turkeymanwade
Member
- Joined
- Aug 8, 2025
- Messages
- 7
Y'all don't know me very well, so I should get some honest feedback. All I have so far is some very loosely connected chapters. Here is one of them.
Securing permission wasn't easy, this was county land, one of the well fields that supplied water to the residents. Having friends and associates in high and low places helped. As a 20 year volunteer instructor with the Wildlife Commission he was well known and liked by the local game wardens and one of his best friends was a technician with the water department.
That first season was very rocky, other hunters were not happy with the strings that were pulled to allow him access. This was prime turkey habitat, slightly rolling hills, mixed hardwoods and fields that only saw a mower every 2 years or so. Area hunters that he used to swap stories and or lies with had quit even talking to him. Official permission came through in early spring, just ahead of opening day, leaving little time for scouting. He did manage to call in a nice tom for the county manager's grandson, his first turkey harvest. Other than that the "spot" had been a disappointment.
Early scouting had been very good to him in the past so on this warm mid March morning he was up way before day. The plan was to listen for gobbles and then do some recon. Getting out to unlock the gate the hunter saw fresh tire tracks and the only reason for anyone to be there was to do the same thing he was doing, at least that's what he thought. Turkeys were gobbling all over that 100 acres, there was one roosted in the lone pine tree out in the middle of the grass. The hunter clipped a few limbs with his pruners to make access easier and located a few good set up spots. A successful scouting trip under his belt he planned to come back and check on "his" birds a few more times before the mid April opener.
The very next weekend our man was back. This time there was a blue mid 2000's Chevrolet pickup parked in the road just outside the gate. Putting on his CSI hat he determined that the tires on the Chevy were the same tread pattern from last week. Someone was planning to hunt there illegally. As it happened the wildlife officer assigned to that county was getting gas at the store not far away. The problem was the pickup was gone when they got back. "Could have been someone slipping out on their spouse." Was the assessment of the officer, "and they took off after you left." The very next day the hunter was back again intending to listen to the toms sound off. This time he turned off his headlights and eased up to the parking spot. There were 3 men about his size unloading some barrels, that seemed heavy, from the same pickup. Not knowing what they might be doing but still thinking they wanted to hunt there he decided to confront them. The hunter would soon wish it was already hunting season and he was toting his 3 1/2" 12 gauge.
The one who seemed to be the boss was a very white looking twenty something man with a thick Middle Eastern accent. "Hey, what the hell are y'all doing in my hunting spot." The 3 terrorists turned to face him. The 629 hanging below his chest rig had snake shot as the first 3 in the cylinder, but they didn't know that. Realizing these guys were there for something way more nefarious than poaching, he jerked the heavy revolver from its holster and thumb cocked the hammer. As blondie pulled something out of his coat the revolver barked. Stunned and confused that the shot hadn't hurt as much as it should have the ring leader raised his Glock and caught a load of number 7 1/2 shot in his right hand. The 357 fell to the ground. Still wondering just what he was being shot with he reached for the gun on the ground and was hit with bird shot a third time. The number 2 man lunged forward and just barely missed the 240 grain soft lead bullet as it passed. The slug struck one of the barrels and it exploded. The air was now full of a choking stench.
With purely voyeuristic intentions the warden had parked his state F-150 and was quietly walking down the shoulder of the gravel road when he heard what sounded like three muffled gunshots, one loud one and then the explosion. Now in a dead run with the Sig drawn he came on the scene. Three hoodlums and a camo clad gentleman holding a hogleg pistol, all coughing and gagging. After a second or two, he recognized the hunter and the two of them were able to secure the terrorists. The officer then called for backup and a hazmat team.
Coveted Spot
He had been coveting the spot for years. Ever since he saw the 4 longbeards fighting on the grassy lane. One of those birds sported an extra thick beard. The hunter had been wanting to bring home a multiple bearded tom ever since his first hunt. Was this the one? They say you shouldn't name a turkey, that that makes him harder to kill. The old turkey man named the old turkey "Paintbrush."
Securing permission wasn't easy, this was county land, one of the well fields that supplied water to the residents. Having friends and associates in high and low places helped. As a 20 year volunteer instructor with the Wildlife Commission he was well known and liked by the local game wardens and one of his best friends was a technician with the water department.
That first season was very rocky, other hunters were not happy with the strings that were pulled to allow him access. This was prime turkey habitat, slightly rolling hills, mixed hardwoods and fields that only saw a mower every 2 years or so. Area hunters that he used to swap stories and or lies with had quit even talking to him. Official permission came through in early spring, just ahead of opening day, leaving little time for scouting. He did manage to call in a nice tom for the county manager's grandson, his first turkey harvest. Other than that the "spot" had been a disappointment.
Early scouting had been very good to him in the past so on this warm mid March morning he was up way before day. The plan was to listen for gobbles and then do some recon. Getting out to unlock the gate the hunter saw fresh tire tracks and the only reason for anyone to be there was to do the same thing he was doing, at least that's what he thought. Turkeys were gobbling all over that 100 acres, there was one roosted in the lone pine tree out in the middle of the grass. The hunter clipped a few limbs with his pruners to make access easier and located a few good set up spots. A successful scouting trip under his belt he planned to come back and check on "his" birds a few more times before the mid April opener.
The very next weekend our man was back. This time there was a blue mid 2000's Chevrolet pickup parked in the road just outside the gate. Putting on his CSI hat he determined that the tires on the Chevy were the same tread pattern from last week. Someone was planning to hunt there illegally. As it happened the wildlife officer assigned to that county was getting gas at the store not far away. The problem was the pickup was gone when they got back. "Could have been someone slipping out on their spouse." Was the assessment of the officer, "and they took off after you left." The very next day the hunter was back again intending to listen to the toms sound off. This time he turned off his headlights and eased up to the parking spot. There were 3 men about his size unloading some barrels, that seemed heavy, from the same pickup. Not knowing what they might be doing but still thinking they wanted to hunt there he decided to confront them. The hunter would soon wish it was already hunting season and he was toting his 3 1/2" 12 gauge.
The one who seemed to be the boss was a very white looking twenty something man with a thick Middle Eastern accent. "Hey, what the hell are y'all doing in my hunting spot." The 3 terrorists turned to face him. The 629 hanging below his chest rig had snake shot as the first 3 in the cylinder, but they didn't know that. Realizing these guys were there for something way more nefarious than poaching, he jerked the heavy revolver from its holster and thumb cocked the hammer. As blondie pulled something out of his coat the revolver barked. Stunned and confused that the shot hadn't hurt as much as it should have the ring leader raised his Glock and caught a load of number 7 1/2 shot in his right hand. The 357 fell to the ground. Still wondering just what he was being shot with he reached for the gun on the ground and was hit with bird shot a third time. The number 2 man lunged forward and just barely missed the 240 grain soft lead bullet as it passed. The slug struck one of the barrels and it exploded. The air was now full of a choking stench.
With purely voyeuristic intentions the warden had parked his state F-150 and was quietly walking down the shoulder of the gravel road when he heard what sounded like three muffled gunshots, one loud one and then the explosion. Now in a dead run with the Sig drawn he came on the scene. Three hoodlums and a camo clad gentleman holding a hogleg pistol, all coughing and gagging. After a second or two, he recognized the hunter and the two of them were able to secure the terrorists. The officer then called for backup and a hazmat team.
