spklbuk
Well-known member
This, well, this is the story of the opening morning of turkey season for a coupla of my way too numerous alter egos. Blood Lust (my reptile brain) and Magnum (my semi-rational brain) are veteran soldiers of many, many turkey skirmishes. The day begins in the pre-dawn hours, as these intrepid pursuers of all things feathered are packing to leave and Magnum is telling his ever-faithful companion Shadow, “Sorry Baby Girl, you have to stay here and work the farm today b/c you would scare off all the birds.” To which she replies w/ her best “Well, OK, I guess, Dad” look, but Blood Lust knew she was really thinkin’, “Stay here my ass, I earned this trip after that ride you sent me and Ray on a coupla weeks ago.”
Anywho, sans Shadow, Blood Lust and Magnum arrive in TurkeyLand well before daylight and gear up to hit the battlefield. Now, akin to nirvana to all chasers of wily birds, I knew from recent scouting sorties that THE SPOT of “OL’ BOSS GOBBLER,” my ultimate nemesis had been located. Now for those of you uneducated in the ways of these dastardly birds, the strut zone is where turkey gobblers hang out first thing after morning fly down and display for the harem of hens they have gathered by gobblin’ on the roost at daybreak. On one of the aforementioned sorties, I had witnessed this very show by this very Ol’ Boss gobbler.
Though it is still too dark to tell where to put your feet, Blood Lust eases up to the far edge of the field of battle and reports in, “Blood Lust to Magnum, I’m out on pre-dawn patrol, any advice on how to proceed?” ‘Hold up at the edge of the pine patch, Blood Lust, and observe THE SPOT from a distance to see how things are shaping up, otherwise you might bump Ol’ Boss off the roost and he’ll fly off to Timbuktu , over.” “10-4, Magnum.”
Day inevitably breaks and Boss Gobbler is making a concerted effort to gobble his damn fool head off. Gobble, gobble, double gobble, triple gobble, jus’ gobble for the halibut gobble; but nary an answer from even a single sweet lil’ hen. The only answers he hears are from distant competitors. Well, after this goes on fer well over 30 min., Boss can’t take it anymore and he flies down, gobbles and struts a few times to show any and all interested parties jus’ how impressed he is with hisself and finally wanders off in pursuit of breakfast since a quickie or two does not appear to be on his early mornin’ agenda.
Hmmmnn, says Blood Lust, no ladies fer Boss this mornin’, this could well work to my advantage [Like, I said, Blood Lust and Magnum are well schooled (of hard knocks) in the ways of these reprehensible birds]. Stealthily using the terrain to my advantage, Blood Lust makes about a quarter mile circle and comes out precisely w/in range of THE SPOT, quickly sets a pair of decoys and nestles into a makeshift blind erected from all natural materials yesterday afternoon (you know, Blood Lust is a stickler fer keepin’ things all natural, exceptin’ of course for the $3/4K worth of camo, calls, camelbak, genuine Cabela’s Couch Tater turkey vest, special purpose shotgun and generous ammo supply he carries ‘round). “Blood Lust to Magnum, its about another ½ hour until Ol’ Boss is going to gobble again if his usual pattern holds true, how do you want to handle this?” “Cool your jets, Blood Lust, wait for Boss to fill his crop and he’ll gobble again soon enough. Then you answer him with the sweetest yelp you can muster.” “10-4, Magnum.”
Well, as you might suspect, Ol’ Boss gobbles right on cue, so Blood Lust proceeds to float a couple of his finest hen yelps over Boss’ way. Boss answers a coupla times and then develops lockjaw. “Blood Lust to Magnum, WTF, where did he go?” Magnum replies, “Stay at the ready, he might be slippin’ in silent, but say, what’s that I hear way around the hill to your left?” “Well, it sounds like I might have a new suitor, I better answer him too.” “10-4 but stays ready.”
So, Blood Lust pitches a couple yelps to the left and kinda shifts his body that way, cause the new suitor, gobbling like hell, is in a log road and closing fast. At this very moment, out of the corner of my right eye, Blood Lust catches a movement and lo and behold, there comes Ol’ Boss generally sneakin in towards the decoys. He’s out in a wide open pasture and wants to strut, but only does so about half, cause after all, he hasn’t lived long enough to become boss by being stupid enough to fall for static decoys sitting in plain sight.
“Blood Lust to Magnum. Magnum gdammit come in, target in sight, but out of range, is the mission a go? Repeat! Is the mission a go!?” “Negative, Blood Lust, he’s too damn far away.” “That’s easy for you to say, Magnum, your adrenal gland didn’t just dump about 2 liters of joy juice into your blood stream, oh wait, yeah it did.” “Let him circle, he’ll come struttin’ his way in if he figures nothins up, steady Blood Lust, steady.”
Ol’ Boss is at about 45 yards, surely a distance I do not prefer, but one at which properly aimed copper plated No. 6’ exiting an extra full choke are capable of rendering a fatal knock out blow when he steps in line with a big white oak tree standing between my blind and his fine self. Blood Lust shifts back to the right, raises the gun, clicks off the safety and braces against my left knee. Because Murphy is ever present, my facemask is pulled quite tight as it is now trapped under the gun at my cheek, so Blood Lust reaches up with my right hand and pull it free, but there is also this weird sensation of cool water running across my left thigh (Yep, I was worried there for a second). It seems that my left elbow now under the full weight of the gun is sitting squarely on the bite valve of the camelbak, and bein' as how it is squeezed inside my tightly cinched vest, the reservoir seems intent on pumping itself dry. So, I raise up my elbow and Blood Lust shifts the freakin’ tube out of the way with my right hand. About that time, Ol’ Boss steps out from behind the tree, head held high and apparently he has decided to exit to the woods. Did I mention that back up gobbler is now just over the hill, still gobbling and still coming in like the hounds of hell are chasin' him?
“Blood Lust, remember, you tend to shoot high at longer distances with these new fangled fiber optic glow sights. Let him go! The other bird is coming in! LET HIM GO.” “F%&K IT, Magnum, I can take him! He’s THE BOSS and I can take him! Target acquired! Repeat. Target acquired!”
KABOOM!!!!!
Ol Boss deftly ducks his head back into his chest as that full load of copper plated No. 6’s fly just over him and he runs like hell for the woods, hastily bidding THE SPOT adieu. The back up gobbler likely wilted like a fresh leaf lettuce under boiling water and hauled freight for parts unknown, never to be heard from again (today at least).
Yep, I’m here to tell you moto-buds, it takes talent to educate two gobblers at once. Blood Lust and Magnum saved two gobbler’s lives today and perhaps so for the remainder of the season. One damn fun opening morning nonetheless!
Scab, I served, your volley.
Anywho, sans Shadow, Blood Lust and Magnum arrive in TurkeyLand well before daylight and gear up to hit the battlefield. Now, akin to nirvana to all chasers of wily birds, I knew from recent scouting sorties that THE SPOT of “OL’ BOSS GOBBLER,” my ultimate nemesis had been located. Now for those of you uneducated in the ways of these dastardly birds, the strut zone is where turkey gobblers hang out first thing after morning fly down and display for the harem of hens they have gathered by gobblin’ on the roost at daybreak. On one of the aforementioned sorties, I had witnessed this very show by this very Ol’ Boss gobbler.
Though it is still too dark to tell where to put your feet, Blood Lust eases up to the far edge of the field of battle and reports in, “Blood Lust to Magnum, I’m out on pre-dawn patrol, any advice on how to proceed?” ‘Hold up at the edge of the pine patch, Blood Lust, and observe THE SPOT from a distance to see how things are shaping up, otherwise you might bump Ol’ Boss off the roost and he’ll fly off to Timbuktu , over.” “10-4, Magnum.”
Day inevitably breaks and Boss Gobbler is making a concerted effort to gobble his damn fool head off. Gobble, gobble, double gobble, triple gobble, jus’ gobble for the halibut gobble; but nary an answer from even a single sweet lil’ hen. The only answers he hears are from distant competitors. Well, after this goes on fer well over 30 min., Boss can’t take it anymore and he flies down, gobbles and struts a few times to show any and all interested parties jus’ how impressed he is with hisself and finally wanders off in pursuit of breakfast since a quickie or two does not appear to be on his early mornin’ agenda.
Hmmmnn, says Blood Lust, no ladies fer Boss this mornin’, this could well work to my advantage [Like, I said, Blood Lust and Magnum are well schooled (of hard knocks) in the ways of these reprehensible birds]. Stealthily using the terrain to my advantage, Blood Lust makes about a quarter mile circle and comes out precisely w/in range of THE SPOT, quickly sets a pair of decoys and nestles into a makeshift blind erected from all natural materials yesterday afternoon (you know, Blood Lust is a stickler fer keepin’ things all natural, exceptin’ of course for the $3/4K worth of camo, calls, camelbak, genuine Cabela’s Couch Tater turkey vest, special purpose shotgun and generous ammo supply he carries ‘round). “Blood Lust to Magnum, its about another ½ hour until Ol’ Boss is going to gobble again if his usual pattern holds true, how do you want to handle this?” “Cool your jets, Blood Lust, wait for Boss to fill his crop and he’ll gobble again soon enough. Then you answer him with the sweetest yelp you can muster.” “10-4, Magnum.”
Well, as you might suspect, Ol’ Boss gobbles right on cue, so Blood Lust proceeds to float a couple of his finest hen yelps over Boss’ way. Boss answers a coupla times and then develops lockjaw. “Blood Lust to Magnum, WTF, where did he go?” Magnum replies, “Stay at the ready, he might be slippin’ in silent, but say, what’s that I hear way around the hill to your left?” “Well, it sounds like I might have a new suitor, I better answer him too.” “10-4 but stays ready.”
So, Blood Lust pitches a couple yelps to the left and kinda shifts his body that way, cause the new suitor, gobbling like hell, is in a log road and closing fast. At this very moment, out of the corner of my right eye, Blood Lust catches a movement and lo and behold, there comes Ol’ Boss generally sneakin in towards the decoys. He’s out in a wide open pasture and wants to strut, but only does so about half, cause after all, he hasn’t lived long enough to become boss by being stupid enough to fall for static decoys sitting in plain sight.
“Blood Lust to Magnum. Magnum gdammit come in, target in sight, but out of range, is the mission a go? Repeat! Is the mission a go!?” “Negative, Blood Lust, he’s too damn far away.” “That’s easy for you to say, Magnum, your adrenal gland didn’t just dump about 2 liters of joy juice into your blood stream, oh wait, yeah it did.” “Let him circle, he’ll come struttin’ his way in if he figures nothins up, steady Blood Lust, steady.”
Ol’ Boss is at about 45 yards, surely a distance I do not prefer, but one at which properly aimed copper plated No. 6’ exiting an extra full choke are capable of rendering a fatal knock out blow when he steps in line with a big white oak tree standing between my blind and his fine self. Blood Lust shifts back to the right, raises the gun, clicks off the safety and braces against my left knee. Because Murphy is ever present, my facemask is pulled quite tight as it is now trapped under the gun at my cheek, so Blood Lust reaches up with my right hand and pull it free, but there is also this weird sensation of cool water running across my left thigh (Yep, I was worried there for a second). It seems that my left elbow now under the full weight of the gun is sitting squarely on the bite valve of the camelbak, and bein' as how it is squeezed inside my tightly cinched vest, the reservoir seems intent on pumping itself dry. So, I raise up my elbow and Blood Lust shifts the freakin’ tube out of the way with my right hand. About that time, Ol’ Boss steps out from behind the tree, head held high and apparently he has decided to exit to the woods. Did I mention that back up gobbler is now just over the hill, still gobbling and still coming in like the hounds of hell are chasin' him?
“Blood Lust, remember, you tend to shoot high at longer distances with these new fangled fiber optic glow sights. Let him go! The other bird is coming in! LET HIM GO.” “F%&K IT, Magnum, I can take him! He’s THE BOSS and I can take him! Target acquired! Repeat. Target acquired!”
KABOOM!!!!!
Ol Boss deftly ducks his head back into his chest as that full load of copper plated No. 6’s fly just over him and he runs like hell for the woods, hastily bidding THE SPOT adieu. The back up gobbler likely wilted like a fresh leaf lettuce under boiling water and hauled freight for parts unknown, never to be heard from again (today at least).
Yep, I’m here to tell you moto-buds, it takes talent to educate two gobblers at once. Blood Lust and Magnum saved two gobbler’s lives today and perhaps so for the remainder of the season. One damn fun opening morning nonetheless!
Scab, I served, your volley.
