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First hunting experience and on camera!
By:
Staceyr
2009-11-06 21:26:31
My first hunting experience was with a bow, hunting for hogs in Texas. Because I work in the industry, I also had a camera man with me. I figured I was nervous enough about hunting, the film footage can always be edited to remove the parts of be looking crazy. The camera man was excellent, Brian Quaca from Triple Q outfitters in Groesbeck, TX.
It took my husband and I about 12 hours to get from Michigan to the ranch, but it was well worth it. I shot two hogs about 170 pounds each. Thought for sure each shot was a bit back, but they went about 35 and 60 yards each. The shots were great. It was a rush and I had a great time. I was shooting a Hoyt Rintec, Carbon Express Maxima Hunter arrows, a TruBall Copperhead release, and of course Blazer vanes and wraps. :) Lots of fun and you can all do this. You don't have to shoot 70 lbs, just practice and make a great shot.
I have had to take a couple years off because I am going to school and working full time, but I hope to get out bowfishing next summer and looking for whitetail next fall in Michigan and Kentucky.
Hunting Snows at the Kenmare Goosefest
By:
Tetta
2009-08-24 12:48:24
I'd arrived in Kenmare late on Thursday night. This year, we were going to be competing in the Kenmare Goosefest, and we were feeling the pressure. Not only was this the first time hunting the competition - and we were competitive and determined not to get skunked - but we were the first all-girls team to enter the goose shoot. We absolutely could NOT get skunked.
But others were feeling the pressure as well. I spoke to one of my teammates, Dani, who'd been up during the week to scout. There were hardly any geese in sight, and everyone was preparing for a tough shoot. This certainly wasn't ideal for a group of girls who were unfamiliar with the area, and relatively new to goose hunting. These thoughts ran through my head as I pulled up to Beer Bob's in Kenmare and shut my engine off. Then I heard it, and I smiled.
I could hear them clearly - hundreds, maybe thousands, of snow geese that had settled on the refuge for the night were honking loudly. It sent an electric shock through my body. The honking sent an air of anticipation over the small town, and it resonated even stronger inside the bar where teams were discussing their plans for the next morning.
"Yep, they started coming in the last few nights," my Uncle Jerry said. He would be taking me out the next day scouting the next day, but I was hardly prepared for what was to come.
We got up early Friday morning and started driving north. I'd never seen mass groups of snows migrating, but I searched the horizon for the "V" formation I was used to seeing with Canada geese. It wasn't until I pointed to the horizon at what appeared to be a thin string of smoke curling up into the air and asked Jerry, "Why're they doing a controlled burn now?!" that I realized I'd been looking for the wrong thing. Jerry accelerated. "That's not smoke! That's snow geese!" My eyes widened. There must've been thousands there. I felt the excitement from the night before well up again.
But we weren't the only ones. We were shortly joined by several other pickups all racing toward the cloud of geese that were now swirling above a field. Some were already circling the field like vultures. Not only that, but the land was posted. Chagrinned, we continued on.
The rest of the day continued about the same. Whereever we saw a large cloud of geese, we also saw they had plenty of company. We went back to town for the afternoon and I waited for another of my teammates, Cheryl, to join mefor the evening scout. When she came, we headed west to see what we could find there.
With a better idea of what we were looking for, I scanned the horizon, and Cheryl and I stopped occassionally to glass a field, finding only small gaggles. We stopped in Lignite and Cheryl visited with some friends in the area to find out what they'd seen. It wasn't looking good. It seems they hadn't come this far over, but we continued west toward Noonan. We were nearly to the edge the western hunting boundaries when I saw it again, and barely choked out Cheryl's name as I pointed. Again, on the horizon, hundreds of geese were swirling up like smoke from a fire, then coming immediately back down in the neighboring field. Another large gander was flying just a few more fields over. We drove closer, careful not to spook the already cautious geese. We found the landowner for the fields where the geese were landing to feed, and with our spirits, high, we went back to Kenmare.
We celebrated with our other teammates that night at the Calcutta, even brushing off remarks from one of the other teams that scoffed at the thought of an all-female team. If only he knew!
Cheryl and our other teammate, Mikey, stayed in Lignite that night and agreed to get up early to make sure we secured our spot. I woke up at 4 a.m. after hardly sleeping. I could hear geese outside and the cooing of nesting geese was already growing into loud honks. My face must've said it all as my aunt smiled at me. "Cool, huh?" was all she said.
Dani and I dressed and drove to the South of the Border to check in and pick up our checker. We were tired as we made the long drive to Lignite, and Dani was a little anxious, but I reassured her we wouldn't be skunked. As we pulled close to our hunting spot, Dani saw the refuge, nearly solid white with geese. Her anxiety vanished. "Oh! Tessa!" was all she said.
The sun slowly rose as we finished setting up our spread and settled under our cover. We could hear the geese grow louder. It was foggy, and the geese would be flying low. Even if they didn't land, there was a good chance we could pass shoot them. Suddenly, the refuge erupted with honking, and we watched the fog closely as the honking grew louder and louder. We made out a few white shapes through the fog as they flew over us.
Our excitement ebbed slightly, however, as we watched a white car pull up into the prairie trail between us and the refuge. They hundered down in the tall grass next to the fenceline, and stood up and fired as geese flew over, taking down several geese before the remainder of the flock flew higher to avoid the surprise. We realized quickly we wouldn't see any action and hurried to the fenceline, surprising the two hunters as we did. "Sorry!" they said. "We didn't see anyone there!" Looking back at our spread, it was concealed in fog. Since they weren't in the goose shoot, we asked if we could join them at the fenceline and they graciously accepted. "We were about done anyway," one said, motioning to a pile of geese. We thanked them several times before they drove off and we slid down into a ditch shrouded by tall grass to wait for the next group to fly over, again growing excited as we listened to the honks grow louder and louder until suddenly their white shapes were over us and our shotguns rang out. A few geese dropped as the steady honking grew panicked and they flew higher in a frenzy.
We stayed there for a few hours as group after group of geese flew off the refuge, and some, already done feeding, were coming back. Each time, they sent a thrill through each of us as we heard them approach, growing louder and louder and appearing through the fog. But they weren't the only ones coming toward us, and it was not long before were also joined by several other teams who'd given up their spreads to pass-shoot the geese as they flew over the fenceline.
Finally, the groups of geese were few and far between and with the feeding hours now over, we collected our seven geese we'd managed to hit and called our checker. After driving around to find any geese left out feeding we could sneak up on and some puddle jumping, we headed back to the weigh-ins with our geese. Although we had hoped to get so many more of the hundreds of geese that we'd seen on the refuge that morning, we were pleased we hadn't been skunked as so many other teams had. And we had another victory awaiting us when we got back: the team that had scoffed at an all-girls team the night before was among those who had come back empty-handed. We enjoyed a celebratory beer as we chatted about the hunt. Seven geese were not so bad after all. It was a strong showing by the first all-girls team at the Kenmare Goosefest.
By Tessa Sandstrom
But others were feeling the pressure as well. I spoke to one of my teammates, Dani, who'd been up during the week to scout. There were hardly any geese in sight, and everyone was preparing for a tough shoot. This certainly wasn't ideal for a group of girls who were unfamiliar with the area, and relatively new to goose hunting. These thoughts ran through my head as I pulled up to Beer Bob's in Kenmare and shut my engine off. Then I heard it, and I smiled.
I could hear them clearly - hundreds, maybe thousands, of snow geese that had settled on the refuge for the night were honking loudly. It sent an electric shock through my body. The honking sent an air of anticipation over the small town, and it resonated even stronger inside the bar where teams were discussing their plans for the next morning.
"Yep, they started coming in the last few nights," my Uncle Jerry said. He would be taking me out the next day scouting the next day, but I was hardly prepared for what was to come.
We got up early Friday morning and started driving north. I'd never seen mass groups of snows migrating, but I searched the horizon for the "V" formation I was used to seeing with Canada geese. It wasn't until I pointed to the horizon at what appeared to be a thin string of smoke curling up into the air and asked Jerry, "Why're they doing a controlled burn now?!" that I realized I'd been looking for the wrong thing. Jerry accelerated. "That's not smoke! That's snow geese!" My eyes widened. There must've been thousands there. I felt the excitement from the night before well up again.
But we weren't the only ones. We were shortly joined by several other pickups all racing toward the cloud of geese that were now swirling above a field. Some were already circling the field like vultures. Not only that, but the land was posted. Chagrinned, we continued on.
The rest of the day continued about the same. Whereever we saw a large cloud of geese, we also saw they had plenty of company. We went back to town for the afternoon and I waited for another of my teammates, Cheryl, to join mefor the evening scout. When she came, we headed west to see what we could find there.
With a better idea of what we were looking for, I scanned the horizon, and Cheryl and I stopped occassionally to glass a field, finding only small gaggles. We stopped in Lignite and Cheryl visited with some friends in the area to find out what they'd seen. It wasn't looking good. It seems they hadn't come this far over, but we continued west toward Noonan. We were nearly to the edge the western hunting boundaries when I saw it again, and barely choked out Cheryl's name as I pointed. Again, on the horizon, hundreds of geese were swirling up like smoke from a fire, then coming immediately back down in the neighboring field. Another large gander was flying just a few more fields over. We drove closer, careful not to spook the already cautious geese. We found the landowner for the fields where the geese were landing to feed, and with our spirits, high, we went back to Kenmare.
We celebrated with our other teammates that night at the Calcutta, even brushing off remarks from one of the other teams that scoffed at the thought of an all-female team. If only he knew!
Cheryl and our other teammate, Mikey, stayed in Lignite that night and agreed to get up early to make sure we secured our spot. I woke up at 4 a.m. after hardly sleeping. I could hear geese outside and the cooing of nesting geese was already growing into loud honks. My face must've said it all as my aunt smiled at me. "Cool, huh?" was all she said.
Dani and I dressed and drove to the South of the Border to check in and pick up our checker. We were tired as we made the long drive to Lignite, and Dani was a little anxious, but I reassured her we wouldn't be skunked. As we pulled close to our hunting spot, Dani saw the refuge, nearly solid white with geese. Her anxiety vanished. "Oh! Tessa!" was all she said.
The sun slowly rose as we finished setting up our spread and settled under our cover. We could hear the geese grow louder. It was foggy, and the geese would be flying low. Even if they didn't land, there was a good chance we could pass shoot them. Suddenly, the refuge erupted with honking, and we watched the fog closely as the honking grew louder and louder. We made out a few white shapes through the fog as they flew over us.
Our excitement ebbed slightly, however, as we watched a white car pull up into the prairie trail between us and the refuge. They hundered down in the tall grass next to the fenceline, and stood up and fired as geese flew over, taking down several geese before the remainder of the flock flew higher to avoid the surprise. We realized quickly we wouldn't see any action and hurried to the fenceline, surprising the two hunters as we did. "Sorry!" they said. "We didn't see anyone there!" Looking back at our spread, it was concealed in fog. Since they weren't in the goose shoot, we asked if we could join them at the fenceline and they graciously accepted. "We were about done anyway," one said, motioning to a pile of geese. We thanked them several times before they drove off and we slid down into a ditch shrouded by tall grass to wait for the next group to fly over, again growing excited as we listened to the honks grow louder and louder until suddenly their white shapes were over us and our shotguns rang out. A few geese dropped as the steady honking grew panicked and they flew higher in a frenzy.
We stayed there for a few hours as group after group of geese flew off the refuge, and some, already done feeding, were coming back. Each time, they sent a thrill through each of us as we heard them approach, growing louder and louder and appearing through the fog. But they weren't the only ones coming toward us, and it was not long before were also joined by several other teams who'd given up their spreads to pass-shoot the geese as they flew over the fenceline.
Finally, the groups of geese were few and far between and with the feeding hours now over, we collected our seven geese we'd managed to hit and called our checker. After driving around to find any geese left out feeding we could sneak up on and some puddle jumping, we headed back to the weigh-ins with our geese. Although we had hoped to get so many more of the hundreds of geese that we'd seen on the refuge that morning, we were pleased we hadn't been skunked as so many other teams had. And we had another victory awaiting us when we got back: the team that had scoffed at an all-girls team the night before was among those who had come back empty-handed. We enjoyed a celebratory beer as we chatted about the hunt. Seven geese were not so bad after all. It was a strong showing by the first all-girls team at the Kenmare Goosefest.
By Tessa Sandstrom
The Buck of Circumstance
By:
Tetta
2009-08-24 12:53:57
The Buck of Circumstance
Hunting has always been a tradition in my family, but it was one I came into much later than other members of my family. My decision to hunt was a result of many things: Tim pushing me to hunt so I could truly experience nature and the outdoors; my own drive to become self-reliant and see what I was capable of; and most of all, my desire to share a family tradition and follow in the footsteps of the strong women in my family who were known to be excellent marksmen much like my great-grandfather. There are several other reasons, but it was these that were fulfilled in my first—and quite possibly greatest—hunt.
My first day of the hunt was uneventful. We walked the badlands the rest of the day, but blowing snow and harsh winds drove the deer deep into the coulees. It was a challenge chasing up even a few does. I wasn’t expecting to shoot my buck that first day, but I had at least hoped to find a good buck to hunt. We drove to our motel in Beach, ND, tired and a little disappointed.
We were reluctant to stay in Beach since it was a longer drive to the badlands. We would find out the next morning, however, that it was a blessing in disguise; if we would have stayed anywhere but Beach or decided to camp, we’d have never seen my buck. This would be the first in a chain of events that would lead me to my buck of circumstance.
The next morning was calm and clear, a stark contrast to the day before. We decided to go back where we’d left off, near where Tim had found his trophy the weekend before. Those plans changed as we moved north glassing adjacent fields. Among the does stood three large bucks: two large four-by-fours and one clean five-by-five. Any one of those, said Tim and Dad, would make a superb first year buck. We sat, waiting for them to bed.
It was turning out perfectly. The deer were moving toward school trust land open to the public, and the terrain was more suitable for the warmer temperatures expected than the sloppy clay buttes we’d trudged up and down the day before. Those plans, however, came to an abrupt halt when two pickups of overbearing hunters took claim to the same deer. The deer spooked, retreating onto private land. We left, albeit, reluctantly, and cursed our misfortune. In just moments, however, we would be thankful for those hunters’ interference.
Dad and I saw them nearly at the same time as we crested the next hill. In the distance, several does and one noticeably large buck ambled down a coulee. Dad laughed excitedly as he looked through his binoculars. “That’s a big buck!” He turned to me, already whispering, “Tessa, that’s a shooter!”
He was indeed a shooter. The mass and girth of his antlers was visible to the naked eye even from several hundred yards out. A closer look in the spotting scope revealed eight points, browtines and palmated forks on each side giving him character I rarely saw in a mule deer.
But before we could claim him, we’d need access. Luckily for us, he was on land Dad had permission to hunt antelope just one month before. The landowner remembered us and finally, at 8:30 a.m., the hunt was on.
We watched the deer, hoping they’d bed down, but the rut made them restless. We decided Dad and I would slide along the coulee and wait for them to come to us. We were wrong. Just as we’d reached the bottom, they bedded down. We were forced to try another approach.
Next, we approached a small knoll looking as though it would put us right on top of the buck. As we crawled, we found the terrain actually afforded little cover forcing us to drop to our bellies to sneak closer. Still, it was not close enough. We couldn’t spot even a single doe and an occasional glimpse of a single antler was our only confirmation that the deer were still there. We laid there for several minutes weighing our options: we risked spooking the hidden does if we moved closer, but it was still a few hours before they would begin their evening transition. We decided to try yet another approach. This time we would go to the ridge on the other side of the coulee and hope for a better vantage point there. We crawled back out and started the long trek around the coulee and two hills while remaining out of sight.
Finally at the top, we crawled toward distant sage brush to glass the coulee, but again, no view of the big buck. Tim doubled back for another angle while Dad and I waited. Tim signaled. The buck was there.
In preparation, Dad and I adjusted a bipod on my rifle. Tim was about to crawl back and wait with us when he motioned me forward. My heart gave a jump. They had already begun to move.
I crawled forward and began to set up. The buck was only about 150 yards away, headed for a nearby clearing. I struggled to get my bipod and rifle level, and my scope ready before he entered the clearing, but, instead he veered south toward the does, remaining in the trees. “Of course!” I thought. “He’ll follow the does and trees will obstruct a clean shot!”
But instead he turned away, seemingly disinterested in the does and headed for another clearing. Once again, I scrambled to get set up. The buck was moving quickly and only paused briefly when Tim and Dad struck his curiosity. Before I could get set, he was already behind another bush. I readjusted for the next clearing, sensing frustration—even panic—as the buck stared back at his does. I pleaded with him to keep coming, and finally, he did.
The buck moved too quickly for me to follow him steadily with the bipod, and sensing my frustration, Tim and Dad yelled again to make him stop. He paused. I aimed, breathing deeply toregain my composure. He took a few more steps. Do it…now! rushed through my mind. The rifle kicked, the deer lunged, and a sigh of relief escaped my lips. I sat shaking from the adrenaline.
“You just got one big buck, Tessa!” yelled Dad and Tim between excited laughs, and I became aware again of everything else around me. For a few split seconds, it seemed as though it was just me, the rifle and the deer. With a slap on the back I was brought back into full consciousness.
“Yep, you just got one big buck!”
***
I’ve been told that my first buck will likely be my biggest. That’s probably true. They ask, “Now what are you going to do?”
I never expected to shoot a buck of this stature, and though I realize most hunts may never give me that again, they will always present new challenges and, more important, new memories to share with my family and friends. So what am I going to do?
The answer is pretty simple: Hunt.
By Tessa Sandstrom
By Tessa Sandstrom
My most memorable hunt
By:
Brooke J
2009-08-18 10:48:09
A few years ago when I was in high school, I got drawn for my first ever buck tag. After hunting all weekend of the opener, and seeing little to nothing worth shooting, I was apprehensive on filling my tag before returning to school. On the last walk on the last day of the opening weekend, my dad and I were posting at the end our pasture, while the rest of the party walked towards us (to the north) – hoping to kick up a buck and send him our way and give me an opportunity to shoot.
As we squatted behind a couple trees for what seemed like hours, and saw nothing, we decided to give up for the night. Most of the party had nearly reached the end of the pasture, and we came to the conclusion that nothing was going to be “coming our way.” So we started to walk back to the pickup.
I started walking back in disappointment, and I turned around to take one last glance in hopes that something big would be pushed out the pasture. As I turned around, I stopped dead in my tracks at the sight of two huge bucks that were walking INTO the pasture from the other direction (from the north, walking south)! They were only about 100 yards away. We hadn’t been watching that direction because we were expecting something to come from the other way! I whispered, “Dad, look!” As I pulled up my rifle, and aimed the larger of the two, my dad said, “Take the one on the left, and I’ll take the one on the right – I’ll wait until you shoot.” I bet I stood there trying to hold my gun steady for a solid 30 seconds – while the two bucks just stared back at us. I knew that they weren’t going to stand there all day, and I was fortunate that they hadn’t spooked at the sight of us already, so I slowly squeezed the trigger. A split second later I heard my dad fire his as well. Both bucks took off running and I thought, “Damn, I missed! How in the world did I miss?” As I ran after the monster in frustration, I watched him run about 50 yards and then topple over and come crashing to the ground. (The other buck that my dad had shot kept running further, and he finally brought it down with another shot.)
As I approached my deer, I realized just how big it was and instantly began jumping up and down – my first buck! It still amazes me that they were walking into the pasture; the opposite of what we were trying to do in the first place! It was definitely my most memorable hunting experience.
My Most Memorable Hunt
By:
betty brown
2009-08-17 20:31:33
We usually go to our lease on Friday night and hunt the weekend. On this Friday in November, 2009, I drove up early by myself so I could get in a Friday evening hunt. The rule on our lease is that we can hunt anyone's stand if their stand is empty. I had planned on hunting a particular stand but the owner of that stand came in so I had to change plans. My stand was quite a distance away, so I picked another and got in the stand about 3:30. It was a cold, cloudy, but, very windy evening. I had just about given up for the evening when I saw a shadow of what looked like a big bodied deer. I put my scope on him and sure enough it was a buck. It was getting dark, but I could make out what appeared to be a nice rack. He was moving very slowly but he came around to the front of the feeder pen and I took the shot. He ran about 10 feet and he was down. I got out of the stand, walked down to where he had gone down and saw that he was, indeed, a nice eight point. I pulled up his head to get a better look and noticed that his ears were notched from fighting. We had gotten pictures of this buck on our trail cam earlier in the season. As a matter of fact, my husband had gotten a shot at this buck during bow season and thought he had missed it. As I looked my deer over, I noticed a cut on his back where his arrow had scraped his back: I had killed my husband's deer! As I drove back to camp, I ran into the man whose stand I was hunting in; he asked me if I had seen anything. I told him I had shot a big 8 out of his stand. He replied, "Well, that's just great." And then he drove off and left me! As I continued back to camp, my husband arrived and I told him that I had gotten the deer that he had missed. I can't tell you what he said and he drove off and left me! They both came back eventually and helped me with my deer. I have him shoulder mounted in my living room as a reminder of the day I got a great buck and made two men so mad they could hardly speak!
My 1st Mule Buck
By:
OFH Staff Melissa
2009-08-01 19:24:37
Here is an example!
We were out hunting all weekend in the Badlands and finally on Sunday afternoon, we came across a small group of Muleys way off in the distance. My husband decided we needed to venture out a little farther to get a look at them. As we walked out towards them, it started to snow quite a bit and I was starting to feel anxious, worrying that I wasn't going to get out there and be able to get a good shot. As we were coming up to the hill, we realized they were out farther than we had thought. We ended up walking just about a mile from the road and around an old farm yard, but I was determined to get out there and try my best to get my tag filled. We came to the edge of the hill; I got down and watched them through the scope. In the herd was one buck with about a dozen does. I was about 375 yards away and the option of getting any closer wasn't possible. To give me a good shot, my husband got on his hands and knees and I used his back to brace myself. (Because of this he bought me shooting sticks for Christmas!) The first shot hit him and it was a double lung shot, he went about 20 yards and expired. I was so excited to get out there and see how he looked, I started to just about roll down the hill with excitement towards my buck. This being my firt Mule Deer Buck, I was pleasantly surprised to find him to be a 5x4 with a 2 inch droptine.
We were out hunting all weekend in the Badlands and finally on Sunday afternoon, we came across a small group of Muleys way off in the distance. My husband decided we needed to venture out a little farther to get a look at them. As we walked out towards them, it started to snow quite a bit and I was starting to feel anxious, worrying that I wasn't going to get out there and be able to get a good shot. As we were coming up to the hill, we realized they were out farther than we had thought. We ended up walking just about a mile from the road and around an old farm yard, but I was determined to get out there and try my best to get my tag filled. We came to the edge of the hill; I got down and watched them through the scope. In the herd was one buck with about a dozen does. I was about 375 yards away and the option of getting any closer wasn't possible. To give me a good shot, my husband got on his hands and knees and I used his back to brace myself. (Because of this he bought me shooting sticks for Christmas!) The first shot hit him and it was a double lung shot, he went about 20 yards and expired. I was so excited to get out there and see how he looked, I started to just about roll down the hill with excitement towards my buck. This being my firt Mule Deer Buck, I was pleasantly surprised to find him to be a 5x4 with a 2 inch droptine.
THE PLAN
By:
NBTWEEN
2009-07-31 12:13:06
March 2009 was to be the season, 'The Plan' went into play.
This so-called plan was created, because Jim, my husband and Keith, our friend, had both shot their turkey the previous year, and I had not. (Heck, I didn't even get to aim at one" So, being the gentlemen they are, they decided that they would get me on a turkey, have me take it, then they would go hunting. The first morning, Jim shoots twice at a tom and misses, Keith comes over and asked me if I took those shots, I told him, “No, Jim did”. Keith says that we had an agreement, shakes his head and walks away. An hour or so later, Keith takes 2 shots, so Jim and I go running over there, Keith got a turkey. (He shot at 2, but got one).
This so-called plan was created, because Jim, my husband and Keith, our friend, had both shot their turkey the previous year, and I had not. (Heck, I didn't even get to aim at one" So, being the gentlemen they are, they decided that they would get me on a turkey, have me take it, then they would go hunting. The first morning, Jim shoots twice at a tom and misses, Keith comes over and asked me if I took those shots, I told him, “No, Jim did”. Keith says that we had an agreement, shakes his head and walks away. An hour or so later, Keith takes 2 shots, so Jim and I go running over there, Keith got a turkey. (He shot at 2, but got one).
So there I was disappointed, again, but not showing it. This season was supposed to be all about me.
Anyhow, Jim and I set up in a blind we had last year. Jim is perched above me on a stump. Constantly moving, and talking. I tell him to stop, He tells me 'don't tell me what to do, which angered me. (I just wanted to get my turkey,) I tell Jim, don't talk to me like that, I'm just gonna stand up, then, we heard a gobble. Jim calls it in, it's a huge bird. I sit there and watch as the big ol' Tom walk around, without a care. Gun poised, I take it off safety. The Tom is about 40 yards in front of us, when he hops over a stump and stops right in front of a old fence post. Jim is whispering to me shoot him, and I tell him I can't get a good shot off, he says again, 'shoot him'. I take aim, hoping I didn't miss, and BANG!!! He falls, flops on the ground, he stands up and Jim runs over, (NEVER had I seen Jim run full bore), and cuts his throat. He stands up bird in hand and shouts over to me,'HOW DOES IT FEEL TO HAVE YOUR FIRST TURKEY!?”, I shouted,something back, but I was just so excited, I was thanking God and running towards Jim.
Jim took some pictures, and we headed back to camp.
My Tom weighed 28lbs. And had a 11 inch beard.!!!!
Biggest bird anyone in camp had ever seen
Yea Me!
P.S
Keith and I got drawn for Elk this year, so I've been practicing with my bow. Unfortunately, Jim did not.
