"Float Row"
Now that’s a name that conjures up thoughts of Anderson Tully floating out a million or two board feet of pecan, persimmon, hackberry, and ash after WWII. I was hunting with Mr. Jack on Ashbrook Island for the last 3 days that we would ever hunt on his beloved Island. It was acutually the first 3 days of the season that year, but they were the last because the Island was being sold. Mr. Jack introduced me to turkey hunting there in 1975 on a fall hunt. “When you get to camp, walk out behind the camp on the road going east until you see the old abandoned black truck. Start your hunt there.” Did just that that fall afternoon, walked into a flock of about 20 birds and killed my first gobbler. Mr. Jack I believe knew where every gobbler was on those 8000 acres. He certainly knew where the gobblers were that last spring A.M. that I hunted there. In fact, he and Mr. Roy had openend the season early that year and each killed a nice gobbler out of the group since it was their last few days. I say group because it was, and probably will ever be, the largest group of mature birds I have ever listened to at the beginning of a turkey season. Mr. Jack let his son in law, and myself out where a road crossed float row on the west end. From there the float row ran east into Paradise Lake. Mr. Jack said “Gregg, you go down the north side and John you go down the south. Go down until you hit um. They are there.” It was starting to turn light when I got my gear together and headed east on the south side of float row. Jack had loaned me his 30" full choke 870 since I blew a bulge in my Browning over and under. That duck hunting incident was due to reloads. Caused the thing to shoot 15 inches high at 35 yards. Did not want to do that on a fine gobbler. - Put 5 - 3'’ shells in the 870 and headed east. I walked a long way and I still had not heard the group of birds. Mr. Jack said they were there, so I kept walking. The water was up from Paradise, and the farther that I walked, the wider float row was to the other side. When I heard the first gobble, I was almost to Paradise and it was a good 150 yards to the other side. I could not see the far bank. I suppose the taking of 2 of their comrades pushed them that far to Paradise. I could tell from their gobbling that they were already on the ground on the far side of float row. Great!!! My chances of killing a bird that A.M. lay in the fact that my buddy was going to shoot into them any minute, and one would fly my way. Slim pickens. Well, I walked over to a big ash tree about 4 ft. at the base and sat down. They started up in earnest then. I estimated that from one end of the gobbling to the other was a good 150 yards. As wide as float row was at that point. And OH what gobbling. Had to be at least 25 mature birds with a flock of hens. When one would gobble, it would set of the rest gobbling for what seemed like a minute. I plopped a single reed Penn’s Woods mouth call in my mouth and waited for Greg to shoot. I waited for 45 minutes listening to the finest gobbling session I will ever hear in my lifetime. Every once in a while I would join in with my high pitch mouth call that sounded more like a song bird than a raspy old hen. Had Jack’s 870 propped against the tree and had gotten really comfortable but lamenting the fact that I was on the wrong side. I had no sooner made a series of yelps on that mouth call when I look directly across float row from me and there is not one but two long beards sailing across to my side. I reach for the 870 while they are in the air. They land to my left at about 50 yards next to the water and take a couple of steps my way. Since I was not blinded up. I am wide open to them and they spot me, turning to trot to my left. I pull the trigger and the closest bird goes down. I finally get the 870 pumped, that I am not used to. He has gotten up and is starting to fly. I shoot again and he goes down. I pump and shoot again as he starts to run, and it does not phase him. He is 70 yards by this time, and I am in a sprint with this longbeard. I believe that I am gaining, so I pull up and fire #4 shell. I miss. I keep running. I gain enough on him that he notices it and makes the fatal mistake of changing coarse directly in front of me. I shoot at 35 yards and end the chase. I walk over, pick up a fine Ashbrook gobbler with an 11 inch. beard and then I hear Greg. He is on my side and past where Jack let us out. He is shooting a special 20 ga. Savage double with a rifle underneath. BOOM - BOOM - KERPOW. Later he tells me he walked a long ways, did not hear them, and went back on my side the other way. Said after I shot 5 times he sees this turkey coming from my direction running like a scalded dog. And NO he did not get him. I believe he shot at 5 turkeys over those 3 days and did not kill one. --- Mr. Jack is no longer with the tenth legion, but he gave me a lot more than that turkey
