Was typing this morning and happened to look down and see a old scar on my left hand. Then it kicked in where it came from. Myself and Vagrousehunter many moons ago hunted in a desolate place in Texas by the name of Rock Springs. Place no longer allows hunting, but for several years it had turkey hunting that most folks dream about. Among the thousands of acres was detached piece known as the 660. No secret, in the fact that the property consisted of 660 acres (the smallest section we had to hunt). Well, as in many areas in that part of the country, roost tree's are few and far between and roost tree's around water are even harder to come by. Well, the 660 bordered another piece of property that had a small farm tank (Western term for a pond). The roost tree's were on the 660, but the pond was 40 yards away on the adjoining piece of property bisected by a ten foot high game fence (again common in Texas).

In those roost tree's were generally about a 100 turkeys every night. Pre-dawn you could hear then gobbling for a mile away on a cool crisp morning. Most of the birds when leaving the roost trees flew across the high fence and landed next to the pond and several groups of 4 to 5 gobblers would start strutting for the hens. Might be 25 strutters in total out there doing their thing every morning. After 20-30 minutes the hens would take the big boys and wander off and various directions. The game for us was to try to get at least some of the gobblers to pitch down on our side of the fence which they weren't inclined to do.

Well this particular morning I set up within 50 yards of the roost trees (I'd never done that before). So close you could almost hear them breathing up there. In the early pre-dawn minutes I could look up and see 30-40 birds moving around on limbs. Facing this way, facing that way. Walking to and fro. Once the gobbling started you could see gobblers strutting on the limbs and vocal battles continued in waves for twenty minutes. Almost too afraid to move I managed to fish out a Power crystal and yelp a bit. Didn't really matter what sound I made, with that many gobblers fired up to that degree several jumped all over me. Then I just waited.

Once the fly downs started most birds flew over the fence and hit the pond bank and started strutting. Two however pitched down on my side. I'd alreay had the gun pretty much in the ready position and soon as I lined up the closest gobbler, I yanked (there was no squeezing believe me) the trigger. Down he went flopping and rolling down the hill. I ran down and like an idiot grabbed both his legs and bingo. One massive kick and the blood was running down my palm to my fingers and dripping on the ground. I actually dropped the bird and then proceeded to stomp his head with my boots, all while the blood continued to flow. Bleed so much I actually thought I'd have to have to go see a local doctor, but that would have messed up hunting and therefore some gauze and first aide cream and keep after them again.

Miss that place. I think in about 5 years of going there we killed over 20 turkeys. Lots of 3 year old birds as I recall. One year we only killed 2, but another year I think we got 10.

Anyway, wonder if anyone else has scar stories?

Have a scar on my thumb from a similar incident many moons ago.

Took a friend to the urgent care for stitches a couple of years ago.

Best practice is boot on head... as we both have probably learned!

Even before my accident I never grabbed a bird by the feet.
My Dad always told me..."He ain't dead til you got a boot on his head."
Of course I now know otherwise but back then I always jumped up and ran to a downed bird to get a foot on him.
Probably still would if I could.

Right between my left thumb and forefinger.


Earl