Saturday April 15, 2006
I made the 3 and half hour trip down to my place in WV so that I could hunt with my old man the next morning in Bath County on National Forest. Dad had done some scouting and actually saw a group of 5 to 6 longbeards on a government road about 25 minutes from my house across the border in Bath County. So at 5:15 Saturday morning we headed out unsure if the weather would hold off for us or not. After passing about 4 trucks parked along the way on the way in, we got to the spot about 5:45 and to our surprise nobody else was parked near there, so we slipped out the ridge for about ¾ mile from the road. Having never hunted this exact spot before I just took a leap of faith based on what I could see through the skylight of the terrain and setup overlooking a north slope that held some white pines about 50 yds down the slope. I figured it was as good a place as any for a gobbler to be roosted. Well about 6:10 I heard a hen cluck from those pines and my spirits went up. But by 7:00 no gobbling had started, we did hear a couple gobblers real distant that included one that sound like he was back on the WV side of the mountain. I started to call figuring nothing was talking on their own nearby so what the heck, I got out the Power Crystal and went to town. About 7:10 I thought I heard a distant gobble out in front of us across the steep ravine and up on the other ridge more than a mile away. I ask dad if he heard that and he said no, his ears are not as good as they once were. I called again and heard it again, I was sure he was answering me. I told dad we had to get closer. Off we went toward what I hoped was a gobbler sounding off. We walked about 300 yds and I called again, nothing in response, I was starting to doubt myself. I told Dad lets just sit here a while and call, I called a few times and this time I heard a distant gobble over to my right way up the hollow from where I thought the first one I heard was. Dad could still not hear this one either. He started gobbling and was gobbling on his own about every ten seconds or so. Again I told Dad we had to get closer, so we moved again, by this time we were well over a mile and a half from the truck, and I was worried about Dad because he can’t walk like he used to either. We moved within 200 yds of the drop off to the hollow and there was one little Oak flat before the drop off and we could hear a strong running Mountain Stream rushing over the rocks below us, I told dad we need to stop here or we won’t be able to hear anything any closer to that stream. I called on the Crystal again not expecting to get a response but as soon as I stopped my last note a Bird Thundered back from across the Ravine up the other ridge about half way, this was the original bird I had heard and not the second gobbler who was still way to our right. Dad heard him this time
and I saw the grin grow on his face. I set Dad up out in front of me about 15 yds in the perfect spot where the Ridge topped into the flat so if the bird did come he would have a 30 yd shot when he showed up. I started calling pretty hard on the Power Crystal and yelping and cutting on one of Max’s Spanish Flydown calls. I was not too optimistic that this bird would leave that ridge cross a ravine with a gushing mountain stream and come to our setup on the other side, but I also knew that Dad was tired and I couldn’t ask him to make the trek over to the gobbler. So I called too much and too loud, well the bird liked it so I shut up and figured I would give him a while. About 10 minutes later he gobbled on our side of the ravine about 100 yds below us I called a couple more times and shut up again, 5 minutes went by and this time he gobbled up the hill from me to my left. He was flanking us, I eased around my tree and saw dad doing the same at his, I purred a few times on my mouth call and I saw his white head bobbing through the underbrush about 60 yds and closing, over the lip in the terrain, he went into a dip in between and out of site, I turned to Dad and whispered I see him he is coming and just then he blew our hats off with a gobble right over the lip and Dad pointed at me and pulled his trigger finger, to indicate for me to shoot him if I have a shot. I took a wild guess that he would not come right at me and in my face at less than 10 yds up over that lip, but instead would flank more to my left again into a little cove that lead to the flat that I was on, so I moved on around my tree to where I hoped he would show himself. For once this bird did what I thought and popped up right where my gun was pointed, he popped into strut once and then walked behind a stump I got the gun re-positioned and when he came out I laid him to rest. I looked back at Dad and he said I didn’t heard any wings flapping so that is either good or bad, meaning he is done for or I missed and he ran off. I told him he was done for. We walked up to the bird and I gave my old man a hug and thanked him for coming with me today, and I said that I wish that you could have shot him. He said no I get more joy out of you killing them. We were pleasantly surprised when I turned him over to find some nice 1 1/8 black as coal daggers on him. 19.5 lbs and 10 inch beard. This one will stay in my heart for a long time to come. Nothing like a Mountain Monarch on public land and to top it off to share it with my old man.
This is my old man with the Bird
Here is me holding the spurs but the image is a little fuzzy and doesn't do them justice..
