Carolina Hunt

Turkeyplucker · Thu Mar 30, 2017 2:02 am

Full disclosure...Gobblenow shamed me from the shadows to post a run-down of yesterday's hunt. I used to be somewhat of a regular lurker/poster on here some years back. I live in the edge of the mountains/foothills of SC. I also have taken many trips to hunt in Virginia, starting in 1982 with my Dad. There's just something about turkey hunting the mountains of Virginia in the springtime. Memories to last a lifetime.

Our SC season opened Mar. 20 on private land. It opens this Sat. on public land. I have a few private tracts, but mostly hunt National Forest land. My scouting here has resulted in in gobbling in the tree, but ground gobbles have been harder for me to come by. I had not hunted at all prior to yesterday, due mainly to work obligations and not hearing much gobbling on the private tracts I can hunt. However, I did hear two birds sound off in the river bottoms behind the house last Sat.

I had to work Monday morning, but roosted a bird late Monday afternoon, while out feeding my coon hound and chickens. The bird gobbled about 10 times going to roost, and was roosted across the river in a white pine stand on the edge of a long, narrow river bottom pasture. I knew I would have to negotiate a thicket on my side of the river, wade the river and be set up on the edge of the pasture before daylight. I was concerned about getting through the thicket without a flashlight (making too much noise), and conversely I would potentially be in sight of the roosted bird if I used a flashlight. I corresponded with Gobblenow that night, getting his advice on how close I could get to the roosted bird with a flashlight. The woods are wide open here...no foliage. GN mentioned that he normally feels his way through the dark on these setups, rather than chancing it with a flashlight, which is what I typically do too. GN also mentioned that turkeys don't seem to spook to the red LED flashlights. Anyone else have experience with that?

Let's just say GN's comment that it should be "a piece of cake" did little to build my confidence. I responded with the "roosted ain't roasted" adage, which has proven so true for me over the years. But... my lack of confidence was surely offset by my high hopes! That night's forecast called for strong thunderstorms, and boy did we get em in long waves. The excitement and anticipation of having a roosted bird, the booming thunder, and down pouring rain kept me awake a lot during the night. Okay, I'll admit it was the anticipation of the hunt. Storms rarely keep me awake. I must've watched the weather radar map in motion 100 times, hoping the storms would be gone by daylight.

At about 5:30 AM I walked out on the porch to a million stars in the sky, and surprisingly ...no wind. It was on! As I headed out the back door, I made my way across the field to where the farm road enters the wood line, hoping to not wake my bluetick hound. Ol Sadie was on guard though, and began booger barking at me. Her bawling momentarily reverberated up and down the river bottom, bouncing from hillside to mountaintop, and echoing down the valley. I very quickly jogged back up to reassure her it was me and to hush. She seemed as relieved to see it was me as I was to hear her stop. Down the ridge I went and over the nose of the mountain into the river bottom. I sloshed through my field and into a river birch thicket bordering the creek. Feeling my way through I reached the river. It was swollen and roaring from the night's heavy rains. In the dark I began wading not knowing exactly how deep it would be. I quickly learned that the flow in my normal crossing spot had risen well over my Lacrosse knee boots. I kind of expected that, but once the cold water hit waist level I began to get more than a little concerned! The depth and current were equally intimidating in the darkness, damping my hopes for this hunt. One thing I knew for certain, this hunt would be a wet, cold and uncomfortable one. I was soaked and beginning to really question my well laid plan. A great sense of relief came over me as I reached the far bank. I'm not sure why exactly I was relieved, perhaps just happy I didn't lose my footing and go under. I was soaked up to my waist and damp everywhere else from brushing through the thicket. I could see the outline of my setup tree, a big split trunk birch, on the horizon. I crawled up the vertical creek bank and decided to just crawl on over to my tree. I was already soaked. I settled in against the big tree.

I began to have doubts and feared the bird would not gobble after enduring the night's monsoon. Sitting in the soggy pre dawn makes a turkey hunter worry, and question the best plans...did Sadie's confounded howling spook my bird, had I made too much noise in the thicket and crossing the creek, did the gobbler drown in the rain (haha), would he set on the limb all morning in the light fog? I worried enough to talk myself into not venturing through the rest of the cane and brush to pop out a hen decoy in the field. Too much had already gone wrong to chance it.

Surprisingly to me, the crack of day resulted in a booming gobble on the ridge about 100 yards upstream and across the creek bottom. The bird gobbled hard on the roost, responding to every sound...owls, crows, cattle, a distant car horn. I made a decision early that I was not going to call until he flew down. So I waited and enjoyed the music, so excited to be back in the spring turkey woods, but wishing I had put out that decoy! As fly down light dawned the bird gobbled less, I reasoned he was likely contemplating his flight path into the pasture. Then in an instant a booming shot gun shocked the moist air several hundred yards beyond the turkey. All gobbling ceased. Disgust began to set in. Then more questions...a poacher had slipped in, or had my neighbor given this person permission? Oh no! Had my gobbler flown to this hunter and got bush whacked? Several minutes after the shot, which seemed and eternity, a lone hen flew out headed up river. Then the gobbler, much to my surprise, sailed down the river bottom. This left me positioned directly in between the gobbler and hen. That doesn't happen often. Based on his trajectory I estimated the gobbler must've touched down about 150 yards down river from me and out of sight. I was encouraged that the shot had apparently separated the gobbler from this hen. I had no idea how spooked he would be, so I just waited, hoping for a gobble. After about 15-20 minutes the bird gobbled again. This bird quickly took a "gobbling fit," as my Dad would say. A few clucks series of soft yelps later and the ol boy strutted and gobbled into range. I had to shoot left handed, but that was no big deal.

After everything that could possibly go wrong happened, somehow miraculously luck was definitely on my side. It's nice to get an early start by tagging a bird on the first hunt out of the gate! I did not weigh the bird but he was a nice heavy bird with about 1 inch Spurs. I'm guessing he weighed about 18-19 lbs.

I wish the same luck for your Virginia opener, well maybe minus the bawling coon dog, torrential downpours, soaking river wading, and poachers shooting at your birds :lol:

Carolina Hunt

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