THA4
A Few Steps Ahead Of You
If you would like to skip the latest edition of “How the World Craps on Thomas Allen” feel free to skip to the bottom and just view the pix, I don’t mind…. I get long winded…. 
Life has me extremely busy… as things usually seem to go.
As per my usual stories regarding dead deer and turks, this one has a story behind it. Strap in, pop a top, me gots another long one for ya!
The opening morning of 4th season found me and Jeremy trekking through a very dark pre-dawn morning heading back to Gobby Knob for Round Deux. I say very dark, ‘cause, it was almost impossible to see even after our eyes got used to things.
As we were trekking down a big hill towards our destination, I stepped on a busted and flat piece of hog paneling fence that had a big wooden stake attached to it. My forward momentum kept me going downhill as my toe was stuck in the fence. I fell flat on my face, and my shin stopped me from falling any further as all my weight was on top of my shin as it landed directly on the post…. It hurt, but not enough to stop the morning, plus Jeremy would not allow me to cry like a little girl with a hang-nail, nor would my pride allow such a shortcoming to be visible. I rubbed some dirt on it and kept on.
Gobby Knob was strangely silent that morning, but my “fall” is an important aspect to how things went today… sort of, at the very least my tie-in will implement some humor at my expense.
Those of you who have hunted with me know, things NEVER go as planned, and some sort of near disaster has an uncanny knack for working its way into my outings…. Never fails, and the story of my life…. Sound familiar?
It is early May, and my spring allergies have been kicking my butt as usual. This morning, I had to use a warm wash cloth to open my eyes as they were matted shut…. No not Pink Eye, allergies; happens every year, I hate it. Also with my recent career change, I have been driving 1.5 hours to work one way, almost every day, and the absence of my home life has been taking its toll. Ask my wife and she will tell you another story as there is less stress in the house when I’m gone, but that is another story for another time.
With my current seasonal health struggle, my lack of family time, Mother’s Day being tomorrow (May 10th) and way too many irons in the fire, I decided that today, May 9th, was to be my last day of turkey hunting for ’09 regardless. BUT, I was gonna try my derndest to get it done!
This morning I had a very slow hunt; it was windy, cold and not a good gobbling day. However, a buddy nailed a nice bird with his bow and we were able to celebrate his success over some black coffee and Frosted Flakes. I was unsure of my plans or how I was going to lay the smack down, but I wasn’t quitting until end of shooting time.
After some eye drops and some porcelain time, I headed back out to make my “milk-run” of Gob spots. I have access to enough properties to spend the afternoon running and gunning but wanted to visually inspect each of them first, and then head in for some aggressive locating. My first stop was a place where we occasionally saw birds, but rarely hunted due to the difficulty in approaching. At 12:30 I pulled into the drive, I immediately noticed 3 black blobs slowly milling about 700-800 yards out. I watched them for 20 minutes trying to determine some consistency in their direction. After some looking around, I decided it was time to move.
I backed the car down the drive-way and parked it about ¼ mile down the road and basically ran through a valley and up the other side. Yes, I said run…. It was more of a fast walk slowed by heavy breathing and probably the two bowls of Frosted Flakes I had recently consumed, nonetheless, I was moving as fast as I could. As I reached the top, I was able to see the birds again, still a minimum of a ¼ mile out. They had no clue I was there, but they had decided during my marathon that they were going to change course again and head the opposite direction I had been working towards.
Yes, I RAN back to the car feeling quite light-headed and nauseous from the over exertion I was putting my Heavyweight body through. I drove the car around to the other side of the farm. As I was rounding the corner, the three turks, now two, were already past where I wanted to set up and merely 150 yards from the road I was on and still headed for the next section. I pulled the car around the corner and down a hill, parked, grabbed the Browning Gold 10, and….. yes, ran again, up the embankment for a look-see. The two gobbies were 80 yards and closing.
I was almost dead at this point; I was wheezing, fat, red in the face, and fat. I dropped to my knees and began crawling towards a single large tree where I would make my stand. There was ample multi-flora-rose everywhere, which offered plenty of maneuvering cover, but was a pain to crawl through. About 10 yards from me tree, I put all my weight on my shin, yes, the same one that I hurt over a week prior, this time, I put it on top of a T-post which was covered up by the grass and under-brush. I almost died again… instead I cried a little. I kept on……
This tree was clear on one side, and had a big thorny MFR bush on the other side. Knowing the birds were getting close I opted to stay towards the thorny side. I peeked through the bushes and saw the two gobbies at about 60 yards. I had a mouth call in this whole time and I had begun to foam at the mouth…. I had the worst case of cotton mouth ever…. Thank you coffee….
The birds stopped and I gave them a few sand-paper sounding yelps which they seemed to like and they made a B-line right for my location. Having several new holes in my face from the thorn bush I was lying in, I watched the two birds continue their approach. 50 yards…. 40 yards….. close enough for the 10, but I wanted a sure deal so I let them keep coming. Suddenly they turned unexpectedly and I was without a shot. I slowly backed from the bush, rose to my knees, shouldered my shot gun and poked it through a hole and just as I suspected, they saw me.
It was too late, however, as the closest longbeard got introduced to over 2 ounces of Winchester Surpreme #5….. The “Upside-Down Bicycle” ended a very rigorous hunt and one that put down my new personal best Gobbler at 1:10 PM!
Guess what? This doesn’t end here.
I ran out to him, yes, I ran, and did a little dance on his head…. Just to make sure. I put the tag on him and carried him 35 yards to my car. He didn’t flop. I opened the trunk, threw him in, unloaded and cased my 10 ga. and hopped behind the wheel…. Still short of breath mind you.
As I drove away, I began to notice a foul odor coming from somewhere, could be freshly sprayed manure, or something…. But it was stank. All of the sudden I heard some angry flopping coming from the trunk… and then the trunk popped open and all was calm!
Swear words came out of my mouth at this point…..
I pulled over, ran to the back of the car expecting to find my bird running for its life out into the great blue yonder, rather I found out what the foul odor was…. This bird had one last bit of gumption left in him and he gave it his all, but in the process he managed to shat all over the inside of my trunk… and not a “J” turd either, but liquid, stank turk poo…..
I guess I got the last laugh, but he sure didn’t go without a fight!
Here he is,
27.5 lbs.
11 ¼ beard
1-1/4 spurs
Thanks for reading yet another chapter in the life of Thomas Allen and how the world finds a way to poo all over me..... but who's complainin'??
Life has me extremely busy… as things usually seem to go.
As per my usual stories regarding dead deer and turks, this one has a story behind it. Strap in, pop a top, me gots another long one for ya!
The opening morning of 4th season found me and Jeremy trekking through a very dark pre-dawn morning heading back to Gobby Knob for Round Deux. I say very dark, ‘cause, it was almost impossible to see even after our eyes got used to things.
As we were trekking down a big hill towards our destination, I stepped on a busted and flat piece of hog paneling fence that had a big wooden stake attached to it. My forward momentum kept me going downhill as my toe was stuck in the fence. I fell flat on my face, and my shin stopped me from falling any further as all my weight was on top of my shin as it landed directly on the post…. It hurt, but not enough to stop the morning, plus Jeremy would not allow me to cry like a little girl with a hang-nail, nor would my pride allow such a shortcoming to be visible. I rubbed some dirt on it and kept on.
Gobby Knob was strangely silent that morning, but my “fall” is an important aspect to how things went today… sort of, at the very least my tie-in will implement some humor at my expense.
Those of you who have hunted with me know, things NEVER go as planned, and some sort of near disaster has an uncanny knack for working its way into my outings…. Never fails, and the story of my life…. Sound familiar?
It is early May, and my spring allergies have been kicking my butt as usual. This morning, I had to use a warm wash cloth to open my eyes as they were matted shut…. No not Pink Eye, allergies; happens every year, I hate it. Also with my recent career change, I have been driving 1.5 hours to work one way, almost every day, and the absence of my home life has been taking its toll. Ask my wife and she will tell you another story as there is less stress in the house when I’m gone, but that is another story for another time.
With my current seasonal health struggle, my lack of family time, Mother’s Day being tomorrow (May 10th) and way too many irons in the fire, I decided that today, May 9th, was to be my last day of turkey hunting for ’09 regardless. BUT, I was gonna try my derndest to get it done!
This morning I had a very slow hunt; it was windy, cold and not a good gobbling day. However, a buddy nailed a nice bird with his bow and we were able to celebrate his success over some black coffee and Frosted Flakes. I was unsure of my plans or how I was going to lay the smack down, but I wasn’t quitting until end of shooting time.
After some eye drops and some porcelain time, I headed back out to make my “milk-run” of Gob spots. I have access to enough properties to spend the afternoon running and gunning but wanted to visually inspect each of them first, and then head in for some aggressive locating. My first stop was a place where we occasionally saw birds, but rarely hunted due to the difficulty in approaching. At 12:30 I pulled into the drive, I immediately noticed 3 black blobs slowly milling about 700-800 yards out. I watched them for 20 minutes trying to determine some consistency in their direction. After some looking around, I decided it was time to move.
I backed the car down the drive-way and parked it about ¼ mile down the road and basically ran through a valley and up the other side. Yes, I said run…. It was more of a fast walk slowed by heavy breathing and probably the two bowls of Frosted Flakes I had recently consumed, nonetheless, I was moving as fast as I could. As I reached the top, I was able to see the birds again, still a minimum of a ¼ mile out. They had no clue I was there, but they had decided during my marathon that they were going to change course again and head the opposite direction I had been working towards.
Yes, I RAN back to the car feeling quite light-headed and nauseous from the over exertion I was putting my Heavyweight body through. I drove the car around to the other side of the farm. As I was rounding the corner, the three turks, now two, were already past where I wanted to set up and merely 150 yards from the road I was on and still headed for the next section. I pulled the car around the corner and down a hill, parked, grabbed the Browning Gold 10, and….. yes, ran again, up the embankment for a look-see. The two gobbies were 80 yards and closing.
I was almost dead at this point; I was wheezing, fat, red in the face, and fat. I dropped to my knees and began crawling towards a single large tree where I would make my stand. There was ample multi-flora-rose everywhere, which offered plenty of maneuvering cover, but was a pain to crawl through. About 10 yards from me tree, I put all my weight on my shin, yes, the same one that I hurt over a week prior, this time, I put it on top of a T-post which was covered up by the grass and under-brush. I almost died again… instead I cried a little. I kept on……
This tree was clear on one side, and had a big thorny MFR bush on the other side. Knowing the birds were getting close I opted to stay towards the thorny side. I peeked through the bushes and saw the two gobbies at about 60 yards. I had a mouth call in this whole time and I had begun to foam at the mouth…. I had the worst case of cotton mouth ever…. Thank you coffee….
The birds stopped and I gave them a few sand-paper sounding yelps which they seemed to like and they made a B-line right for my location. Having several new holes in my face from the thorn bush I was lying in, I watched the two birds continue their approach. 50 yards…. 40 yards….. close enough for the 10, but I wanted a sure deal so I let them keep coming. Suddenly they turned unexpectedly and I was without a shot. I slowly backed from the bush, rose to my knees, shouldered my shot gun and poked it through a hole and just as I suspected, they saw me.
It was too late, however, as the closest longbeard got introduced to over 2 ounces of Winchester Surpreme #5….. The “Upside-Down Bicycle” ended a very rigorous hunt and one that put down my new personal best Gobbler at 1:10 PM!
Guess what? This doesn’t end here.
I ran out to him, yes, I ran, and did a little dance on his head…. Just to make sure. I put the tag on him and carried him 35 yards to my car. He didn’t flop. I opened the trunk, threw him in, unloaded and cased my 10 ga. and hopped behind the wheel…. Still short of breath mind you.
As I drove away, I began to notice a foul odor coming from somewhere, could be freshly sprayed manure, or something…. But it was stank. All of the sudden I heard some angry flopping coming from the trunk… and then the trunk popped open and all was calm!
Swear words came out of my mouth at this point…..
I pulled over, ran to the back of the car expecting to find my bird running for its life out into the great blue yonder, rather I found out what the foul odor was…. This bird had one last bit of gumption left in him and he gave it his all, but in the process he managed to shat all over the inside of my trunk… and not a “J” turd either, but liquid, stank turk poo…..
I guess I got the last laugh, but he sure didn’t go without a fight!
Here he is,
27.5 lbs.
11 ¼ beard
1-1/4 spurs
Thanks for reading yet another chapter in the life of Thomas Allen and how the world finds a way to poo all over me..... but who's complainin'??
