redbeard Posted October 19, 2005 Report Share Posted October 19, 2005 Just might be a good title for Redbeard’s latest adventure chasing the three toed critter we call wild turkey. But so would, “Tommy’s Revenge of Tammy” or “Tammy, the Transforming Gobblin’ Jake” or perhaps “Livin’ Large with the Infamous “Hickok Boyz of Candor, New York. One title I thought about coming down one of North Carolina’s steep arse mountains when my front wheel bearings went south and caused the front end to tilt to and fro giving a pucker factor of about 6 of 10 to ol’ Redbeard, as he fought violently to keep the sucker upright and stopped could have been, “Redbeard’s Last Ride”. Dang crap happened three times and threw me into the oncoming lane last two of the times on roads with more curves than Pamela Anderson. Good Lord was watching out for me all three times, it’s a fact. Luckily, I came across an ol’ hippy biker in Cherokee NC who had some new bearings and he fixed me up lickety split. Still, I think my teeth are an eighth inch shorter and my grip a might stronger due to those last 100 miles. So here’s the tale of Tammy’s demise. For those who may not watch the weather channel, Tammy was the tropical storm that dumped rain on me all the way up to Candor. All the way, I just kept thinking about that nice warm Chevy back at home but my thoughts and mind wanderings of those who lived in a time I yearn for, kept me trudging on. Ol’ Woodrow and Augustus had it plenty worse in Lonesome Dove, for certain. Saved a lot of gas money and you always meet the nicest folks when traveling on a Harley. All kinds of folks, from old men to little ol’ lady’s will come up and talk to you, but when in a car you can’t get the time of day. I met a nice older woman from Texas who asked me to hang around while she filled up, because she was scared of some boys hanging around the station. Always bumfuzzles me, I don’t exactly look invitin’ on a gas stop with wind blown beard and hair, but they must trust the Harley ethic of helping others when you can. Met another fine gentlemen in Winchester, VA who asked my destination and after finding out I was heading to Candor NY to hunt turkeys, I came to find out he’d hunted the same region many times. Tell ‘em ol’ Jack said hi, as I pulled out. Big ol two fingered brut of a man who’d seen his better day, nice as all get out to me, his personalized tag said HIJACK. Bet he’d been a hoot to sit around a campfire with. On the third day, I was a white boy humpin’ and ah getting’ it up Highway 81, doing about that in speed too, when I hit a bridge that was about 6 inches higher than the road and caused quite a jolt. I just kept on gittin’ it. About five miles up the road, here a car starts flashing their headlights and pulled along side, pointing frantically towards the back of my bike. I hit the shoulder right quick like, they did the same. They tell me my back bag came off when I hit that abutment and told me where I could find it. I thanked them immensely and took the first emergency u-turn I came to. Sure enough, there it lay, about 600.00 dollars worth of stuff in it and one pint of Jim Beam. I surely knew that bottle was busted for sure. Lucky for me, it wasn’t and nothing got broke. Bungeed it back on and took off for the last 100 miles. Somewhat wet but not soaked, I arrived just in time to a grand welcome by Pete Clare and J.T. Byrne. Never felt so welcomed north of the Mason-Dixie line, than I did that day at Turkey Trot Acres. After firm handshakes of introduction, I was greeted with a “Hickok” drink which warmed my soul and lightened the load. We sat down a little later to one of the finest meals every created, no doubt. More “Hickok” followed accompanied by many a laugh. Dang fine establishment, that Turkey Trot Acres. First class all the way. Morning came quickly with the smell of breakfast seeping though the cabin floors. Eating fine again. Big hearty steak and egg with hash browns served up right. No big hurry with this fall hunting. After the dogs were loaded, off we went. The sun had definitely forgotten about New York those days and never returned the whole stay. Nevertheless, we all know how those turkeys love farm land when it’s damp. And I’m here to tell ya, New York farming looks good to me. Beautiful farms, absolutely gorgeous, all meticulously maintained and worked by sons of founding fathers. We hadn’t gone far until the lead truck radioed spotting nearly 150 turkeys in the lower field of Mark’s farm. We all did a u’ey and pulled into the barn. Off we went, gonna get to see my first fall flock busted by the dogs trained by the famous Byrne’s Appalachian Turkey dogs father and son team. We could see about 15 to 20 young birds in the corner and they were woods bound. Evidently the scent of that big group of larger birds was strong in the air and the dogs run clean around the field and finally up the wooded hillside and turkeys went to flying every which away. Dogs ah barking, wing flaps big time. Sailin’ turkeys’ right over our heads was a grand sight to see. Also a grand feelin’ and respect for the men I was hunting with as not one attempt of an easy shot on one large hen directly over us was made. This hunt was gonna be done right. Bust and bark, call and shoot. Wasn’t too long before J.T. called in a young hen for his hunter and the first one was down, three to go. Now, this being my first fall hunt, I was accustomed to so much calling but ol’ Pete wasn’t shy a bit. Kee Keeing and yelping on a long box without abandon. At Pete’s encouragement, I pulled out a call or two, tried the keekee run on the strumpet, and even yelped a few times on Dad’s Ivory Trumpet. All the while, Mr. Pete just ah workin’ that high pitched long box. Wasn’t long before we spied a gobbler sneaking down the hillside. Dang, if he didn’t catch me raising my mask, he saw something he didn’t like. That smart bugger tree walked all the way outta them woods. J.T. noticed three or more turkeys getting together and set the dogs loose again, barking and bustin’, the order of the day. We changed our setup further towards the top and got a fine hemlock to lean up against. Love those hemlocks, although the overcast day and those low hanging branches make for a shady day. Ol’ Pete working the box again and I suppose an hour passed before we heard our jake kee keein’ back to his calling. Ol’ Pete just kicked it up a notch and dang if that ol’ boy didn’t go to gobblin and struttin’. I can see him now, 42 yards out and fannin’. I know I saw a white head, just know it. Never saw any beard but these were young and tender birds we were workin’. Ol Steve gets on the horn and asked Pete if that was us gobblin or a turkey. Excitement was buildin’ boys. Steve went to gobblin’ back at the bird for his hunter some 60-100 yards up the hill from the bird. I’m whispering to Pete to tell him to quit calling on that radio, scarted big-time that turkey was gonna catch on and do some leaving. He just kept going from one side of the tree to the other. I’m countin’ trees trying to estimate yardage. I’m thinkin’ 45, too far for me but he looked so close. Finally, Pete called off Steve as the bird was closer to us and Pete starting movin’ that box around and I guess that got the bird thinkin’ she was leaving. All I know is I only saw one turkey the whole time and when that bad boy came from around that tree and got to my forty yard mark, I let ‘er rip. Like I say, it was mighty shady up that way. Hellfire, I’m tickled to death, stay seated to watch everything real good, don’t see no flopping. Pete says, did ya get it, I say, don’t know and hauled butt up there. I see the bird and dadgum if that Tommy ain’t turned right into a Tammy. Surprised Pete more that me. Oh well, I was happy, I wanted a hen anyway. During those three days of cycling in the rain, I muttered more than once, I’m gonna shoot a hen and name her Tammy. Well, that’s what I did too. Got one fine young wing bone set to remind me of the hunt forever, I did. Shamefully, the shot busted her other set. We rounded out that day coming off a New York mountain side and I was rewarded with the grandest view of all. A gorgeous farm framed in oaks and hemlocks. And me standing there, with a slung bird, don’t get any better than that. All told, I suppose about 6 birds were called in and two got too close. The remaining two days were spent cementing new friendships with J.T., Pete, and Steve. I feel sure J.T. and I will tramps some woods again, and perhaps also ride our Harleys up and around those mountains he farms. I know I will see ol’ Pete and his most gracious wife Sherrie that, by the way, can cook up a storm and is pretty too boot. The whole crew ended up with bird that week with Slavo rounding out the hunt with his first ever wild turkey. Pete, J.T. and I clinked the beers in celebration at his success. Thumbs up all around. Great crowd, that Turkey Trot Acres. Get you some. The “Hickok”, food, and friendships are worth more than price of admission alone. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Rhino Posted October 19, 2005 Report Share Posted October 19, 2005 Re: Rode Hard and Put Up Wet............... Great story redbeard. Looks like you might need to strap down that bag better next time. Might want to pack them bearings before takin the next trip too for insurance. Could have been a disaster. Don't want the good Lord to take you yet. Congrats on baggin Tammy even though she only gave ya one good wingbone. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Shaun_300 Posted October 19, 2005 Report Share Posted October 19, 2005 Re: Rode Hard and Put Up Wet............... What a great story redbeard, I really enjoyed reading that! Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Squirrelhunter91 Posted October 19, 2005 Report Share Posted October 19, 2005 Re: Rode Hard and Put Up Wet............... You replay some awesome stories redbeard! I shot my first turkey on Oct. 5th, right here in NY.. lol.. Where exactly is Candor,NY? Is it way up in the Adirondacks? Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
HeviShot Posted October 20, 2005 Report Share Posted October 20, 2005 Re: Rode Hard and Put Up Wet............... GREAT STORY! Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Ravin R10 man Posted October 20, 2005 Report Share Posted October 20, 2005 Re: Rode Hard and Put Up Wet............... Just had to read your story with a title like that!!! Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
redbeard Posted October 20, 2005 Author Report Share Posted October 20, 2005 Re: Rode Hard and Put Up Wet............... [ QUOTE ] Great story redbeard. Looks like you might need to strap down that bag better next time. Might want to pack them bearings before takin the next trip too for insurance. Could have been a disaster. Don't want the good Lord to take you yet. Congrats on baggin Tammy even though she only gave ya one good wingbone. [/ QUOTE ] Now Rhino I ain't that carefree Truth is the bike had it's 50K service done the week before and when cleaning it, I found the front wheel to have side to side play so I took it back and they said it was fixed. I trusted them........a mistake I won't make again. The bag was another deal. It was standard equipment and evidently the straps have been wearing all along, that last jolt just finished the straps off but good. I was very lucky for the good samaritian. Squirrel, Candor is in between Elmira and Binginton(sp). Beautiful farmland. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Nut Posted October 21, 2005 Report Share Posted October 21, 2005 Re: Rode Hard and Put Up Wet............... Congrats and great story Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Squirrelhunter91 Posted October 23, 2005 Report Share Posted October 23, 2005 Re: Rode Hard and Put Up Wet............... Oh ok.. That is way up there for me.. lol.. Must have been some trip for you, can tell by your story.. You should have stopped by here on your way up... Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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