squirrel
Well-known member
- Joined
- Dec 29, 2013
- Messages
- 696
This year I packed up my camo, soaked in permethrin, and headed off sixteen hours of solo driving away. I pulled in exhausted with my lab Cody at around midnight and slept as if dead until my alarm went off at 4:30, made my coffee and went to a great spot for morning listening. As the eastern sky lightened a bit I was no disappointed as the ridge across from me erupted with gobbles from all over. Ditching the coffee I pulled on my gear and went straight at them. A bit of huffing and puffing caused me to be a few minutes late and they were off the roost before I got in position, but still gobbling pretty good not far away.
I settled in and for an hour or so called sporadically without any response except for them gobbling back at me. I called in 4 hens and after I was positive they had moved off I moved to re-position. Of course they were just barely out of sight and spooked with lots of putting and flapping of wings. It was a stupid mistake I have made a hundred times before. I moved only seventy five yards as I didn’t want to compound my error, found a perfect spot and snuggled in amongst the branches and ticks. The gobbling was non -stop from just 150 yards away, but they would only answer my calls without coming any closer. I knew the open hardwood flat would not allow me to move any closer to them so I broke out several more of my home-made box calls and tried to make them think I was the group of hens I had just blown out of the point I was on. It drove them crazy with desirousness for my sexy talk but they would not budge from their perfect strutting flat.
After an hour or so I was having issues with dozing off and they had made it quite clear they were not about to close the distance from their end, I wanted a slug of coffee. I carefully reached down and into my day pack for the thermos I had put there.
As I was slowly unscrewing the cap I heard a rustle in the leaves directly ahead of me. Looking up I saw a bobcat running at full speed about 15 feet ahead of me, his ears were pinned back and he had a snarl on his lips. He looked about like those lions in the “Ghost and the Darkness” movie, only bigger, meaner, and more bloodthirsty. He hit the ground for the final pounce about 5 feet in front of me, and came straight for my head. I let out a manly “Hulk Hogan” bellow and prepared to defend myself hand-to-hand. It is entirely possible that a neutral observer might refer to this sound as a “terrified school girl scream” but there were no neutral observers anywhere nearby so I am sticking with a manly bellow as the official story…
Anyway I swung my thermos at him as his eyes got really wide as he realized at the last second what he was attacking. He veered off his head-hunting course in mid-air, like only a cat can do, and whizzed over my left shoulder, he missed my head by about 6”, and I missed hitting him with my “manly-Stanley” thermos by about the same. By the time I could roll around and look he was gone, quick as a cat.
A few minutes later I was pouring a cup of coffee from my cat-killer thermos and spilled it all over my lap my hands were shaking so much from the 80 degree cold. My turkey hunting was over also, something about the manly bellow I should guess…
He who laughs last being the winner I showed that silly cat. About a week later I was sitting there listening for a gobble and here came Mr. Bobcat slipping along, being a cat. He never knew I was there until I hissed loudly at him from about 5 yards away. He went from thinking of turkey dinner to a brown streak in about one body length, leaving me shaking again, this time from laughing, and this time I didn’t need to change my drawers. It may, or may not have been, the same cat, as he appeared to me to have dropped about 500 lbs or so since he zipped over my shoulder.
I settled in and for an hour or so called sporadically without any response except for them gobbling back at me. I called in 4 hens and after I was positive they had moved off I moved to re-position. Of course they were just barely out of sight and spooked with lots of putting and flapping of wings. It was a stupid mistake I have made a hundred times before. I moved only seventy five yards as I didn’t want to compound my error, found a perfect spot and snuggled in amongst the branches and ticks. The gobbling was non -stop from just 150 yards away, but they would only answer my calls without coming any closer. I knew the open hardwood flat would not allow me to move any closer to them so I broke out several more of my home-made box calls and tried to make them think I was the group of hens I had just blown out of the point I was on. It drove them crazy with desirousness for my sexy talk but they would not budge from their perfect strutting flat.
After an hour or so I was having issues with dozing off and they had made it quite clear they were not about to close the distance from their end, I wanted a slug of coffee. I carefully reached down and into my day pack for the thermos I had put there.
As I was slowly unscrewing the cap I heard a rustle in the leaves directly ahead of me. Looking up I saw a bobcat running at full speed about 15 feet ahead of me, his ears were pinned back and he had a snarl on his lips. He looked about like those lions in the “Ghost and the Darkness” movie, only bigger, meaner, and more bloodthirsty. He hit the ground for the final pounce about 5 feet in front of me, and came straight for my head. I let out a manly “Hulk Hogan” bellow and prepared to defend myself hand-to-hand. It is entirely possible that a neutral observer might refer to this sound as a “terrified school girl scream” but there were no neutral observers anywhere nearby so I am sticking with a manly bellow as the official story…
Anyway I swung my thermos at him as his eyes got really wide as he realized at the last second what he was attacking. He veered off his head-hunting course in mid-air, like only a cat can do, and whizzed over my left shoulder, he missed my head by about 6”, and I missed hitting him with my “manly-Stanley” thermos by about the same. By the time I could roll around and look he was gone, quick as a cat.
A few minutes later I was pouring a cup of coffee from my cat-killer thermos and spilled it all over my lap my hands were shaking so much from the 80 degree cold. My turkey hunting was over also, something about the manly bellow I should guess…
He who laughs last being the winner I showed that silly cat. About a week later I was sitting there listening for a gobble and here came Mr. Bobcat slipping along, being a cat. He never knew I was there until I hissed loudly at him from about 5 yards away. He went from thinking of turkey dinner to a brown streak in about one body length, leaving me shaking again, this time from laughing, and this time I didn’t need to change my drawers. It may, or may not have been, the same cat, as he appeared to me to have dropped about 500 lbs or so since he zipped over my shoulder.
