June 2010

Roger Kingsley and son-in law Jason

In honor of the close of an awesome turkey season here at Big Woods Bucks, I decided to feature a story of 2 Pennsylvania residents who have hunted at Cedar Ridge several times and had a great turkey hunt to share with all. Roger Kinsley and his son-in-law Jason have a great story about a turkey hunt that was not text book but worked because they were patient, had done their homework and had the persistence to get the job done.  Roger and Jason are no strangers to hunting. Between the 2 of them they have about 60 years of hunting experience. They love to deer hunt, turkey hunt, varmint hunt and goose hunt and they shoot as often as possible. After getting to know  them, I have a sense they share in the same camaraderie most of us are privileged to experience while enjoying the activities the outdoors have to offer. Hunting is much more than just the killing of an animal. The BWB team shares in my sentiment that 50% of the hunt is camp life and the memories that develop from our outdoor experiences. Strong bonds and loyalty develop amongst family and friends. The family unit is a worthwhile investment of your time and effort. From my personal perspective, I am doing my best to introduce my son, at an early age, to the many advantages hunting and fishing allows us to experience. I have seen my wife’s curiosity build about hunting and fishing since my son has been born. So much so that she passed her hunter’s safety course a few weeks ago with a 98. My curiosity as to the root cause of her new found interest in hunting has led me to believe she sees my son and I spending quality time in the woods walking down game trails discovering the many forms of clues the animals leave or sharing an early morning breakfast I have cooked for us on the Coleman stove while waiting to set the hook on the next fish we catch. My curiosity as to the root cause of her new found interests has led me to also realize she has been listening to the memories we are creating and the camaraderie we share and wants to share in all of it. I am excited to share the rest of my hunting and fishing career with the 2 most important people in my life. Being as close to Hal and his family for as long as I have has given me a great example to model my efforts after. Hal’s wife and son are avid sportspeople and have enjoyed many years of fun and created memories together that will last a lifetime. I am sure many of you can relate or have shared in the making of some of those lifetime memories with family and friends while enjoying the outdoors. I am proud to say I am an avid sportsman and will declare I feel sorry for those who choose not to experience what nature has to offer and take advantage of all the benefits that go along with it.

 The Plot of a Spring Turkey Double
      by Roger Kingsley 

 

     During the daybreak hours of May 12, 2010, my son-in-law Jason and I focused our turkey hunting efforts to a piece of woods on the southern part of our farm that had not had any pressure all season.   Surprisingly, we did not hear any gobblers sounding off in that area.  Turkeys are like that...so I've heard.  Their moods change for various reasons...often with the weather. The dark skies that day weren't helping matters and threatened to rain at any moment.  Experienced hunters are accustomed to turkeys changing moods.  The only vocal birds we heard were roosted on the neighbor’s property, so we departed that area and headed for home.  Back at the barn, Jason and I grabbed a couple of plastic pails out of the shed and were just about to sit down to listen for distant gobbles when we heard one cut loose on the far side of the fields adjacent to us.  I shimmied up the silo and spotted 4 strutting long beards trailing behind several hens. Their pace appeared deliberate.   From weeks of observations, I was certain that their destination would funnel them through a pinch point between a stream bank and the corner of a pasture.       
     Without hesitation, Jason and I quickly drove to the north end of some corn and hay strips about 1/3 of a mile away, descended into a ravine, and hurried to our ambush point.  We didn't talk about the weather...we didn't talk about women...we didn't talk about guns, Ford trucks, gas wells or a western hunt.  Nothing but turkeys were on our minds.  There were hens and gobblers all heading into our laps if we could pull it off.   Man, the excitement was borderline overpowering!  Slipping down the ravine's creek bottom like snipers, we rehearsed our plan of attack.  
     If two bearded birds came into range, Jason would take the one on the right, I'd take out the left one.  But if they were single file, I'd take the lead bird, and Jason would aim for the follower.  I'd be the designated counter, and we would shoot on 3.  Remember...on 3!!  Not until!  
     At the end of the ravine we visually and vocally located the birds, heard a gobble and then carefully crept into position at the base of a big ash tree.  The sizeable trunk would break up our outline perfectly.  Sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, our shotguns were readied, facemasks were adjusted, legs were folded toward our chests for elbow support, and our hearts pounded like they were pumping molasses....man they pounded!   The overcast skies and light drizzle added even more security to our deadly ambush position in the rain-soaked woods, which intensified the excitement.  We rehearsed our plan once again.  If we were both going to end our season today, there could be no mistakes.  The light rain rendered my slate call useless, but Jason--besides his boxcall--had a Quaker Boy tucked into the roof of his mouth, and his tongue was no stranger to the delicate imitating device.  Time passed.  We waited, Jason called.  We waited, Jason called...nothing.  Just like that the birds had hushed.  More time passed.  Had they seen us?  Did they leave?  I turned to Jason and sensed concern in his eyes.  He saw it in mine. 
     More time passed.  The lengthy silence from the birds became unbearable.  Visually locating their whereabouts called for shuffling our position. At this stage of the game, that's a no-no or an unwritten rule of turkey hunting, but we both agreed to break it.  I volunteered.  Inching up, I immediately saw birds bearing down on us.  Uh-oh!  I quickly hunkered down and seconds later a hen sauntered into view skirting our right side.  She was feeding, but looking!  Oh...the rush began.  I could hear Jason breathing, he felt mine.  With soft whispers we rehearsed.  On 3 if they show!  They did.
     Two of the four gobblers we'd seen earlier suddenly broke cover out in front of us.  We both gasped at the sight of the broom-like beards swinging to and fro from each breast.   Camouflaged gun barrels slowly shifted towards the targets, grips tightened, beating hearts kicked into overdrive.  Leveling our beads, I whispered to Jason, you on em? Yup, are you?  No!  Mine's behind a tree!  SHH!  Now are you? Yup!  You on the right one?  Whoops, I'm on the left one!  Now I am!  You ready?  Yup!  OK..1..... Wait a minute, I'm supposed to count!  Whoops!  SHH!  OK I'm on the right one!  You?  Yup!   OK here goes....1......2......BANGBANG!!!  
     Jason's 12 gauge Benelli thundered just slightly ahead of my 20 gauge pump.  Birds scattered...except for 2 long beards pelted with shot 28 yards away.  We rushed to the birds high-fiveing, hooting, hollering, and dancing around like rock stars with lice.  What an episode!  What a hunt! 
     The measurements for our trophy birds were:
- Jason's - 18.2 lbs.,  9 3/4" beard,  1" spurs.
- Mine - 20.0 lbs.,  11" beard,  1 1/8" spurs.
     This hunt brought to a close my 3rd year of hunting spring gobblers.  I've learned plenty about these popular game birds thanks to my son-in-law Jason and some special friends.  I've also made mistakes that cost me a filled tag, but all hunters make them and besides, that works both ways, turkeys make mistakes too!
     Looking back got me to thinking....  The more I participate in this season called spring gobbler, the more I'm convinced that pursuing them in the years ahead, is going to be leaving some intelligible memories in what remains of my hunting life.