hawglips
Old Mossy Horns
This year I made another trip to Nebraska and then to Utah with my brother, which we haven’t done in a few years. I elected to buy two tags for Nebraska while my brother only got one. We only had Monday and the early morning on Tuesday to hunt in Nebraska because I was hoping to kill a Rio (for a single season slam) in Utah and my brother’s schedule would not allow him to hunt past Thursday. It was late in the breeding season for low altitude birds and not many places to go for a pure blooded Rio. So we expected the Utah Rio to be very iffy.
We did arrive in Nebraska in time the night before to try to roost something to give us a Headstart for the next morning. I roosted a coyote induced shock-gobbling Tom, so I knew exactly where I would start the first morning. In the meantime my brother found multiple birds roosted together close to our cabin, and was in great shape for Monday morning.
Walking back to the cabin in the dark (we forgot lights on this trip) we encountered what in the low light appeared to be some sort of bird in the prairie grass standing tall with light markings and apparently trying to scare us away from a nest or something. We tried to get as close as we could to see what it was, and then it started charging at us. We jumped back as we realized the “bird” was actually a skunk with tail up in full warning mode about to spray us. It was actually a very close call and we felt very fortunate not to get hammered by the threatening skunk.
The first morning arrived foggy and damp. I left the cabin at 4:00 and made the 1 mile walk in the dark to my pre-determined set up location and found a good spot to sit down. The tom began to gobble at about 4:45 and I waited as long as I could before I started calling. To make a long story short, he gobbled a lot but never showed any apparent interest in my calling, and flew down and went the other way. He only gobbled twice after he hit the ground and both of those were weaker than his tree gobbles. In the meantime I had been hearing a group of multiple birds in a different direction and after it became clear that my targeted bird would not come to me, I elected to get up and make my way towards the group of birds I had been hearing in the distance. I had seen a group of five Jakes the night before walking in that direction, so I figured they were likely the ones I’d been hearing gobbling. But it also sounded like there might have been an older bird in the group.
As I began to make my way towards the group I had been hearing, I came to the outside edge of the Ponderosa pines and I figured I better stop and look around carefully before proceeding any further, because I had been calling and there was an outside chance that the birds I’d been hearing in the distance would come my way. I stopped and pulled out my binoculars to glass the open Ridgetop and to my surprise it looked like one of those western movies where the Indians are lined up across the Ridgetop on their horses before the attack. Except, instead of being Indians on the ridge, they were Turkeys. And one of the turkeys had its head up looking right at me, about 150 yds out. I was at least 10 yards from the nearest tree and the grass was only about ankle to mid-calf height. I knew my only chance was for them to not get spooked, and so I had to try to somehow melt into the grass. (I had pulled this off in NC on opening day, so I figured I might be able to hide in the grass this time also.) So, I slowly got down and laid on my back in the wet grass as flat as I could, with my feet towards the turkeys and my gun slung across my right shoulder. After I have been laying there for a couple minutes I raised my head a little bit to evaluate the situation, and the birds were slowly but steadily picking along coming my way. Apparently the one looking at me earlier had no idea what was up. So every couple minutes after that I would pick my head up a little bit and look again, and each time they were still getting closer going in a direct line through me to where I had been calling from. Soon I counted 10 different turkeys. As they got closer I could tell that they were probably all either hens or Jakes. When they got to about 60 yards I could see red heads and little beards on every one of them. But I didn’t want to spook them so I laid still hoping they would turn one way or another before they got too much closer. But I also knew that sometimes you can be fooled about the age of a bird by looking at only beards, so I figured I had to twirl my gun around and point it in their direction by my feet, instead of the opposite way. So I very slowly twirled it around on my chest like a baton without picking it up, and as I did that the birds started to putt. So I begin to call to them for the first time with high pitched clucks and some soft yelps to calm them. As soon as I did that they immediately approached to about 15 yards to see what I was. I raised my head one more time to make sure there were no mature birds in the group and I noticed that one of them seemed to have an awfully big chest with a little beard poking out. So I looked carefully and noticed his head and neck was awfully thick, and then when he turned sideways I could see positively that his wing speculum was that of a mature bird’s!
So I immediately raised my gun up and got the butt nestled into my shoulder, and of course when I did that they all began putting loudly and walking away. I was still flat on my back but did the best I could to put the bead on the head and neck of the mature, short-bearded bird. However a Jake stayed right between us in the way for quite a while, and I had to wait till they walked out about ten yards further and eventually separated, then took the shot.
To my relief, my aim was on, and the bird was flopping in the wet prairie grass, while the others were running off. He had beard rot to account for the short beard, with a beautiful buff tipped fan and rump.
I took a few pictures and put the big bird in my vest to continue to hunt and scout for the rest of the morning. About an hour later I saw a group of five birds about a mile away on another prairie Ridgetop and decided I would walk that way to see if I could get any more action. It was hard to tell exactly where they were but when I arrived to the place I thought they were, I got a hen to yelp back to me but never I saw anything or heard any gobble.
In the meantime the Group of birds that my brother had hunted one the roost also flew down and walked away - so he never got a shot. We compared notes at lunchtime and came to believe that the five birds I had seen in the distance were probably the five birds he was set up on first thing.
We went back out in the afternoon, with my brother deciding to go to where I had last seen those five gobblers he set up on early in the morning, and I decided to go to the area where the bird I killed apparently have been roosting with those jakes. That area was a place where I had found birds roosting back in 2015, the last time I had hunted in Nebraska. I had also seen five jakes in that area close to roosting time the night before, so I figured I had decent chances to encounter some birds that afternoon.
After checking out the area a little bit, I decided to set up and call for the last three hours of the afternoon. I picked a high place somewhat hidden in young pines where I could see birds approaching from the Prairie, with the plan of calling sporadically.
I had been sitting there for almost the entire three hours, thinking I was going to have no action, when I saw four dark birds approaching. I got out my binoculars and saw that all four of them had swinging beards!
I didn’t dare call as long as they kept coming my way, which they did. Eventually, as they were coming into range, one of them saw me sitting there and let the world know he didn’t like it, with loud putting. And so I put a bead on the closest bird to me, pulled the trigger, and watched him flop. Two of the remaining birds flew off into the Pines, and the third tom had no idea what happened and ran right by me in the same direction on into the Pines.
We did arrive in Nebraska in time the night before to try to roost something to give us a Headstart for the next morning. I roosted a coyote induced shock-gobbling Tom, so I knew exactly where I would start the first morning. In the meantime my brother found multiple birds roosted together close to our cabin, and was in great shape for Monday morning.
Walking back to the cabin in the dark (we forgot lights on this trip) we encountered what in the low light appeared to be some sort of bird in the prairie grass standing tall with light markings and apparently trying to scare us away from a nest or something. We tried to get as close as we could to see what it was, and then it started charging at us. We jumped back as we realized the “bird” was actually a skunk with tail up in full warning mode about to spray us. It was actually a very close call and we felt very fortunate not to get hammered by the threatening skunk.
The first morning arrived foggy and damp. I left the cabin at 4:00 and made the 1 mile walk in the dark to my pre-determined set up location and found a good spot to sit down. The tom began to gobble at about 4:45 and I waited as long as I could before I started calling. To make a long story short, he gobbled a lot but never showed any apparent interest in my calling, and flew down and went the other way. He only gobbled twice after he hit the ground and both of those were weaker than his tree gobbles. In the meantime I had been hearing a group of multiple birds in a different direction and after it became clear that my targeted bird would not come to me, I elected to get up and make my way towards the group of birds I had been hearing in the distance. I had seen a group of five Jakes the night before walking in that direction, so I figured they were likely the ones I’d been hearing gobbling. But it also sounded like there might have been an older bird in the group.
As I began to make my way towards the group I had been hearing, I came to the outside edge of the Ponderosa pines and I figured I better stop and look around carefully before proceeding any further, because I had been calling and there was an outside chance that the birds I’d been hearing in the distance would come my way. I stopped and pulled out my binoculars to glass the open Ridgetop and to my surprise it looked like one of those western movies where the Indians are lined up across the Ridgetop on their horses before the attack. Except, instead of being Indians on the ridge, they were Turkeys. And one of the turkeys had its head up looking right at me, about 150 yds out. I was at least 10 yards from the nearest tree and the grass was only about ankle to mid-calf height. I knew my only chance was for them to not get spooked, and so I had to try to somehow melt into the grass. (I had pulled this off in NC on opening day, so I figured I might be able to hide in the grass this time also.) So, I slowly got down and laid on my back in the wet grass as flat as I could, with my feet towards the turkeys and my gun slung across my right shoulder. After I have been laying there for a couple minutes I raised my head a little bit to evaluate the situation, and the birds were slowly but steadily picking along coming my way. Apparently the one looking at me earlier had no idea what was up. So every couple minutes after that I would pick my head up a little bit and look again, and each time they were still getting closer going in a direct line through me to where I had been calling from. Soon I counted 10 different turkeys. As they got closer I could tell that they were probably all either hens or Jakes. When they got to about 60 yards I could see red heads and little beards on every one of them. But I didn’t want to spook them so I laid still hoping they would turn one way or another before they got too much closer. But I also knew that sometimes you can be fooled about the age of a bird by looking at only beards, so I figured I had to twirl my gun around and point it in their direction by my feet, instead of the opposite way. So I very slowly twirled it around on my chest like a baton without picking it up, and as I did that the birds started to putt. So I begin to call to them for the first time with high pitched clucks and some soft yelps to calm them. As soon as I did that they immediately approached to about 15 yards to see what I was. I raised my head one more time to make sure there were no mature birds in the group and I noticed that one of them seemed to have an awfully big chest with a little beard poking out. So I looked carefully and noticed his head and neck was awfully thick, and then when he turned sideways I could see positively that his wing speculum was that of a mature bird’s!
So I immediately raised my gun up and got the butt nestled into my shoulder, and of course when I did that they all began putting loudly and walking away. I was still flat on my back but did the best I could to put the bead on the head and neck of the mature, short-bearded bird. However a Jake stayed right between us in the way for quite a while, and I had to wait till they walked out about ten yards further and eventually separated, then took the shot.
To my relief, my aim was on, and the bird was flopping in the wet prairie grass, while the others were running off. He had beard rot to account for the short beard, with a beautiful buff tipped fan and rump.
I took a few pictures and put the big bird in my vest to continue to hunt and scout for the rest of the morning. About an hour later I saw a group of five birds about a mile away on another prairie Ridgetop and decided I would walk that way to see if I could get any more action. It was hard to tell exactly where they were but when I arrived to the place I thought they were, I got a hen to yelp back to me but never I saw anything or heard any gobble.
In the meantime the Group of birds that my brother had hunted one the roost also flew down and walked away - so he never got a shot. We compared notes at lunchtime and came to believe that the five birds I had seen in the distance were probably the five birds he was set up on first thing.
We went back out in the afternoon, with my brother deciding to go to where I had last seen those five gobblers he set up on early in the morning, and I decided to go to the area where the bird I killed apparently have been roosting with those jakes. That area was a place where I had found birds roosting back in 2015, the last time I had hunted in Nebraska. I had also seen five jakes in that area close to roosting time the night before, so I figured I had decent chances to encounter some birds that afternoon.
After checking out the area a little bit, I decided to set up and call for the last three hours of the afternoon. I picked a high place somewhat hidden in young pines where I could see birds approaching from the Prairie, with the plan of calling sporadically.
I had been sitting there for almost the entire three hours, thinking I was going to have no action, when I saw four dark birds approaching. I got out my binoculars and saw that all four of them had swinging beards!
I didn’t dare call as long as they kept coming my way, which they did. Eventually, as they were coming into range, one of them saw me sitting there and let the world know he didn’t like it, with loud putting. And so I put a bead on the closest bird to me, pulled the trigger, and watched him flop. Two of the remaining birds flew off into the Pines, and the third tom had no idea what happened and ran right by me in the same direction on into the Pines.
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