air and then did something that totally caught me off guard - he ran directly toward me! He was running right smack dab at me through the brush zigging in and out but right down the gun barrel. I didn’t want to shoot him in the body and his head looked like a white Ping Pong ball rocketing at me. At fifteen yards I missed his head again! I guess he zigged and I zagged? Now at only ten yards the old boy saw me for the first time and did an abrupt turn and streaked for the bottom of the ridge. I actually thought to myself… “you only have one shot - make it count. You’re too close, gotta get on him!” I was really lucky and brained him at about 12 steps.
I sat for a long time in the leaves and stroked the old mountain monarchs iridescent feathers in the sunlight. Three hours, several set-ups, and 2 ½ rough miles from where I started I had the greatest prize of the spring woods. I could barely stuff the 24 pounder in my vest for the long rough cross country trek back. I believe he is a three or four year old bird with that weight and 1 3/8 inch spurs, one of which is rounded and broken. That is quite a monster Ozark mountain bird, these old boys feed on acorns and dodge bobcats and coyotes year round. As I sweated my precious load off the mountain one thing kept coming to mind… thank you Lord for all your blessings.
http://www.hunt101.com/data/500/medium/Ozark_Mtns.jpg
http://www.hunt101.com/data/500/medium/Ozark_Mtn_Gobbler.jpg