nchunterga19
Member
The morning the gobble stopped in Mom’s Chop. "turkey hunt from 2015" **Long story*
Mom’s chop had always been a spot for success. 3 hardwood ridges paired with a creek bottom flat, and a pine thicket that bordered the north end of the largest ridge. I always made sure I would call or txt my uncles to make sure that they knew I’d be there bright and early in the mornings we all hunted together. My step father would usually hunt close to the house. My step father was a true modern-day Mountain man. His brothers were my uncles, and his son was my best friend. See ole K.P “My step-father” took me in, and made me his son when I was in a rut and had no-where to go. He Taught me things, showed me things, and helped me when I didn’t even know at the time I really needed it. I killed my 1st turkey with his shot gun. A Mossberg 500. 12 gauge, that son of gun kicked harder than a mule and had a bark louder than a CensoredCensoredCensoredCensoredCensoredCensored off Rottweiler. But it killed. It killed his 1st turkey, as well as mine. We lost K.P. one tragic day in January of 2014. But we didn’t lose the memories or his spirit.
I woke up one morning with the feeling that it was going to happen. I had watched the gobblers every morning leading up to this morning. I knew where they were headed, I knew where to be. At least that’s I what I thought this morning. As I crossed the small creek bed and entered in to mom’s chop, I could hear a faint gobble. I thought to myself well that bird has started early this morning. As I reached the halfway point to my original spot for the morning hunt, I stopped to listen for any birds. Nothing. Pure silence. Agony. For 3 mornings in a row I would hear birds by sunrise. 7 to 8 different gobblers sometimes. However, this morning it was silent. I decided to go to the top of the ridge I had seen the birds go to the morning before. As I got to the top, where it would flatten out, I decided to sit down and just listen. For a whole hour I heard absolutely nothing. I ended up letting the run N’ gun inside of me get the best of me. As I walked down the ridge to my original spot I began to kick the leaves and get real aggressive with my butt-naked hen mouth call by Tom Teasers. As I neared the bottom of the ridge a gobbler struck out a hard, and long gobble. I nearly jumped out of my vest. I remember I smiled and said checkmate.
I managed to get as close to the bird as I could without getting to close. As I calmed down, I realized that the Tom was uphill from me, and that there were 3 others as well up hill from me. I suddenly began to think that it was going to be a bust. I had always been told, “you can call a bird up hill and not downhill.” So, I decided to shut-up and listen. I noticed that ole tom hadn’t gobbled in a few minutes, and neither had the other 3 that were up hill. I took out an old slate call I had won 8 years prior. I gently dragged the striker across it and made the perfect purr, with that purr, the woods exploded! The tom that was directly in front of me up the ridge began gobbling, as well as the other 3 up the ridge. This causing the gobbler by himself to shock gobble at them. Before I knew it, I had a bird with a loud and deep gobble erupt from the ridge I had 1st sat at earlier in the morning. I said to myself, “why you son of gun” where were you earlier? As I began to purr some more, I heard a hen with the gobbler behind me start chattering. I knew if I beat the hen, I could have a chance at the gobbler. Well before I knew it she and I were cutting, and yelping at each other like two women arguing over hairdressers. Finally, she decided to take her man behind me and leave me be.
I was now focused on the 4 birds above me. After 30 minutes or so I could finally see the birds. As they slowly crept closer and cautiously, I could see that the 3 birds together were 2 Jake’s and 1 young tom. His beard couldn’t have been 6 inches. As they crept closer towards my decoy, I began to think where was the 4th bird? The one lonesome gobbler. No sooner could I finish the thought, he appears in full-strut. I stopped everything and watched as he moved so slow and so elegant. I had no safe shot and knew if I waited patiently I may have an opportunity. I let out a soft cluck and followed it with a gently purr, and 3 younger birds began gobbling, this causing the lone tom to react. Before I knew it, the lonesome bird was fighting with one of 3 birds. As that bird ran off, he picked another bird and began flogging him and causing complete chaos. Than it was silent.
I knew he was coming towards me but I didn’t know where he would end up. As I thought of a plan and thought that the hunt may be over I felt a gentle breeze on the back of my neck. I smiled and to this day believe that was K.P. telling me to stay put. I began purring again and he let me know he was still interested, with a gobble that shook the leaves on the ground. Knowing he was still not in shooting range due to the hill, and trees, I began to crawl on my belly to get to a point, that would give me a quick shot. As he began to play his games of catch if you can and trot away gobbling I made my move. I reached a dead oak tree and got sit upright and began yelping and cutting, following it with a shock gobble from myself. He couldn’t stand it. The lonesome tom broke away from his strut zone and began to get closer. There was a five-minute period that felt like 5 hours where neither one of us said anything. I scratched some leaves and he let know he was ready to meet the mysterious hen he had been looking for all morning, with giant double gobble. Realizing he had come down hill and all that separated us now was a small rise with 2 small dogwood trees, I quickly cut at him and yelped one final time. Finally, after one of the longest hunts I had experienced in the turkey woods he showed himself. However, he was very weary. Knowing if I called at him anymore, he would realize that something wasn’t right, I froze. Than like magic the wind blew again, causing my decoy to move softly in the wind. The lonesome gobbler couldn’t stand it and had to get a better look at the decoy. As he walked on up, I put the bead on his head and smiled as I squeezed the trigger.
I remember I jumped out of my vest I thanked the Lord as I picked my turkey up. You see, this was the 1st bird I had killed by myself. And the 2nd bird I had killed since I began turkey hunting. Both with K.P.s gun. A gun that means more to me than anything I own. As I sat on that ridge in mom’s chop admiring my bird, I reflected on the memories of sitting at the kitchen table talking hunting stories with K.P. and my uncles and smiled knowing that this turkey hunt would be one of the most memorable hunts I will ever endure in the turkey woods. Realtree outdoors says it best family, friends and the outdoors. Without those 3 things I don’t function as a human. I’ believe we all need to spend more time outdoors, fellowshipping with our family and friends, and thanking the Lord, for his beautiful creations like Mom’s Chop.
Mom’s chop had always been a spot for success. 3 hardwood ridges paired with a creek bottom flat, and a pine thicket that bordered the north end of the largest ridge. I always made sure I would call or txt my uncles to make sure that they knew I’d be there bright and early in the mornings we all hunted together. My step father would usually hunt close to the house. My step father was a true modern-day Mountain man. His brothers were my uncles, and his son was my best friend. See ole K.P “My step-father” took me in, and made me his son when I was in a rut and had no-where to go. He Taught me things, showed me things, and helped me when I didn’t even know at the time I really needed it. I killed my 1st turkey with his shot gun. A Mossberg 500. 12 gauge, that son of gun kicked harder than a mule and had a bark louder than a CensoredCensoredCensoredCensoredCensoredCensored off Rottweiler. But it killed. It killed his 1st turkey, as well as mine. We lost K.P. one tragic day in January of 2014. But we didn’t lose the memories or his spirit.
I woke up one morning with the feeling that it was going to happen. I had watched the gobblers every morning leading up to this morning. I knew where they were headed, I knew where to be. At least that’s I what I thought this morning. As I crossed the small creek bed and entered in to mom’s chop, I could hear a faint gobble. I thought to myself well that bird has started early this morning. As I reached the halfway point to my original spot for the morning hunt, I stopped to listen for any birds. Nothing. Pure silence. Agony. For 3 mornings in a row I would hear birds by sunrise. 7 to 8 different gobblers sometimes. However, this morning it was silent. I decided to go to the top of the ridge I had seen the birds go to the morning before. As I got to the top, where it would flatten out, I decided to sit down and just listen. For a whole hour I heard absolutely nothing. I ended up letting the run N’ gun inside of me get the best of me. As I walked down the ridge to my original spot I began to kick the leaves and get real aggressive with my butt-naked hen mouth call by Tom Teasers. As I neared the bottom of the ridge a gobbler struck out a hard, and long gobble. I nearly jumped out of my vest. I remember I smiled and said checkmate.
I managed to get as close to the bird as I could without getting to close. As I calmed down, I realized that the Tom was uphill from me, and that there were 3 others as well up hill from me. I suddenly began to think that it was going to be a bust. I had always been told, “you can call a bird up hill and not downhill.” So, I decided to shut-up and listen. I noticed that ole tom hadn’t gobbled in a few minutes, and neither had the other 3 that were up hill. I took out an old slate call I had won 8 years prior. I gently dragged the striker across it and made the perfect purr, with that purr, the woods exploded! The tom that was directly in front of me up the ridge began gobbling, as well as the other 3 up the ridge. This causing the gobbler by himself to shock gobble at them. Before I knew it, I had a bird with a loud and deep gobble erupt from the ridge I had 1st sat at earlier in the morning. I said to myself, “why you son of gun” where were you earlier? As I began to purr some more, I heard a hen with the gobbler behind me start chattering. I knew if I beat the hen, I could have a chance at the gobbler. Well before I knew it she and I were cutting, and yelping at each other like two women arguing over hairdressers. Finally, she decided to take her man behind me and leave me be.
I was now focused on the 4 birds above me. After 30 minutes or so I could finally see the birds. As they slowly crept closer and cautiously, I could see that the 3 birds together were 2 Jake’s and 1 young tom. His beard couldn’t have been 6 inches. As they crept closer towards my decoy, I began to think where was the 4th bird? The one lonesome gobbler. No sooner could I finish the thought, he appears in full-strut. I stopped everything and watched as he moved so slow and so elegant. I had no safe shot and knew if I waited patiently I may have an opportunity. I let out a soft cluck and followed it with a gently purr, and 3 younger birds began gobbling, this causing the lone tom to react. Before I knew it, the lonesome bird was fighting with one of 3 birds. As that bird ran off, he picked another bird and began flogging him and causing complete chaos. Than it was silent.
I knew he was coming towards me but I didn’t know where he would end up. As I thought of a plan and thought that the hunt may be over I felt a gentle breeze on the back of my neck. I smiled and to this day believe that was K.P. telling me to stay put. I began purring again and he let me know he was still interested, with a gobble that shook the leaves on the ground. Knowing he was still not in shooting range due to the hill, and trees, I began to crawl on my belly to get to a point, that would give me a quick shot. As he began to play his games of catch if you can and trot away gobbling I made my move. I reached a dead oak tree and got sit upright and began yelping and cutting, following it with a shock gobble from myself. He couldn’t stand it. The lonesome tom broke away from his strut zone and began to get closer. There was a five-minute period that felt like 5 hours where neither one of us said anything. I scratched some leaves and he let know he was ready to meet the mysterious hen he had been looking for all morning, with giant double gobble. Realizing he had come down hill and all that separated us now was a small rise with 2 small dogwood trees, I quickly cut at him and yelped one final time. Finally, after one of the longest hunts I had experienced in the turkey woods he showed himself. However, he was very weary. Knowing if I called at him anymore, he would realize that something wasn’t right, I froze. Than like magic the wind blew again, causing my decoy to move softly in the wind. The lonesome gobbler couldn’t stand it and had to get a better look at the decoy. As he walked on up, I put the bead on his head and smiled as I squeezed the trigger.
I remember I jumped out of my vest I thanked the Lord as I picked my turkey up. You see, this was the 1st bird I had killed by myself. And the 2nd bird I had killed since I began turkey hunting. Both with K.P.s gun. A gun that means more to me than anything I own. As I sat on that ridge in mom’s chop admiring my bird, I reflected on the memories of sitting at the kitchen table talking hunting stories with K.P. and my uncles and smiled knowing that this turkey hunt would be one of the most memorable hunts I will ever endure in the turkey woods. Realtree outdoors says it best family, friends and the outdoors. Without those 3 things I don’t function as a human. I’ believe we all need to spend more time outdoors, fellowshipping with our family and friends, and thanking the Lord, for his beautiful creations like Mom’s Chop.
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