Live for the season...

NUMBER 1!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I really hope some of you have enjoyed reading about my "top 10" hunts.  I knew when I began that it would be neat to re-tell some of these stories, but I have really been surprised at just how much I have enjoyed it.  Like I often tell my buddy Craig, the memories are the best part of the hunt.  When we get too old to run up and down ridges chasing gobblers, or too frail to climb up in a treestand to wait on an old buck, the memories of past hunts are all that we'll have.  That's the thing with my mounts, it's not that I'm on a quest to cover every square inch of space with a deer head (although my lovely wife would probably disagree), it's about the memories that come back when I look at a particular animal on the wall.  Memories of the entire hunt - either alone of shared with friends.

Alright, can we get a drum-roll please.......................................................... 

Number 1 - Dec. 8, 2006.  My muzzleloader "dream buck"!  Ok, I know - big surprise - this was a no brainer.  When I came up with the idea for the "top 10" post, and jotted down some of my best hunts to try to arrange 1 thru 10, this was the first one I wrote down.  I am almost certain that I will never take an animal of which I am more proud, or have a hunt that excited me more.  My apologies to anyone who read my anniversary post about this hunt back in December - hope you aren't bored reading it again.

The entire week of the late muzzleloader season was unseasonably cold, with Friday the 8th being the coldest day of the week.  If memory serves me, we hit the high temp of mid-30's around noon that day, with temps falling steadily throughout the afternoon.  It had already fallen to right around freezing by the time I got to the farm at 2:30, and was continuing to drop.  I was hunting the shooting house overlooking a "Buck Forage Oats" food plot on our lease at the Grove.  I was a little later than I would have liked due to work, but I did manage to make it to the shooting house without spooking anything.  I had a group of does come out to feed in the plot very soon after I got settled in.  Then, about 3:45, I was watching a 6 pt feed directly in front of me when Rick sent me a text message that said something like "just saw him!" 

Rick was hunting a draw to the North / West of me and about 150 yards down below the food plot.   I don't remember his response when I replied "Big?", but it must have been an affirmative because I do remember opening the window & starting to pay more attention to that end of the shooting house.   It must have been about 15 minutes later when I noticed a deer skirting the West edge of the plot.  Through my naked eye, I could only make out the back half of the body.  For some reason, it looked really small - I remember thinking probably a yearling.  Then, I put the binocs on it & JUST ABOUT DROPPED THEM!  Even though I was only looking at half the rack, it was the most outrageous thing I had ever seen in the woods!  Points everywhere + it seemed 2 ft wide!  Needless to say, it was all I could do to contain my heart in my chest!  I slipped into a combination of buck fever / got-to-kill him mode.  And of course, in all my excitement, I forgot all about the 6 pt in front of me.  So, when I throw open the front window of the shooting house to get ready for the mammoth in the woods to step out, the 6 pt just happens to be looking directly at me & immediately goes on point.

The big deer was standing directly behind a brush pile just outside of the barbed-wire fence that surrounds this plot.  All I could see was rack as he stood watching the 6 pt watch me.  This is where I switch to panic mode.  I am sitting there, as still as humanly possible (when your heart is beating upwards of 200 b.p.m.) and mentally kicking myself for alerting the 6.  This is where it gets good...  Call it luck, coincidence, or divine intervention, believe it or not, Rick picks this moment to take a shot at another deer.  Keep in mind - he's only 150 yards from me.So, at the sound of the shot, the 6 blows out of the plot and the MONSTER busts out of the woods, runs across the corner of the plot, and slows as he goes through the fence on the other side.  Let me tell you, this is the first time I had seen him in the open - to a Tennessee boy, a deer this big does not look natural running through the woods!

As he slowed just a bit to clear the fence, I got the Savage on him.  He was slightly quartering, but almost running directly away.  My shot hit him high in the back, just in front of his right hip, and angled up into the vitals.  He DROPPED in his tracks and never even flinched!  By this time, I'm so nervous I probably couldn't have told you my own name.  All I really remember after the shot is taking one last look through the binocs & saying to myself "Oh my God, HE"S HUGE!".  I quickly bailed out of the shooting house, reloaded, and sprinted to my prize.  After the little jig I danced was over :)) I fired off a text to all my buddies "Killed a Booner at the Grove!".  Ok, he wasn't quite a Booner, but I guarantee I would have been no more excited if he had of been! 

11 points, 20" wide, 155" gross. and qualified for the Tennessee Deer Registry (our statewide record book).  Even though he's not my highest scoring buck, he is definitely the most special.  Only another hunter could understand the meaning of killing a deer of this caliber, not only in my home state, or even my home county, but on one of my leases, less than 15 minuets from my house!  THIS is why we put in the hours scouting, planting food plots, stretching barbed-wire, and checking trail cams.  THIS is why we keep getting up at 4 a.m.

Number 2 (Part B)

back to the story...

After we had my Jake in the cooler, and had rested for a short while, we decided to head back to the same field where where we had started that morning.  We were just hoping that birds would roost a little closer to the property line.  We had been set up calling for an hour or so when we heard our first gobble.  But instead of coming from the creek bottom like we expected, he was coming from the wide-open prairie across the road from where we had parked.  Unfortunately, we had nothing but 1/2 mile of open wheat field separating us from him, so there was no way to move on him.  Believe it or not, this bird ended up roosting in a cottonwood DIRECTLY over the road where we had parked!  Had we shot him out of the tree, if he wouldn't have landed in the bed of the truck, he would have been darn close!  And yes, we had plenty of legal light when we got back to the truck to have "limb-jerked" him if we had chosen to - we just didn't want to kill one like that.

Somehow we managed to get out of there without flushing the "road bird" off roost, so the next morning we headed back to the same farm.  We decided that we would have the best chance at killing him if we split up, so I hunted the wheat field side of the road where we had been the day before & Craig hunted across the road where the turkey had come from the afternoon before.  The Tom flew down on Craig's side.  The big Rio strutted an gobbled at everything Craig threw at him, but just wouldn't close the deal on the open prairie without being able to see a hen.  By this time we were pretty beat down.  This had already been the most physically demanding hunt I had ever been on.  Admittedly, we probably made it harder on ourselves than it had to be.  But, like I said when it comes to turkeys, we hunt hard!  So, what do you do when you're in KS getting beat down by a bunch of Rios?  Why you head to town to eat a huge brunch at IHOP, of course! 

After a nice break, we headed back to Bennington where Craig had killed the Tom the day before.  We started working our way around the big milo field and almost immediately, I got a gobble in response to my crow call.  After that, he would gobble every 10 minutes or so at the crow call, but simply would not respond to a yelp.  Well, we finally give up on this old boy & hoof it back to the truck (probably 1/2 of a mile).  We were on the way to glass the farm on the other side of the road (where we killed the Tom the day before) when we spotted 2 big toms with a bunch of hens in someone's back yard right next to the farm we had just come from!  So we turn around, park in the same spot, and hoof it back in.  I made it as far as I could (about where we had left the "crow call" Tom a little earlier) and just gave out.  I told Craig I couldn't go any further.  So he tried to get a little closer to the property line while I took a much needed break.  The brush on our side of the fence ended up being too thick to get close enough to even see the birds, much less try to do anything with them.  So after I recovered a little we headed back out to the edge of the milo, set out a couple of decoys, and decide to just sit and call till dark.  We were hopeful, and knew that we had birds in the area, but honestly at this point we were just too tired to do anything else!

The milo stubble was so tall, I was having to stand up behind a tree to glass the field every 15 minutes or so to be sure we didn't miss anything.  We'd only been settled for about 30 minutes and I had just stood up to check the field when I spotted movement out of the corner of my eye.  The 2 Toms and hens stepped out of the brush into the milo field less than 75 yards from us!  This was one of those "pinch me, I must be dreaming" moments!  The only problem was that either the milo was too tall for them to see our decoys, of they just chose to ignore them.  We spent the rest of the afternoon easing around the edge of the field just trying to keep up with them as they fed.  (Oh yea, its funny how we got a second wind after spotting the birds!)  We would stay low in the creek bottom, move a few yards, and sneak up to the edge to glass them.  For most of the afternoon, the only way we could keep up with them was by spotting the top 3" of the tailfans as the Toms strutted in the stubble.   We were almost able to call the birds close enough to the edge of the field for a shot 2 or 3 times, but just never could get them quite close enough.  Anyway, to wrap this marathon post up... we followed the birds around the field for the better part of 3 hours (and at least a 3/4 mile) - at one point dropping back deep enough into the woods to sprint for several hundred yards to play catchup.  We finally managed to get in front of them just before they entered the woods to fly-up to roost.  The hens entered the woods within feet of us and started acting a little nervous.  I was staring at the Toms (3 by this time) still 50 yards out in the field.  I assumed that Craig could see them too, but he was a yard or 2 behind me, so unfortunately when I said "let's kill 'em!" and stood up, he wasn't ready.  It took 3 shots, but I GOT ONE!  :))  Craig's gun barked a time or two also, but the other 2 birds were spooked pretty good by the time he was able to get the gun on them.   

Let me tell you, I felt like we had just won the Superbowl!  I had never before or since put so much time and effort into pursuing 1 particular animal.  I know I've said it before, but only another hunter could understand this feeling of accomplishment.  To have come so far, and hunted soooooooooooooo hard, and to have ended up killing a Tom after such a marathon stalk with my best fried and hunting partner at my side was just better than I could have scripted!  The only damper that kept this from being THE perfect afternoon of hunting was that I somewhat "jumped the gun" & my buddy wasn't able to fill his last tag also...

Number 2 (Part A)

Spring 2005 - Mine & Craig's first Kansas Turkey hunt.  Needless to say, I simply fell in love with Kansas after my first trip to Todd's in 2004.  And, with little Mr. Stewart due the first part of July, 2005 I knew that not even I would be able to manage a hunting trip that Fall.  So, what do you do when you can't go on a Fall hunting trip?  You go in the Spring, of course!  That's right, somehow I managed to sweet-talk my lovely bride, who just happened to be 6 months pregnant at the time, into letting me head West for a quick 2 day turkey hunt. 

Craig & I left town about 6am on Friday morning, made the mandatory stop at Cabela's in Kansas City, and rolled into Todd's about 10pm.  After getting a few pointers from Todd and listening to some success stories from some other hunters, we hit the sack.  We started out on one of the farms where I had deer hunted the Fall before.  Let me tell you, to a boy from Tennessee who has only hunted Easterns, daylight at a Rio Grand roost in Kansas is really something special!  I don't think I had ever heard that many Toms gobbling together in one spot before.  It will give you chills!  The only problem was the entire flock was about 100 yards across the wrong side of the property line.  Well, after fooling with them for 3 or 4 hours with no luck, we headed back to the lodge to meet up with Todd.  Even though we had made a deal to hunt self-guided, he was gracious enough to ride us around for an hour or 2 showing us several areas where we could hunt.  One of these was the infamous Bennington (see # 6 and # 3 from this countdown), a wide spot in the road about 15 mile from the lodge.  We really liked the looks of the area headed back that way as soon as he dropped us off at the lodge.  We were basically hunting 2 "sections" (square miles) on either side of a paved road.  One side of the road was 2 enormous wheat fields separated by a small river, and some pasture dotted with scrub cedar. The other side was a small wheat field & an enormous field of milo stubble, separated by a creek bottom & flanked by the river.

Craig & I both approach turkey hunting with somewhat of a run and gun attitude.  We like to hunt aggressively & don't hesitate to make something happen when the birds aren't cooperating.  We definitely carried this mind-set to Kansas.  We knew that we only had 2 days to hunt, so we planned to hunt hard - and that is EXACTLY what we did!  We started out on the side of the Hwy with the wheat fields / pasture separated by the river.  The largest of the fields (several hundred acres, maybe 1000) was actually a series of fields broken up by terraces and strips of woods.  The only problem was that the wheat was too high to see any birds unless they had their heads stuck up in the air.  So, we spent several hours just going from terrace to terrace glassing and trying to get a response to our calls.  Let me tell you, if you've never done it, it is going to be hard for me to convey here just how tiring it is to cover a square mile of territory in 2 or 3 hours, trying to raise a gobble.  By the time we got back to the truck, I was questioning the sanity of trying to hunt anything with a shotgun in these huge fields.  I think I would have felt under-gunned with a laser guided missile!   Not to mention, we totally struck out!  Well, after we recovered for a few minutes we decided to drive around to the other side of the river & check the other field.  On the way past the pasture, we saw a big Tom strutting with a 8 or 10 hens!  Unfortunately, a quick call to Todd confirmed our suspicions - the only way to get to these birds was going to involve a 1 mile hike (each way).  We parked the truck, made our way across the longest wheat field I think I've ever seen, skirted the edge of the river, climbed a cedar bluff that would make a mountain goat queasy, and were finally in position - but the birds were no where to be seen ! :(( !  You see, after we got on top of the bluff, we discovered that the pasture was actually cut-up with rolling hills, dips, and draws.  So, we just fanned out - about 50 yards apart, and started slowly weaving our way across the pasture.  We would ease from one bit of cover to the next, softly calling all the while.  Before we had gone very far, I noticed Craig stand up, raise his gun, and start purring on his mouth call.  He was looking just over the rise from me.  He has spotted the flock about 25 yards away.  The problem was that they were all feeding, so he had trouble picking out the Tom.  Luckily, he was smart enough to make the purr.  We the ole Tom heard it, he broke out into a half strut, & Craig BUSTED him!  His first Rio!  I was genuinely as proud as if I had shot him myself.  I think it was about 3:30pm, only 8 or 9 nine hours into our hunt, and it was already the most physically challenging hunt I had ever been on! 

Well, after we celebrate for awhile and head back to the lodge to throw the Tom in the cooler, we headed out again.  This time we started a little closer to the lodge - glassing some fields from the road.  Wasn't long till we spotted a group of turkeys at the edge of another wheat field, just past an old abandoned house.  We knew that they were gobblers from their red heads, but couldn't tell if they were Toms or Jakes because the wheat was so tall.  We park the truck, bail off down in the creek bottom, and start making our way toward them.  It wasn't long till the creek bottom flattened out and no longer provided enough cover to hide us.  So we belly-crawled up to an old farm road, put the old house between us & the birds, and basically just walked toward them.  By this time we were pretty sure that they were Jakes because they were hanging tight together, and pretty much just ignoring our calls.  I decided that I was going to try for one anyway - mainly because I had never killed a Rio & the hunting had been pretty tough so far.  We made it all the way up to the old house without being detected.   I joked to Craig that I was going to shoot one through the window of the house if I got a chance, but they were just a little too far out in the field.  So, what a TN boy to do??  Why the "Tennessee low-crawl", of course!  That's right, the wheat was tall enough that I was able to slide out the last 20 yards or so, and then just stand up and BOOM!  MY FIRST RIO!  (Ok, actually it was boom - boom counting my second shot, but we don't have to talk about that :))  )  Jake or not, I was thrilled!

 

This hunting story is being interrupted by a trip to Disney World.  I'd love to finish, but it's late & I have to finish packing!  Check back later in the week for the conclusion to this story & for the Grand Finale, NUMBER 1!

Number 3

Sept 16th, 2006 - my Kansas giant!  My biggest (best scoring) and 2nd favorite rack of all time.  Forgive me if you've read this story when I was reminiscing a few weeks ago.  I wrote about it before I decided to do the "Top 10", but I certainly don't mind telling it again if you don't mind reading it :))

I first hunted with Todd at Pipe Creek Guide Service on a rifle hunt in 2004.  At the time, I think he had over 14,000 acres leased and a brand-new lodge adorned with an abundance of "Boone and Crockett" - class deer on the walls.  His hunts are semi-guided - he basically turns you loose on a section (square mile) or half-section (1/2 square mile), points out some existing stands, tells you how the deer typically move, makes suggestions for a given wind, and says "have at it".  My kind of hunting!  Just like hunting at home, but with world-class deer!  To make a long story short, my 2004 hunt ended with me missing a 140" class 8pt on day 4 or 5 at 330 yards.  

I put in for a preference point in 05, and then drew another tag in 06.  We decided to hunt the second week of Muzzleloader season.  To my knowledge, Kansas has one of the earliest firearms whitetail seasons in the country - normally opens around the 1st of Sept.  We chose the second week because of a better moon phase, and were hoping for a little cooler temps.   

My buddy Jeff had to be in KY for work, the day before we were supposed to leave, and the other 2 guys from Fayetteville were planning on leaving at mid-night, so I chose to drive out by myself.  I pulled out of the drive at 4 am, pointed the white Chevy West, and started eating-up pavement!  I pulled into camp 12 1/2 hours later, with stops only for gas, bathroom, and McDonald's.  By the way, I arrived only 45 minutes behind the guys who left at mid-night!  It was 96 that afternoon with storms and a cold-front expected later that night.  Some of the other guys were debating whether or not to even go out - 1 or 2 were just planning to glass some fields & hopefully spot something to hunt the next day.  I on the other hand had no doubts - I came to hunt! 

I'd had one particular farm in mind on the entire trip out.  This was a spot where Craig & I had killed 3 turkeys in one morning that same Spring (see # 6 on the countdown).  So, when Todd mentioned that no one was hunting that area, I knew EXACTLY where I wanted to go.  I don't remember exactly when I left camp, but I think I was settled into my spot by about 6:00 (didn't get dark till almost 8).  I was hunting on the ground, watching a small river (more like a big creek) crossing.  I had only been there about 15 minutes when my first deer, a small buck, came out to drink.  In no time, I had already seen 5 bucks!  The best was a real wide 130" class 8pt.  The only problem was that all of these deer were crossing up-river, over 300 yards away!  As soon as they were out of sight, I jumped up & moved about 100 yards closer.  It was starting to get late - probably 7:30 or so.  I had seen 3 or 4 does and a couple more small bucks since I moved.  I ranged the trail that most of the bucks seemed to be using at 220 yards.  Although I was obviously hoping for a closer shot, I was pretty confident with the Savage out to 200 yards.  Anyway, like I said, light was starting to get a little dim when I noticed a big-bodied, dark-colored deer at the top of the opposite river bank, just a little closer than the 220 yard trail - probably 200.  His head was behind some limbs, but I knew immediately that it had to be a buck.  For some reason, I took my eyes off of him before he stepped out from behind the limb, and then the next thing I knew he was standing in the edge of the river getting a drink.  Put the glasses on him, & saw a WALL of points!  Had never before (or since) seen so many points sticking up from a beam!  No doubt - shooter.  I put the Savage dead-center on his shoulder & let her fly.  I heard the bullet hit, he reared up on his back legs & lunged across the river.  I jumped up, reloaded, and started toward where I hoped he would be laying.  I must admit, I was more than a little nervous about finding him given the distance of the shot & my miserable track record on previous muzzleloader hunts.  Luckily, I found him with little or no trouble at all.  He had died at the bottom of the river bank on my side, only going the width of the river (30 yards or so) after the shot.  And, man oh man what a sight he was!  Big 'ole Kansas body and a rack like none other I'd ever seen.  14 scoreable points (7 x 7) grossing right at 160" - truly a world-class deer!   Did I mention that I was excited?  I stood there looking at him (while making phone calls to inform the world, of course) till well after dark! :))

 

There are so many factors that will make this one of my most memorable hunts forever.  It's almost as if fate intervened.  To drive 12 1/2 hours and then kill a 160" deer after only being in camp for exactly 3 hours!  And to do it in my chosen spot, on my favorite of Todd's farms!  Not to mention a 200 yard clean-kill shot with a muzzleloader - by THE guy who hates (or used to hate) muzzleloaders!   UNBELIEVABLE! 

Number 4

Dec 12th, 2004 - my first "big" deer!  By 2004, I had been fortunate enough to kill a lot of deer, including some really nice bucks.  If my memory is correct, I think I had 6 or 7 bucks on the wall around this time - the best would have probably "scored" around 125 or so.  All are very respectable deer, much more than any number or "score" represents.  I would proudly shoot most of them again today if given the opportunity.  But, I had yet to even come close to the bench mark for a real trophy in my mind (at that time), the magical 140" mark. 

This was during our late Muzzleloader season.  I was hunting a brand new food plot on our lease at The Grove.  Rick & I had worked all summer long clearing a spot about an acre in size along a ridge-top.  It was basically just a logging road / cow path surrounded by briars, locusts, and other thorn trees.  With the help of Rick's dozer, both our tractors, chainsaws, and a lot of blood sweat & tears, we managed to end up with a pretty good looking plot.  We also managed to make a really nice shooting house by welding together some steel packing crates and covering them with masonite siding.  You can see the house in the background of this pic.  

By the end of September, we had the shooting house in place, 3 strands of barb-wire stretched all the way around the perimeter, and a good stand of Buck Forage Oats coming up.  As soon as season opened, we began seeing a handful of deer using the plot on a regular basis.  Even though Rick & I had hunted this farm for years, this was the first year were were able to control (lease) it.  It had been extremely over-hunted for many, many years.  So, we were really just happy to be able to get a food plot in and see deer using it. 

I still remember that Sunday afternoon plainly.  It was the last day of late Muzzleloader season - weather was OK, but not great - I had decided to spend the afternoon with Brandi & the kids instead of hunting.  Luckily for me, Rick called & twisted my arm, so I grabbed my gear & headed to the farm.  I was a little late getting into the house - prob between 2:30 and 3.  Movement was pretty good - I think I probably saw a half-dozen does and a couple of small bucks.  I still had a few does out in the plot at dark when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye.  Raised the glasses, and saw a good buck skirting the outside edge of the plot.  He was going away from me by the time I spotted him, but I could tell he was very wide, looked like a BIG clean rack - a definite shooter!  I was VERY excited - this was probably the biggest deer I had ever seen on this farm.  The only problem was he was walking directly away from me into a cedar thicket, and it was almost dark.  Well, needless to say, I was glued to the window of the shooting house, gun in hand, with my eyes trained to the spot where the buck had disappeared.  I don't remember exactly how much time passed, but it couldn't have been more than 5 minutes or so...  I was staring strait ahead at some does in the center of the food plot when I once again caught movement out of the corner of my eye.   Buck!  BIG BUCK!  He was already across the fence in the plot, coming from my right, headed for the does.   The rest, as they say, is history!  1 shot through the shoulder from my Remington 700ML at about 50 yards.  He jumped the fence, ran maybe 30 yards & was down!  At this point, I really didn't know what I had shot - I just knew he had a lot of points.  I still remember calling Brandi as I was walking up on him saying "You won't believe it!  I just shot the biggest deer I've ever seen!  He's a 10 POINTER!  NO, HE"S AN 11 POINTER!!!!!" 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

To this day, I am still not convinced that this is the same deer that I had seen earlier in the afternoon.  They were both of the same caliber, but my first impression of the first buck was of a totally different type of rack.  Plus, that deer was at 80 yards and walking away from me, while this deer came out of the woods at 50 yards.  Who knows??  Maybe the first buck was a different one, survived 2 more years, and then turned up on this count-down a little later - stay tuned...  :))  Either way, I was elated and felt very fortunate to take a deer of this caliber!  Oh yea, scored 144 & some change if you're wondering.

Number 5

Wow!  Half way there on this countdown of my "top 10" hunts.  Hope you are enjoying reading them as much as I am writing them! 

Iowa, (my new favorite destination for whitetails!) - December 2007.  For those who haven't already read it, you can follow the full story in the December archives of my blog.  I'll just hit the high points here:

This started as a hunt that I was very reserved about - just didn't know what to expect because we were hunting late season, brutal weather, and right behind 4 other hunters.  Needless to say, my spirits were definitely lifted after the first day!  Ended up seeing 6 bucks (4 definite shooters) and a tremendous amount of fresh sign in the snow while scouting the day before our hunt. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I don't mind admitting that after seeing all the bucks scouting, I had just a little trouble sleeping!  The alarm FINALLY went off at 4:30 and we were off to the farm by 5:15.  It was 19 with a wind chill of 4 or 5 when Rick dropped me off at 5:45.  (Temps fell throughout the day - down to 13 by noon)  It took me about 15 min to walk to the blind and probably another 10 min to get dressed. 

Finally got settled in the pop-up about 6:15 - a good 45 min before shooting light.  First deer came out about 10 minutes before good light.  A small buck, a couple of does, and an 8 pt.  The 8 came out & made a scrape about 40 yds in front of me.  I could tell he was a good deer, but just didn't have enough light to tell exactly how good, so I let him go.  At 9:30, a spike came running down the draw from my right to left.  I lost him behind some brush when he got in front of me.  Then, when I was glassing to my left trying to pick him back up, I saw a BIG 8pt about 100 yards away.  Long story short, I tried to shoot through a bunch of thick brush, hit a limb, & missed :(( 

Things settled back down and I was starting to think about lunch.  I sent Rick a message to see if he wanted to break long enough to eat.  Here is our exchange:

11:00 Me - when u want break for lunch?

11:01 Rick - Any time u get ready

11:02 Me  - Pick me up at 12?

11:04 Rick - Ok any thing movin over your way?

About this time, I start to type no when a spike bust of from behind me to my right.  So, I start to type spike when I hear hoof beats.  I look over my left shoulder & see HORNS!  He stops about 50 yds in front of me, behind a cedar that I have used to hide my blind.  No doubt - shooter.  I can see him fine with my naked eye, but when I raise the gun, there is a cedar branch in front of my scope.  Finally get repositioned & get the shot off.  Hear the bullet hit & see the deer lurch.  I take my  time reloading & then send Rick another TXT:

11:06 Me - Just shot 1, just now!

End result was this gnarly 'ole brute.  19" wide, left brow broken recently, right beam broken in velvet, couple of kicker points, tip of one ear ripped, right eye gouged, oh & did I mention 250 ++ lbs on the hoof! 

I have certainly killed deer that would score higher, but this was probably the "coolest" day of deer hunting I've ever had.  Combination of snow, cold weather, and some awesome encounters (not to even mention the kill!), will always make this one of my most memorable hunts ever!

Number 6

I know - I just posted Number 7 last night, but this is such a good story I just can't WAIT to tell it!  Spring 2006, Craig's & my second trip to Kansas for turkeys.  At this time, Craig was working night shift, so we left out as soon as he managed to get off - about 5am I think.  13 hours later, we pulled up at Todd's place.  This was actually my third time to hunt with Todd and our second Spring turkey trip, so we knew our way around pretty good.  Todd wasn't around that afternoon, but he called & gave us a lead on a bird that he'd been hearing right behind the lodge.  So we jumped into our camo & headed back down the road about a 1/4 mile to a small hidden field.  We were greeted by 2 Toms (1 in full strut), a Jake, and a handful of hens.  We played cat and mouse with them till fly-up, but never really even managed to get into position to work them.  The next morning, we could here them gobbling from the lodge as soon as we stepped out on the porch!    Craig won the toss so after we put out some decoys, he set-up on the edge of the field with me behind him to call.  For those of you who have never had the pleasure to hunt this part of Kansas, it is pretty flat with huge fields separated by wooded creek-bottoms.  So these birds were roosted on our level, but across the creek.  Instead of just flying strait down like an Eastern, they actually flew up over the tree tops, and across the creek to land in our decoys.  That is, the hens ad Jake did.  The Tom either flew down on the other side of the creek & walked across or flew down on our side but still in the woods.  Anyway, we could hear him drumming as soon as he hit the ground.  A few yelps later & BOOM!  Craig had his first KS bird of 2006 only 5 minutes after fly-down - perfect hunt!  While we were working these, we had heard another Tom across the creek to our right, so after a few pics, we struck out after him.  Long story short, I got impatient & he saw me :((  Oh well, LOTS of birds in KS - let's go find another one!  We did - actually got on several more during mid-day but just couldn't close the deal.  Then probably around 4, we spotted a big bunch of Toms in a pasture where we had killed a Tom the year before.  We rarely ever drive past this pasture without spotting some birds.  The only problem is that the best way in to it is about a 2 mile hike.  We had just about decided to try a different approach (under a bridge, along a river, across a few fences) when I looked up & spotted 3 of the Toms crossing the highway toward us.  They made it across & into a wheat field.  Let me tell you, I pulled EVERY trick out of my hat that afternoon (including the Tennessee low crawl) but came up about 20 yards short in the end.  We ended up just backing out with high hopes for the next morning.  This wheat field (maybe 20 acres) was separated from a HUGE milo field (probably 200 + acres) by with a long strip of woods, 50 - 75 yards wide.  We set-up in the edge of the wheat field because we weren't sure exactly where in the strip they had roosted.   At daylight, it seemed like there were birds gobbling in every tree, but for some reason they were staying in the woods instead of coming to the field.  After about an hour, we decide to try to make something happen.  So we bail off down in the woods & start to S  L  O  W  L  Y make our way toward them.  We had only gone about 50 yards or so when I spotted just a little bit of dark movement.  Put the glasses on it & yep, sure enough it was the top of a tail fan.  He was in full strut just over a small rise.  We both hit the ground & managed to crawl back to our original spot in record time.  We crawled up to a big cottonwood & just laid down flat.  Craig on the right & me on the left.  Well, it wasn't long before they started coming.  3 big Toms  - the biggest running the other 2 strait toward us.  The only problem was it was my turn to shoot & they were on Craig's side of the tree.  I couldn't swing my gun to the right because I was laying down on the left side of the tree!  So, we just let them run right past us - less than 10 yards from Craig.  As soon as they were even with me, I just raised up on my knees, pointed (not aimed) the gun & rolled one!  At the shot, both of the other birds few about 10 yards up into the air & then landed down in the woods - maybe 30 yards away.  [side note - unlike TN, you can kill your limit of turkeys all in the same day in KS :))]  So, what's a guy to do??  BOOM!  2 shots, 2 BIG Toms, all in about 5 seconds!  And then, believe it or not, some more birds start gobbling before we are even through celebrating!  Like I said, what's a guy to do?  I drop my gun with the birds & we head up the bottom.  At one point after that, we are set up against a big cottonwood with gobbling turkeys 50 yards through thick cover in each direction.  We literally spun around the tree 2 or 3 times whenever we thought 1 group was getting closer.  Long story short, we ended up being on the wrong side at the wrong time and got busted.  But, Craig was able to belly crawl up to a rise & ended up killing his anyway!  3 birds to finish out our limit all within an hour!  I can still remember the text message I fired off to all my buddies back home in TN "Massacre in KS!  3 more dead the morning!  We're done!"  That was, without a doubt, the most intense morning of turkey hunting I've ever had!   Oh, and in case you're wondering - in Kansas turkeys don't come in flocks, they come in  PILES! :))

Number 7

April 1st, 1989 - the first turkey I killed on my own!  I killed my first turkey in the Spring of 1986, at the age of 14 with more than a little help from my good friend (and then Uncle) Dwain.  Of course a turkey hunter's first bird is always special, but for me the one that really stands out in my mind is the first I managed to kill on my own.  I think this is mainly because of the obsession with which I used to chase those birds.  From age 12 on, I was obsessed with killing a wild turkey.  We just didn't have that many birds back then.  But, I was very fortunate in that I grew up just a mile or 2 from one of the original stocking points for our County.  So, we had birds long before many others in Lincoln County.  Hate to bore anyone, or sound like your Grandfather with my "walked 5 miles to school, in the snow, uphill both ways" stories, but ...before I got a truck at age 17, I used to have to walk for a solid hour from my house just to get to a point where I could hear a turkey gobble - much less get in a position to try to hunt him.  I would gladly make this walk several times a week, just content to hear a few gobbles.  Looking back, I don't think I ever wanted anything (hunting wise) as bad as those first turkeys.  I'm not positive, but I'm pretty sure April 1st was opening day that year.  The farm I was hunting was basically a horseshoe shaped hardwood ridge surrounding a green hollow (valley if you're not from TN) probably 100 - 150 acres.  Forgive me, but the details have gotten a little fuzzy after 19 years :))  I do remember chasing 2 or 3 gobbling birds around for most of the morning.  At one point, I finally called them to about 75 yards & just about came unglued as I watched them strut & mill around in an old logging road.  I really long for the days when I would get so excited from just seeing a turkey or deer.  Back then, I was using a 2-piece yelper box that took both hands to operate, so I was really handicapped after they got close enough to spot movement.  I basically couldn't call unless they were out of sight.  I had "chased" them all morning, staying downhill from them the whole time, stopping to call whenever I got close.  I had yet to learn the art of trying to cut-off or get in front of a bird you are working (instead of chase), and also the importance of getting on their level.  Well, after they had eased up the logging road & out of sight, I made a mad dash up to where they had crossed under a fence.  I stopped in a small patch of wide-open hardwoods and made a series of loud yelps.  I was shocked at how close they were when they answered back!  I remember just dropping right where I was, kind of beside a big tree, but was really more or less just sitting out in the open.  I would put my gun down, make a quick call, and then pick it up again.  I did this several times as they worked their way to me.  After what seemed like forever (probably 5 minutes), here they came!  Either 2 or 3 Jakes - I honestly don't remember anymore.  The leader popped-up in full strut about 20 yards from me, & I let the Mossberg 500 bark!  One shot & he was flopping!  I don't think I have ever celebrated in the woods like that - before or since!  I can clearly remember whooping, hollering, and jumping around for a long time!  Probably a good thing nobody was there to witness it :))  Talk about 10 feet tall & bullet proof - that was me for the rest of that day for sure.  I don't think my feet even touched the ground for the entire walk back to the truck!  

Number 8

Spring of 97 - Brandi's big Tom!  I can still remember the day when Brandi & I were watching a turkey hunting video in our first house, when I said "I should take you turkey hunting".  Much to my surprise, she said "Yea, you should!".  So that fall, she took the Hunter's Ed class with my nephew, Keith.  We bought her a single-shot NEF 12ga & some camo, and anxiously awaited Spring!  She was hooked after the first morning!  We had some great hunts that first year and she managed to kill a Jake her second day out.  But, the best hunt was the following year!  We were hunting one of my all-time favorite turkey spots - a big river-bottom corn field that has a 1/2 acre "island" (long narrow strip) of trees in the middle.  I can't count the number of birds I've killed in this spot (3 last year alone!).  It seems like every bird that walks through the field passes by this island.  We had heard some birds gobbling on the ridge above the field at daylight, but nothing real close - so we decided to split up & just call for awhile.  I put Brandi on the point, set-up with a hen decoy, and I moved down about 100 yards from her & also set out a decoy.  I don't remember how long we'd been there, but pretty soon a big 'ole Tom broke out of the woods directly in front of me in full strut!  Now picture this - we are both set up with decoys, I'm calling - she's not, I'm 100 yards closer to the turkey than she is, guess where he goes??  Yep, makes a bee-line strait for her decoy!  It's like once he got to the field, he no longer cared for my call, & my decoy must have been ugly compared to hers!  Well, once I saw where he was headed, I just quit calling & started the silent mantra "please let her get him!, please let her him!, please let her get him!".  Funny, she told me later that she was so nervous, she was saying "please let him go to Chris!, please let him go to Chris!, please let him go to Chris!".  Ha!  He never slowed up, walked right up to her decoy (between 10 - 15 yards away from her) & started bumping it, all in full strut!  Unfortunately, her gun was pointed in the wrong direction to get a shot off.  But she was patient (even though she said she could hear me in the back of her mind screaming "SHOOT!  SHOOT HIM!  SHOOOOOOT!").  Brandi knew from watching my hunting videos, & from listening to me, that she would be able to get away with a little movement once he turned away & put his fan to her.  By this time, I was so nervous that I just had to put my head down - I couldn't watch.  I just continued my little prayer "please let her get him!  please let her get him!  please let her get him!".  Soon enough, even though I couldn't bear to look, she was able to get turned & get the gun on him.  Boom!  Perfect shot!  So close he never even flopped!  I can still remember sprinting down the field & giving her a huge hug!  She was so excited, she was nearly hyperventilating!  At that point in time, it was without a doubt the most excited I'd ever seen her!   He ended up being bigger (weight wise) than any Tom I'd killed before, or since - 25lbs!  Spurs were about 1 1/8", but he only had about a 3" beard - looked like he had the "beard rot" fungus that so many of our birds get.  For some reason, this fungus causes a portion of their beard to lose the pigment.  Then it turns almost blond, gets very brittle, and breaks off.  Beard or not, definitely one of my all time best hunts & favorite memories!

Number 9

2/10/96 - my first bob-cat!  Alright all you fellow deer & turkey nuts, no I haven't lost my mind - just hear me out:  I was very fortunate in that I had a great friend (and one-time uncle, but that's another story) who took the time to introduce me to both deer & turkey hunting, with which I soon became OBSESSED.  But, as I got a little older, I began to pick up a few other hunting interests.  One of these was predator calling.  Even though I never did a whole lot of of it, I was intrigued by the idea of fooling the sharpest critters in the woods into hunting ME!  I had managed to call in a few coyotes (they always seemed to wind me before I could get a shot), but the real prize in my mind was a bob-cat!  Best I can recall, I had only seen 3 bob-cats in the wild before I killed my first, even though I had been hunting for 15 years already.  The first one was running through a cedar thicket, the second & third both walked up on me when I was in a bow stand.  So, in my mind, they took on an almost mystical presence.  Kind of like hunting a ghost - you know they are there, but never see them.  I can still remember the afternoon of Feb 10, 1996 very well.  It was cool, foggy, and misting rain on and off.  I parked on my Grandfather's farm, crossed over to the neighbor's land and made my first 3 or 4 sets in and around some cedar thickets.  I was using a mouth-blown rabbit squealer and a "coaxer" that was home-made out of an old squirrel call.  Seems like I probably lasted 20 or 30 minutes at each set, but just didn't have any luck.  I had ended up making a big circle, & arrived back to my Grandfather's property just in time for 1 more set before dark.  I sat down with my back to a big tree at the top of a ridge.  I had hardwoods sloping down to a pond in front of me, sage covered pasture to my right, cedars to my left, and a jungle of thorns & honeysuckle behind me.  [side note - this spot is about 100 yards from where I killed the bob-cat this year during deer season] I had probably only been calling for 5 or 10 minutes, but I'm sure it was long enough to start getting discouraged when out of NOWHERE, there it was!  15 yards in front of me, in wide open hardwoods, staring at it's next meal (me), A BOB-CAT!!!!!  Where in the world it came from, or how it got this close without me seeing it, I don't know!  It was close!  So close in fact, I honestly remember hesitating for a moment before shooting, wondering if the 10 gauge was going to turn it inside out :))  Oh yea, my predator gun of choice at the time was a short-barreled 10 gauge, shooting # 4 buck.  Well, I didn't hesitate too long, and no the 10 gauge didn't do too much damage.  Boom / flop - she never moved.  A good sized female, but would have been no more prized if it had of been a Boone and Crocket cougar!   I had called in and killed the sharpest animal in the woods, and had done it ALL on my own.  No one had ever taken me predator hunting, or shown me how to hunt cats - that made it all the sweeter!