Rollo the Wunderdog and His Turkey

Rollie sent me some pics of the turkey he got along with his hunting journal entry. Way to go Rollie.

Jason,
Copy of my turkey journal:

Wed. April 26, first morning 3rd season. 32degrees, cloudless, light
wind, no moon, Perfect.

Pete S. and I went listening Tues. We had realized a group of 10
toms we were watching had moved a half mile, but were huntable. Another
spot had a bird that was hit or miss. The third spot, where we shot our
birds last year, had only one tom. We knew this lowd mouthed bird from
last year, but he had been hunted hard for two seasons. We argued all
the way home and made a decision to hunt the hit or mis bird because
there were other set-ups close. By morning I was convinced to hunt the
bird from last year. We knew where he roosted,and I had come up with a
plan.

We went in early, 4:20. We knew right where he roosted, and entered the
woods downfield 150yds. We sat down and waited for a gobble. Ten min.
later he started. He was where we heard him Monday. We moved into the
woods 60 yds. to be even with the tom. I did a very short tree yelp. We
waited as he relentlessly gobbled. Hens started getting out of the trees
around us.
Because I had yelped, they knew I wasn't a hen on the ground close to
them, and they flew away from the tom. Maybe a dozen birds got down.
There were still a few hens with the tom. I was about to call when a
hen called behind me; she and her friend flew away from the tom. He was
getting pissed because the hens wern't coming. He moved deeper into the woods gobbling every few seconds; then he shut up. I knew he was looking. He moved 80 yards
back toward the field silently, then gobbled. I did a short yelp trying
to keep him out of the field and in range to my left. At this point Pete
saw him and pointed with one finger. I got ready, but had no view in
that direction.

Pete was 8ft to my left. The old tom was doing the spit & drum, while
strutting with an ocasionable thunder gobble. I took the safety off and
put my head down on the stock. I saw a dark patch in the only small
opening I had between the oalks. A blue head appeared looking right at
me sillouheted against a huge dark fan. My mind said two things, "10
gauge, heavy shot." I fired. I got up and stumbled forward with the gun
on safe. I knew my time to trip was near. I was yelling to Pete, "Go get
him! Go get him!" Pete knew enough to stay away from a stumbling
disabled man with a 10gauge.
The bird was down. It made one last attempt to escape running and
flapping, but Pete tackled it risking life, nads and limb.

We tagged the tom admiring the sharp spurs and nice thick beard. We
shook hands, thanked God for the nice day and the job he did with the
hens. Pete took the bird back to where I shot. I took 75 steps to get
there. I have never taken a shot that long. It was the only shot I would
have gotten. The next time the tom would have been free of trees, Pete
would have been too close to the shot. Confidence in the gun, the heavy
shot, and patterning gave me the confidence to take the shot.

If this is the last bird I ever shoot, it would be fitting. The
scouting, set up, calling (lack of calling), were all perfect. I would
have been content not killing this bird, only outsmarting him. This bird
took everything I've learned in all my years of turkey hunting.

This is the third bird I've taken since doing my latest cancer
treatment.
Pete S. and Bruce F. have made this possible. Pete and I scout
and hunt together. He is my partner and student of turkey hunting. Pete
helps me carry my Doc H. amount of gear and my 10gauge Otto. Yes, I
call it Otto. He carried the last two birds out. Bruce carried the one
before that. Hunting and fishing keep me going, and keep my mind on the
prize. Hunting and fishing with friends and family. This is the best
quality time. My friends in the Nursing Fawns are my best friends. I
know if I die on the stream, or in the woods; they will think long and
hard before gutting me before they drag me out.
Rollie

Opening of Trout Fishing, part deux...

Continued from part I ...





We cleaned the trout and headed back to Mark and Pattis as they were having a cook-out and we would also have a better place to sleep. The food was great, and we got a lot of world problems solved as well. We found out Kirk is giving an alternative lifestyle speech at the local church. Way to go Kirk.



...and Joe did his Ray Charles impression with Petes poker er... driving glasses. Joes singing is much better than his physical impression of an old black man. We did manage to get in a doubles bocce ball game by the headlights of the Honda... Jerod and Katie against Katies boyfriend and I. Personally I like playing in the daylight better, but you have to do what you have to do.


I got home on Monday (tonight) and made the trout for dinner. That big boy came out great after I made it on the grill in a foil pan with oil, butter, salt, pepper and lemon juice. Gotta go to bed now and get caught up on my sleep. Nighty night.

Opening of Trout Fishing

We tried something different this year and setup camp at a campground next to one of our favorite trout streams. Friday night at Mark and Pattis house, Saturday night at the campground. No tent as we were going to sleep in the vehicles.



As we were setting up, re-Pete drove in. He had just finished fishing and had his limit (give or take). Finally we got fishing on Saturday; got our limit; had dinner back at camp... trout, beans, and potatoes all washed down with Point Amber and a New Glarus Brewery sampler pack... Spotted Cow, Fat Squirrel, Uff-da, and about 5 other kinds. We had a bocce ball tournament which was quite a shoot-out. Jerod pulled out to an early 8-0 lead, but I came back and won with a 21-10 whooping.



Jerod opted to sleep in the Honda, Pete and I tried to sleep in the Tahoe, but the initial arrangement had our feet higher than our heads and when Pete tried to switch around he became all frazzled and decided to sleep sitting up in his own vehicle in the driver seat. That left the whole floor of the Tahoe for me, which was great except I got very cold and did not sleep too well. Pete did not sleep much in his vehicle either, so next year we bring the camper. I seem to remember somebody wanting the camper in the first place this year... hmmm.


We slept so bad that we got up and had breakfast, then packed up camp as we already knew we were not going to be sleeping like that again. We did some heavy duty fishing, getting our limits at one spot, then decided to try an area we had not fished before. It was a big, deep, lawn-chair, bobber-type hole that we usually do not fish but we gave it a shot. I caught a small one below the hole, then a 10 inch brook trout in the hole. Jerod had gone up stream to check things out and came back saying everything looked pretty bad upstream. He started fishing just above the big hole I was working on. All of a sudden I had a big one on so I yelled to Jerod and he cam over and helped me get it up on the bank. Jerod said the hook was barely in the lip, and when it got up on the bank, the hook fell out completely. That was close... turned out to be an 18.25 inch brown trout. I believe it is actually the largest trout I have ever caught.

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