BAD BIRDS
Posted: March 3rd, 2018, 3:47 pm
every year about this time I like to read all of my favorite turkey oriented books. one of my favorites being a book called bad birds by jim spencer. it makes my think back through time about my own bad birds, some of which I eventually killed or let a friend kill. but most of which im still cussing to this day. one of the very baddest was a bird named tiny.
tiny lived on a very familiar part of the mountain where I started my turkey hunting obsession years before. a place where I had taken my first gobbler and have killed a truck bed full there since. he was the first bird I heard gobble that spring and gobbled his feathery butt off every time I would go listen. I was sure to kill him opening day and thought all my other scouting efforts were for my 2nd bird of the season.
opening morning I found myself right where I knew I was going to be a month prior. I didn't roost the bird the night before, didn't need too. he had been in the same tree every day for over a month and had flown down too the same flat where I killed my very first longbeard more mornings than not.
As the mornings first light graced me with its presence. birds started chirping, crows were cawing, and yep......right in the middle of it, tiny was gobbling his tiny azz off. you may be starting to wonder how tiny got his name. well, its pretty self explanatory. he was and probably always will be the smallest mature gobbler ive ever seen. I mean as small as a large hen with a pencil thin 9'' beard . but, from watching him through the Nikons. I knew he had one of the finest set of spurs ive seen on a mountain bird to this day. back to the hunt.
there was tiny......gobbling his throat sore 50 yds above the flat that he loved to strut in and there was me trying to decide what bird I was going to hunt the next day, sitting on the far side of the small flat. this was going to be a quick kill. it wasn't...
I know some of you call to roosted birds. im a percentage hunter and my calling strategy is based on my own percentages. being that calling to roosted birds has mostly been the same as a kick to the nuts, I don't do it......ever
tiny came off the roost kinda early that first of many mornings and landed on a ivy covered knob that was level with his roost. again, being a percentage hunter, I don't call unless I think there is a good chance ill kill the bird. he gobbled a few times from the knob then headed straight up through a massive laurel thicket that covers most every ridge around here. I left having never made a sound.
next morning, same exact story. he hit in the same place, gobbled a few times and headed straight up the side of the mountain. on the third morning, I found myself sitting on the knob he had flown down too the previous 2 mornings. but, for the first time, he had hens with him and all of them went straight away. I wont bore you with the events of the next 6 days.
the reason I kept hunting tiny was simple, the other birds weren't gobbling. back up to day 5 hunting tiny. the first gobble he let out brought on another gobble across the road 1/2 mile away. finally another turkey to hunt. I remember point up at his roost and saying a few choice words. across the road I went and 1 hour later I had a turkey on my back. my best turkey to date with over a foot of beard and a bonefide 1 5/8 set of hooks.
for the next couple weeks I would start out set up on tiny, eventually hear another turkey fire up and happily go after it. it wasn't long until I was out of tags in two states. where tiny roosted was no joke within 30 yards of the tn/nc state line.
then one night I get a phone call from a guy wanting to hunt with me. knowing the guy and how he hunted(cornpile hunter) I thought to myself im gonna teach you a lesson. we set up in a spot I knew the turkey wouldn't come too. sure enough he started gobbling from his normal roost and I remember thinking to myself im gonna make every mistake I possibly can.
I made flydown cackles on 3 different calls, beat my hat on my leg, yelped as loud as I could, coughed, I knew we didn't have a chance. of chorse, tiny shut up and I had a grin a mile wide. the smile didn't last long, when in disbelief, I heard the unmistakable sound of a turkey drumming.
I was saying the f word over and over under my breath when the guy says I see him hes 20 yds. I was thinking you limey f-er, you don't deserve this turkey. well, it didn't matter. the Mossberg gave the report and there lay tiny in a pile of feathers. the bird ended up weighing a little over 11 lbs with a set of 1 3/8 fishhook spurs. he ranks in the top 2 or 3 toughest birds ive ever hunted. but youll never convince mr cornpile of that.
tiny lived on a very familiar part of the mountain where I started my turkey hunting obsession years before. a place where I had taken my first gobbler and have killed a truck bed full there since. he was the first bird I heard gobble that spring and gobbled his feathery butt off every time I would go listen. I was sure to kill him opening day and thought all my other scouting efforts were for my 2nd bird of the season.
opening morning I found myself right where I knew I was going to be a month prior. I didn't roost the bird the night before, didn't need too. he had been in the same tree every day for over a month and had flown down too the same flat where I killed my very first longbeard more mornings than not.
As the mornings first light graced me with its presence. birds started chirping, crows were cawing, and yep......right in the middle of it, tiny was gobbling his tiny azz off. you may be starting to wonder how tiny got his name. well, its pretty self explanatory. he was and probably always will be the smallest mature gobbler ive ever seen. I mean as small as a large hen with a pencil thin 9'' beard . but, from watching him through the Nikons. I knew he had one of the finest set of spurs ive seen on a mountain bird to this day. back to the hunt.
there was tiny......gobbling his throat sore 50 yds above the flat that he loved to strut in and there was me trying to decide what bird I was going to hunt the next day, sitting on the far side of the small flat. this was going to be a quick kill. it wasn't...
I know some of you call to roosted birds. im a percentage hunter and my calling strategy is based on my own percentages. being that calling to roosted birds has mostly been the same as a kick to the nuts, I don't do it......ever
tiny came off the roost kinda early that first of many mornings and landed on a ivy covered knob that was level with his roost. again, being a percentage hunter, I don't call unless I think there is a good chance ill kill the bird. he gobbled a few times from the knob then headed straight up through a massive laurel thicket that covers most every ridge around here. I left having never made a sound.
next morning, same exact story. he hit in the same place, gobbled a few times and headed straight up the side of the mountain. on the third morning, I found myself sitting on the knob he had flown down too the previous 2 mornings. but, for the first time, he had hens with him and all of them went straight away. I wont bore you with the events of the next 6 days.
the reason I kept hunting tiny was simple, the other birds weren't gobbling. back up to day 5 hunting tiny. the first gobble he let out brought on another gobble across the road 1/2 mile away. finally another turkey to hunt. I remember point up at his roost and saying a few choice words. across the road I went and 1 hour later I had a turkey on my back. my best turkey to date with over a foot of beard and a bonefide 1 5/8 set of hooks.
for the next couple weeks I would start out set up on tiny, eventually hear another turkey fire up and happily go after it. it wasn't long until I was out of tags in two states. where tiny roosted was no joke within 30 yards of the tn/nc state line.
then one night I get a phone call from a guy wanting to hunt with me. knowing the guy and how he hunted(cornpile hunter) I thought to myself im gonna teach you a lesson. we set up in a spot I knew the turkey wouldn't come too. sure enough he started gobbling from his normal roost and I remember thinking to myself im gonna make every mistake I possibly can.
I made flydown cackles on 3 different calls, beat my hat on my leg, yelped as loud as I could, coughed, I knew we didn't have a chance. of chorse, tiny shut up and I had a grin a mile wide. the smile didn't last long, when in disbelief, I heard the unmistakable sound of a turkey drumming.
I was saying the f word over and over under my breath when the guy says I see him hes 20 yds. I was thinking you limey f-er, you don't deserve this turkey. well, it didn't matter. the Mossberg gave the report and there lay tiny in a pile of feathers. the bird ended up weighing a little over 11 lbs with a set of 1 3/8 fishhook spurs. he ranks in the top 2 or 3 toughest birds ive ever hunted. but youll never convince mr cornpile of that.