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TheFlyingFatMan
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Name: Grant
Gender: Male
Interests: Airplanes, the outdoors, my awesome friends, detailing vehicles, handguns, sniper rifles, sporting clays, softball, landscaping, helping girls, throwing candy at people, food, being the best I can be.
Expertise: Bein' a high tech redneck
Occupation: Landscape installation/mainten
Message: message me
AIM:  Lostboy47268
Member Since:
4/18/2006
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| Monday morning I walk past mom on the way to the food room, and I hear a rather alarmed and agitated GRANT! I TOLD YOU NOT TO CUT IT THAT SHORT AGAIN!!! After the ringing in my ears subsided, and further insults and degrading comments sounded, I made a comment something like this, "What am I supposed to do about it, take my head off?" Mom: "Well I'd like to right about now!" Tut tut, getting all worked up over something so trivial...that just took 6 months off your life.
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| Sunday evening Andrew and I were IM'ing each other, and through the course of the conversation, we decided to meet at an early hour of 5:30AM at his place, and together we would march southward to face the thunderous gobblers perched in the lofty limbs of the cottonwood trees he had located Sunday evening. As soon as this decision was made, I hastily taped over the bright white Benelli lettering decals and stock on my Benelli Supernova, grabbed my camo gloves, mask, overalls, shirt, and jacket. Carefully stocking my packs and tieing up loose ends on straps so they wouldn't flap in the wind, I got all my gear ready to grab and run out the door in the morning. Then, I hit the hay.
5:00 rolled around pretty quickly, and I roused myself, ate a bowl of cereal, threw my stuff in the truck, and met Andrew at his house as he donned his boots, hat, and gloves. Soon Winston, our videographer (who had already filled his turkey tags for the year), showed up, and we hit the woods. Andrew, our host and guide, led the pack followed by myself, with Winston trailing. We quickly made our way along the creek bed while they neighbor's dog kept the arrogant fowl in stitches with its barking. With each rash of foul language from the dog came an equally fowl response with a thunderous gobble or three. We soon came about as close as we thought was safe to set up without being busted. Winston and I set up a hen and jake decoy in a small clearing, while Andrew situated himself behind a fallen log. Once they were set, Winston took cover, and I set up about 4 yards West of Andrew with a view through some limbs to the decoys, and the game was on!
As the sky slowly lightened, we basked in the crisp, clean air, and the commanding replies of the gobblers every time I let out a few yelps and putts. Soon I saw one, then two, then three turkeys flying down into the alfalfa field across the fence to our right. They strutted and answered to every call, then disappeared behind the trees for a bit. All of a sudden, I spotted them coming right along the fence line 50 yards away. I quickly whispered to Andrew the latest intelligence from the surveillance branch, and he spun the turret and pointed the direction of approach. The two toms came at a trot, then stopped when they saw the decoys in the trees. One strutted wildly while the other merely tagged along seemingly quite comfortable in his own manhood. We watched as they eyed the decoys for a while not wanting to flirt with them enough to hop the fence. I made several soft yelps with my mouth call, causing the strutting tom to stick his head high in the air looking for the source, only to be met with 17/8 oz. of Remington #5 lead shot from Andrew's super full-choked Remington 870 Express magnum 12 GA.(Actually Winston's, but Andrew was using it) The other tom, understandably somewhat alarmed at the loud noise, and mad at his buddy for being such a wuss when it comes to loud noises that he immediately faints, trotted around putting loudly and staring at his wiggling partner and adversary on the ground. At Andrew's urging, I raised the Supernova to my shoulder and lined up with the head of the second turkey, only to realize that in my excitement, I exhaled, and my mask sent the warm air right to my glasses fogging them up nicely. Moving my head slightly to get a good look at the turkey, I saw he was stopped, so I did my best to keep the location and sight of the turkey's head, and shot instinctively where its head was, and squeezed off the shot hoping that I was as good of an instinctive shot as I thought I was. Apparently it worked, because he, too, "fainted" when he heard the bark of the 12 GA Supernova.
Andrew and I jumped to our feet, high fived each other, and let out a few whoops in celebration. Winston soon joined us, high fived, and began filming again. We recapped the events of the morning, had our own little awkward "professional hunter after successful kill speech," then headed for the truck.
Thank you Andrew and Nate for inviting me to join you on this awesome hunt, Winston for videoing the hunt, and God for making such cool critters to hunt and the beautiful outdoors to do it in!
This is my first turkey, and I've already gotten another tag for bird #2! mine had a 9.25" beard and 1 2/8", and 1 1/8" spurs. I used Remington Nitro Turkey 3" #5 shot buffered loads, and they dropped 'em like a ton of bricks at 30-35 yards.
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| Today marked a new period of my life, the start of landscaping season! I worked my first day of the season for my boss today in Sterling. The day's work consisted of cutting down and hauling off a very large Bradford Pear tree from a local man's yard, followed by lots of raking and cleaning up of twigs, then planting 2 new red oaks. We spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning up and hauling branches at my boss's place still, left from the ice storm.
The main reason for the post is to show you the vehicle that I hauled branches with. This is an inherited dump truck from his parents I believe. This is a 1953 Chevrolet 4100 dump truck that still runs like a top. I think someone should restore it. It's a 4 speed in an H pattern with reverse to the far left and down. It has a foot starter, and has a pull-out knob for the choke and the throttle.
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