I might would limb launch one too where legal.

I heard someone say they make quite the noise when falling from 30 foot up.

last season.... got on a bird early that had 30+ hens with him just to watch him leave with his entorage. in the process another bird started gobbling good a long way off. figured what the heck, lets go get him. we realized after getting closer that he was across four lanes of traffic, but still answering every time we touched the call. 15 min later this bird decides he wants to cross the road. he pitched up and over hwy 231 barely missing getting hit by 1/2 second. he immediately hits the ground and starts strutting again. he works his way to about 35-40 yrds, i pull the trigger he hits the ground flopping. on my way to him he stands up, runs 50 yards, i pull the trigger again and he flies away never to be seen again... for the next two nights i cant sleep, keep replaying it over and over in my head thinking this has got to stop. we went back an had the same exact thing happen... he pitches up and over 4 lanes of traffic. this time i made sure there was no such thing as a body shot... 25 steps DIRT NAP. best 2 year old kill ever

Great stories guys, keep them coming!

Same here on the limb launching. Never done it, but I have a couple birds that if given the opportuninty I am reserving their seat to my first limb launch. Basterds.

Reminds me of the time I was deer hunting and going in before daylight, I walked under a roost in the pitch dark. For whatever reason every turkey in that tree spooked. I thought a chupacabra had gotten ahold of me. I stayed shook up for most of the morning.

I hope yall are ready for this...

About three years ago I was hunting with a buddy in TN on his dirt. The bird was hammering on the limb when we slipped in as close as we could to him on a road that led to the field his roost tree was located in. Just before the road entered the field it made a hard bend and that was the point that we had to sit down to avoid him seeing us. My buddy told me I was up to bat and he backed off several yards behind me on he road. We sat on the bird with his hens for about an hour and he moved off in the opposite direction so we decided to follow and wait for him to do his thing and be sitting on him when he got lonely. After a couple of hours of sitting, waiting, and calling our fat a$$es needed a samich and decided to call it a morning. On the way back to the truck my buddy told me he dropped his #1 mouth call where we sat up the first time that morning and he needed to try to find it. He showed me the tree he was sitting on and he started looking on one side and I looked on the other. I was on my hands and knees flipping leaves over and just asked him what color the tape was on the call. Just about the time he said it was white with a brown edge on it I noticed my fingers were about an inch away from a hot and fresh pile of sh*t which he deposited that morning. He was doubled over in the road laughing and I was a little hot under the collar.

I was trying to kill my first bird with a bow for our tv show that we had at the time. Everything went perfect, had him at 15 yards full strut . When he turned away from me, I drew and shot him. Well the shot was low and I clipped a leg. He ran off limping and stopped at about 45 yds, shot over him then. I thought "heck he's only got one leg I bet I can catch him" WRONG, I chased him for 200 yards down the field edge with my cameraman filming the entire thing (and he was laughing). I was pissed I had watched this bird for two weeks waiting on this hunt and I blew it. That was probably the one tv show that people asked me about the most

You still have that video?

Early 90"s I carried my brother in law hunting near on some private property in Jefferson County. We had no luck early and headed to the truck. As we neared the paved road I heard a bird gobble across the road on property we couldn't hunt. We eased up to where we could see the road and yelped to the bird. Back and forth we went till he finally walked out into the road. He stood on the centerline and strutted and gobbled. He wouldn't come any closer to us.

Finally a small red pickup came down the road. He'd have to move now. But NOOOO, he stood his ground and the truck stopped maybe fifteen FEET from the strutting gobbler.WTH???? The driver finally honked his horn, launching the bird a hundred yards straight up and over us. I think he landed on Yekruts land in Tennessee!!!!!!!!

You can bet that if he would have stood in the road on me I would have had to pay a $500 deductible to get my grill replaced on my truck, but I could save a Nitro.

I would have killed him

I've told this story on here before but since it's been a few years and we have so many new people, I will share it again.


Many years ago, my grandma had a small plot of land and she kept chickens, ducks, and a few tame turkeys in her yard. My buddy from the whipoorwhill story, is a good friend that grew up with me. So anyway, one year this wild turkey came up and started eating the scratch that my grandma would put out for the tame birds. After a while he didn't even pay any attention to my grandma and grandpa and would just strut around in the yard. He was a small turkey, and had about a 5 inch beard and what looked like 1/2 inch spurs. I was obsessed with turkey hunting back then and still green, so when I found out about this bird, I was more than interested. So one weekend I asked my dad if my buddy and I could go stay with my grandma for the weekend. He said it was ok, and we packed some clothes. Now this wild bird that was hanging around her house would roost in the old peach tree right at the edge of the woods. We hatched our master plan.... we were going to catch that sucker after dark. We played video games in the back room until it was well after dark. We put on our black clothes and snuck out the back door unbeknownst to my grandma. We went around the little house, slipped down the woodline and before you know it we were under the peach tree in some weeds. The turkey was about 8 feet off the ground on one of the lowest branches. The plan wasn't as well thought out because we didn't know who was going to grab the bird. He looked at me and said "On three" and started counting. When he said three both of us sprung up and crashed into each other. I had gotten high enough to get a piece of the bird. I grabbed a handful of feathers and he launched straight up. It turns out that I had him by the tail feathers, and I almost ripped every single one of them out when the bird got up to fly. I guess I interrupted his momentum when I tore his ass end out, and he started down. My buddy was just getting his balance back and was recovering from me crashing into him. The turkey came down right on his shoulders and down his back. One of it's spurs caught him at the base of the neck, and laid him open all the way to the small of his back. I jumped on the turkey when he hit the ground and the fight ensued. I got beat all to heck and lost almost all the skin on my elbow and knees. My friend jumped on the bird and our prize was subdued. We got up victorious and waltzed across the yard like a couple of big dogs. When we got to the porch my grandma was coming out the door after hearing all the commotion, and we waltzed up holding that poor turkey. Both of us were grinning like we really did something and my grandma looked at us with all the blood all over us. She said "Oh my....." and grabbed the turkey out of my hand and threw it off the porch and it took off running never to be seen again. She marched us in the bathroom and broke out the alcohol. Eric had to go get stitches and I had to be patched up. We both looked like we had been through a meat grinder.

I thought my dad was going to beat me to death but he said the turkey did a good enough job. Never did see that bird again.

For the first 4 years that I turkey hunted, I chased and educated a bird to the absolute highest degree possible. I shot a bird (my first) traveling with it, later shot at him on three different occasions, bumped him countless times, and in general just plain out made a monster of him. I was obsessed with him. Towards the end, the turkey eventually learned to stay off of my property altogether.

He always roosted near my property corner about 100 yards down a fence row in the same old oak tree. The fourth year, I got permission to hunt from one of the landowners that shared that old oak. The other landowner had a high fence with the worst habitat a turkey would want to be in. So it would be a slam dunk. I thought about just waiting on him at his roost tree, but erroneously decided to kill him with some dignity. Again he kicked my but the whole season. The following winter I sold my property to the owner of the high fence. As turkey season approached I wanted one last shot at that turkey.

I still had permission to hunt my neighbors place. Opening day comes and I'm heading across the pasture hoping he hasn't died of old age. As daylight cracks he starts gobbling right where he should be, in the old oak tree. I get close and confidently throw what I thought to be a much improved tree yelp his way. He gets quiet for a long time. My heart sinks. He starts gobbling again, and against my better judgement I call again. About twenty minutes goes by and to my amazement he gobbles in the high fence. There's nothing in there but thicket, roads and my turkey. I decided to come back that afternoon and do the unthinkable - shoot him from his roost tree.

I get to the tree without bumping any birds and feel pretty good about my chances. But my history with this bird has been Murphy's Law. I decided that no matter what, I wouldn't make even the softest cluck. With mixed emotions I sat there waiting feeling guilty thinking this bird deserves better than to die like this. Somehow, I fought off the urge to call. As the last few moments of daylight are fading he gobbles. I can't believe my ears. He's on my side of the fence coming to roost. I'm between him and his roost tree. It's finally going to happen. He continues gobbling as he makes his way across the pasture. Just before he tops the hill, I break down and pull out the old yelper. (insert buzzer sound). This freaking lunatic runs back to where he came from and roosts in a different tree for the first time in the 4.5 years I've known him. In a rage of fury, I make my way back to the truck dejected for the last time.

Two days later, I find myself back at his roost tree; still furious and no longer having any reservations about ambushing this turkey. I'm a little embarrassed to admit, but I actually climbed the tree (I don't really know why). Anyway, as darkness fell, I accepted defeat. I decided I would climb down in shame and not return. Just as I'm about to unload my gun, I hear a twig snap. Hear this poor bird comes. His head is as red as a beet, bobbing nervously back and forth and I realize that he's probably like this all day every day. This turkey is coming to roost scared to death. I shot him at about 10 yards and climbed down disappointed to find that he only had 1 1/4" spurs (I'd convinced myself he would be a state record).

To this day, I still have regrets about killing that bird that way. Nah, really I don't.

LOL Longspur, that's one of the best stories yet!

I can't imagine why you climbed the tree. Not only illegal, but it had to put you at a big disadvantage, cause a turkey will spot you in a second in a tree. But that story is great insight into how obsessed turkey hunters can become with a particular bird.

Glad I've never let one affect me that way.

HAHAHAH

You can bet I wouldn't have lost any sleep over it.

X2

I just typed a long story and then deleted it. I decided some things don't need to be told on a public forum.

Pm me, perhaps it was useful or had some turkey killing knowledge of the old master.

There was no useful information.