The most epic turkey hunting story ever.

[greenheadgrimreaper]

I am going to tell this story for my buddy who is on here, but never posts and rarely visits the site.

He has just gotten back into turkey hunting and has only killed one in his life. His camp is overrun with them so he has been at em' all season.

So recently he's bound and determined to get him a gobbler. As any driven turkey hunter will occasionally do, he roosted a bird that he has been hunting in a known location, in fact the known tree. This tree is on the side of a powerline. This last comment is key to the rest of the story.

So he goes in the morning of the hunt armed with a small herd of decoys (and grunt if you're reading you're a helluva deer hunter and a pretty good wingshot, but hey, we can't be good at everything) 2, yes 2 hours before daylight. This turkey will die... this turkey will die?

So morning light comes and the birds are a gobbling. Springtime at its finest. He is 40 or so yards from the bird with his flock watching the show. He knows exactly where they are going to fly to. Eye of the tiger ringin' in his ears. There are 5 are so birds on the same limb so he is not sure which is the gobbler, jakes or hens. It is still early but getting to the point where some birds in open areas can and do fly down. Turkeys don't see well in the dark, I've always been told. And I've always believed it. And I definitely believe it now.

So Grunt lets out a rendition of a cackle to amp up some excitement in the birds. And boy does it, boooy does it. He said if you didn't know it, you'd think it was a goose hunt over a pea field in Canada. This is primal folks, this is what it is all about, what we do it for. Mr. Tom, come on down! This one ol' boy comes sailin' in cocked, locked and ready to rock. First one off the roost. If you ain't first your last. Trample the weak and hurdle the dead, as ol' Uncle Ted says. Calm, still clear morning, birds cupping into the decoys, he could hear the breast meat fryin' in the skillet. Don't get any better than this right?

Oh he fried alright.

As the bird is sailing in, gracefully, silently, majestically, horny, Grunt watches. The world has stopped to give him his due respect. Ahem, well apparently his depth perception is off a bit. He seemed to of "miscalculated" the distance of the powerline in his frantic flight to the fresh flock of meat calling to him on the ground. Grand entrance fail. Big BIG fail.

At this point this bird of unknown age or sex begins an early morning battle with this light line and we're talking a main powerline, for a good 20 seconds- in mid air. Not really what you think when someone mentions turkey season in Mississippi. Feathers raining down, cackles, putts, voltage, the whole shebang. All flocks are on deck watching, plastic and real. A little awkward actually. Kinda that feeling when the cool kid in elementary school falls over in his chair- the alpha male has now been demeaned to a grunting ball of dammit- yeah that kind.

Now ol' Grunt can't believe what in the hell he is seein'. And nobody is there to witness as proof. Proof will soon come. This poor "illegitimate child" hits the ground with half of his feathers left, a bad limp and hurt pride- 12 yards from the end of Grunt's barrel. Well it is still dark and Grunt still being a little rattled on what in the hell just happened ain't seeing any signs this is a mature tom, so he assumes the obvious and lets the poor fellow shake it off and go lick his wounds. Tuff pill to swallow for the ol' jake, he may never live this one down. Lesson learned of greed and the power of the beaver biscuit. We all have succumbed at some point.

Weeeellll unfortunately, 2 hours pass and still no sign of the gobbler. So Grunt gets up to herd the flock and heads to the scene of the crime to take pics. Still stunned at the morning and disappointed in the lack of rewards for his perseverance he at least must make something of the morning. Why not gather some proof of what he has just seen. And proof he finds.

There laying in the pile of breast feathers, meat, blood and woodland pride, is a 10 3/4 inch paintbrush of a beard that'd make Cuz shed a tear. Just as sure as I am sitting here typing. The poor son of a bitch ripped his beard off! So I make it official, Ol' Grunt has got him a beard to hang on the stringer. Spurs? Eh, notsamuch. Beard? Got it covered. Meat? Gave it away. A BEARD BUT NO TURKEY!? WTF!!?

So... when you think you're having a bad day just remember that gobbler who is the unluckiest and luckiest fella walkin' in the woods. Ain't gotta worry about nobody mistakin' him for a mature tom for a little while. Or getting any poonany for awhile.

And in case you ever wondered, that my friends is how you kill a beard and let em' go to grow. Damn deer hunters!

[bottomland84]

Oh dear Jesus, help me! I'm on the floor laughing so hard I can't breath!

That has got to be the post of the year!!!

[ufgators68]

That's awesome.

[DUCK-HUNT]

That needs to make its way into a book of some sorts !!

Hahaha lol!!

[DUCKAHOLIC]

EPIC

[Deadeye]

Are you serious Clark? This really happened? The bird hit the power line?

One story I've never heard... classic.

[greenheadgrimreaper]

Serious as a heart attack..

[timberhunter]

Well ol' buddy I couldn't have told the story any better myself. I emailed you the pics so these boys can grasp the true definition of the smell of fried turkey breast at day break.

[bhuggins]

Somebody move this to the main board. I would hate for ANYBODY to miss out on this. Great story.

[kevinw]

Holy Crap!!! Just when you think you have heard it all.

[tombstone]

TTT for a great read!!!

[timberhunter]

Here are a few pics of the tragic event...

[LawDawg]

that's incredible.

[Morris1]

Best I have ever heard!!!!! Wish he had it on video!