Fred's Knife Works
Custom Knives, Sporting Goods & Everything Turkey
Salute To An Old Pro
Above Doyle Loadholtz my old turkey hunting partner before Jeff. Doyle had a stroke a few years back and is now confined to his living quarters for the most part. He gets about with a walker. Doyle was one of the best natural mouth callers I know of. When hunting with him it was hard to determine if you were in the woods with another hunter or a real turkey hen! This is a salute to him, who by the way never carried a gun (unless carrying mine while I carried the tom out of the woods) in the turkey woods. He just wanted to Bingo as he called it, have a close encounter with some turkeys!
Turkey chasin had been an addiction for some eight years when I thought I had become somewhat of an expert or master at the game, until the 90-91 spring gobbler season here in Florida came to be.
I had taken my limit of adult gobblers for 7 of those 8 years. I had a feeling of confidence about myself. Why the folk at work even called me the "Turkey Man". I had met a new acquaintance through Turkey Hunter Magazine by the name of Doyle Loadholtz residing in Quincy Illinois at the time. Another turkey chaser of course, but not just another hunter! No, to say the least, he was a man quite unique in his huntin & callin abilities. I soon found out that he could call unquestionably great & cause many old toms to do a 180 and come runnin. Why he can even sound like a trio of gobblers about to duke it out for some sexy hen.
His favorite call you ask? His natural mouth. "No sense in carrying around all that extra weight" he says. And that's for good reason as he is no little man like myself. The thing is, even with his size (around 300) he becomes invisible at times. It seems to me he has this uncanny ability to blend in as he calls it. I call it flat out disappearing! Together we have been in the swampy woods of northern Florida, the mountains of Virginia & Maryland and Illinois. He has always been on my heels or ahead of me. Its been said that I can keep up with the best of them (except maybe Ralph Bettenbender now residing in Maywood, MO.) Ralph has real long legs. However any pre-conceived worries I had concerning Doyle and his size were quickly put to rest, watching him scale one steep mountain ridge in Virginia. When asked why he hunts without a gun Doyle simply states "I have taken my share already" , and I don't doubt him. Says he just enjoys helping others & watching their enthusiasm, especially beginners & handicapped people like myself. (Handicapped compared to him ). Doyle states he just enjoys outwitting them ole long beards, and listening to the music that only gobblers can provide. (Exceptions given to freakish hens).
One of the most pleasurable aspects of being acquainted with Doyle is that when he tells you something, you can take it to the bank! If he says he is going to be somewhere or meet you somewhere at a given time, all I can say is be there, or be left behind! Yes there was no telling where you might find Doyle come gobbling time, as he traveled most of the turkey populated states. Giving seminars on calling turkeys or guiding other hunters. He was also a professional guide while in Illinois. Doyle made his home among tail feathers, long beards, spurs & droppings. Anywhere turkey tracks could be found. At the time of this original writing his home was Lake City, Florida. Doyle now resides in the Ocala Florida area.
One early balmy morning in the north Florida piney woods we had met together at a favorite spot in the Osceola National Forest. Doyle says the turkeys here are as wary and tough as any you will hunt in the USA, and he's been around. For this hunt however I had done my homework and knew almost to the tree where the ole tom was roosted. We moved in. This was to be our first real hunt together since our meeting through Turkey Hunter magazine. At first light, making our way we stopped for a breather and gave a hoot. Gobble, gobble, gobble came the reply. The tom was hot! As it got lighter this ole toms gobbling increased steadily. We eased closer, the gobbles coming at a machine gun pace. Doyle and I had set up on a logging road that ran parallel to the cypress swamp the tom called home.(These woods contain mostly pine & cypress with scattered scrub oaks, bay, sweet-gum and red maple.) Turkeys here like to roost over water due to the high predator population of fox, raccoon and bobcat. There are even a few panthers in the area.
Doyle set up 75-100 yards behind me. We had not discussed before the hunt who would call, so Doyle, not wanting to interfere with my expert calling abilities (ha), remained silent so that he wouldn't mess me up! (Ha!) Everything was going just great, sky turning pink, gobbler gettin hotter by the minute, and we were set up 100 yds from the roost on one of the toms favorite travel routes. I announced my location to the tom with a series of soft tree yelps. Next I gave my imitation of a fly down with my jacket & pants leg. The tom gobbled so hard, I began to pray he would shut up, for surely any hunter within a mile was going to be coming. Finally the ole tom pitched off the limb, landing no more than 80 yds from my gun barrel. Just out of sight around a slight curve in the logging rd. I heard his feet hit the ground, or was that the hen he landed on? I made a scratching sound in the pine straw. Gave a soft 5 yelp series and steadied myself. I thought that tom was coming un-glued! The tom gobbled himself into a frenzy all the while closing the gap. My heart pounding expecting to see his patriotic head any second. Trying to steady my gun, closer & closer he came. Every time I thought he was about to round the curve, he would back step 20 or so yards, to a T intersection in the road just round the curve. Back & forth he went expecting that hen to show up at any moment. (Reversing nature isn't always easy). But this hen was now in a state of semi-shock, having gone through several sets of convulsions, my southern most parts were numb and my legs asleep. I could hear him spittin & drummin. (sounded like he was spittin anyway). Them wing tips will do that! If there were any skeeters on me, I couldn't say as the tom had un-ended every nerve in my body. Many times all I needed was one yelp (from Doyle) and that ole tom would of been in my lap, but that big palmetto bush behind me named Doyle remained silent expecting to hear the report of my gun at any moment. Suddenly I caught movement off to my right. Not good as the sun was that direction now, and I am also right handed. (wrong direction for an easy correct to get on target). The old tom had taken a breather from gobbling and had managed to sneak down an old cattle trail. My gun to the left, my butt & lets numb, my nerves shot you can probably guess what happened next. It was now 0900! I tried to get my feet under me ( Should have listened to Doyle and taken a standing position in these thick palmetto's ) I ever so slowly eased my gun to the right. Well, you guessed it, Tom caught me and like a rocket became airborne. Boooom went the sound of my gun, and I didn't cut a feather! How can something so big, get so gone so fast? Actually I was kinda relieved to see that sucker get gone because if he had not left when he did, rigermortis would have set in!
Doyle came walking up to me and said" Son, I've been huntin turkey some 50 yrs and never , ever have I heard a turkey gobble like that one! He gobbled 550 times, I counted em"! So as I was scratching my head and trying to get my circulation going again, Doyle says " Want to call him back up?" I says, " Can you do that?" Doyle says " Sometimes, we can sure try" . I had my reservations about it and figured that tom to be in the next county by now.
So we set up a couple hundred yards in the direction he flew and this time I told Doyle to talk turkey and when he had finished with his first series of calls, I had just had my first real lesson from a real pro. Why he was so convincing I kept glancing over my shoulder trying to see if some hen was pulling the sneak on me. I learned that if you are ever blessed enough to accompany a caller of Doyle's caliber, you had better keep him real close as that tom is likely to get by you going to the other hen. ( Your pro companion). And you won't have to be looking over your shoulder as much. Less movement! If your in woods like ours, take the standing position and you might just get to see him come in. Well Doyle called that ole tom right back in and I was so intent on taking that careful aim, that I let that ole tom walk right by and never squeezed the trigger! So I got up and walked over to where I left Doyle and he was gone! He was in plain sight of me and left without a sound, all 300 pounds of him! Go figure! Probably left questioning my turkey taking ability. I finally got back up with Doyle. He was patient and hardly ever get upset. ( At least in the turkey woods, ask his wife Phyllis). He says he's hunting with me cause he doesn't carry a gun and I hardly ever use mine! More peaceful in the woods he says. He says I just like to scare the heck of em and watch em fly! May you all be blessed at least once in your lifetime with a hunting partner like Doyle Loadholtz. ( I have now been blessed with two (Doyle & Jeff).
I had taken my limit of adult gobblers for 7 of those 8 years. I had a feeling of confidence about myself. Why the folk at work even called me the "Turkey Man". I had met a new acquaintance through Turkey Hunter Magazine by the name of Doyle Loadholtz residing in Quincy Illinois at the time. Another turkey chaser of course, but not just another hunter! No, to say the least, he was a man quite unique in his huntin & callin abilities. I soon found out that he could call unquestionably great & cause many old toms to do a 180 and come runnin. Why he can even sound like a trio of gobblers about to duke it out for some sexy hen.
His favorite call you ask? His natural mouth. "No sense in carrying around all that extra weight" he says. And that's for good reason as he is no little man like myself. The thing is, even with his size (around 300) he becomes invisible at times. It seems to me he has this uncanny ability to blend in as he calls it. I call it flat out disappearing! Together we have been in the swampy woods of northern Florida, the mountains of Virginia & Maryland and Illinois. He has always been on my heels or ahead of me. Its been said that I can keep up with the best of them (except maybe Ralph Bettenbender now residing in Maywood, MO.) Ralph has real long legs. However any pre-conceived worries I had concerning Doyle and his size were quickly put to rest, watching him scale one steep mountain ridge in Virginia. When asked why he hunts without a gun Doyle simply states "I have taken my share already" , and I don't doubt him. Says he just enjoys helping others & watching their enthusiasm, especially beginners & handicapped people like myself. (Handicapped compared to him ). Doyle states he just enjoys outwitting them ole long beards, and listening to the music that only gobblers can provide. (Exceptions given to freakish hens).
One of the most pleasurable aspects of being acquainted with Doyle is that when he tells you something, you can take it to the bank! If he says he is going to be somewhere or meet you somewhere at a given time, all I can say is be there, or be left behind! Yes there was no telling where you might find Doyle come gobbling time, as he traveled most of the turkey populated states. Giving seminars on calling turkeys or guiding other hunters. He was also a professional guide while in Illinois. Doyle made his home among tail feathers, long beards, spurs & droppings. Anywhere turkey tracks could be found. At the time of this original writing his home was Lake City, Florida. Doyle now resides in the Ocala Florida area.
One early balmy morning in the north Florida piney woods we had met together at a favorite spot in the Osceola National Forest. Doyle says the turkeys here are as wary and tough as any you will hunt in the USA, and he's been around. For this hunt however I had done my homework and knew almost to the tree where the ole tom was roosted. We moved in. This was to be our first real hunt together since our meeting through Turkey Hunter magazine. At first light, making our way we stopped for a breather and gave a hoot. Gobble, gobble, gobble came the reply. The tom was hot! As it got lighter this ole toms gobbling increased steadily. We eased closer, the gobbles coming at a machine gun pace. Doyle and I had set up on a logging road that ran parallel to the cypress swamp the tom called home.(These woods contain mostly pine & cypress with scattered scrub oaks, bay, sweet-gum and red maple.) Turkeys here like to roost over water due to the high predator population of fox, raccoon and bobcat. There are even a few panthers in the area.
Doyle set up 75-100 yards behind me. We had not discussed before the hunt who would call, so Doyle, not wanting to interfere with my expert calling abilities (ha), remained silent so that he wouldn't mess me up! (Ha!) Everything was going just great, sky turning pink, gobbler gettin hotter by the minute, and we were set up 100 yds from the roost on one of the toms favorite travel routes. I announced my location to the tom with a series of soft tree yelps. Next I gave my imitation of a fly down with my jacket & pants leg. The tom gobbled so hard, I began to pray he would shut up, for surely any hunter within a mile was going to be coming. Finally the ole tom pitched off the limb, landing no more than 80 yds from my gun barrel. Just out of sight around a slight curve in the logging rd. I heard his feet hit the ground, or was that the hen he landed on? I made a scratching sound in the pine straw. Gave a soft 5 yelp series and steadied myself. I thought that tom was coming un-glued! The tom gobbled himself into a frenzy all the while closing the gap. My heart pounding expecting to see his patriotic head any second. Trying to steady my gun, closer & closer he came. Every time I thought he was about to round the curve, he would back step 20 or so yards, to a T intersection in the road just round the curve. Back & forth he went expecting that hen to show up at any moment. (Reversing nature isn't always easy). But this hen was now in a state of semi-shock, having gone through several sets of convulsions, my southern most parts were numb and my legs asleep. I could hear him spittin & drummin. (sounded like he was spittin anyway). Them wing tips will do that! If there were any skeeters on me, I couldn't say as the tom had un-ended every nerve in my body. Many times all I needed was one yelp (from Doyle) and that ole tom would of been in my lap, but that big palmetto bush behind me named Doyle remained silent expecting to hear the report of my gun at any moment. Suddenly I caught movement off to my right. Not good as the sun was that direction now, and I am also right handed. (wrong direction for an easy correct to get on target). The old tom had taken a breather from gobbling and had managed to sneak down an old cattle trail. My gun to the left, my butt & lets numb, my nerves shot you can probably guess what happened next. It was now 0900! I tried to get my feet under me ( Should have listened to Doyle and taken a standing position in these thick palmetto's ) I ever so slowly eased my gun to the right. Well, you guessed it, Tom caught me and like a rocket became airborne. Boooom went the sound of my gun, and I didn't cut a feather! How can something so big, get so gone so fast? Actually I was kinda relieved to see that sucker get gone because if he had not left when he did, rigermortis would have set in!
Doyle came walking up to me and said" Son, I've been huntin turkey some 50 yrs and never , ever have I heard a turkey gobble like that one! He gobbled 550 times, I counted em"! So as I was scratching my head and trying to get my circulation going again, Doyle says " Want to call him back up?" I says, " Can you do that?" Doyle says " Sometimes, we can sure try" . I had my reservations about it and figured that tom to be in the next county by now.
So we set up a couple hundred yards in the direction he flew and this time I told Doyle to talk turkey and when he had finished with his first series of calls, I had just had my first real lesson from a real pro. Why he was so convincing I kept glancing over my shoulder trying to see if some hen was pulling the sneak on me. I learned that if you are ever blessed enough to accompany a caller of Doyle's caliber, you had better keep him real close as that tom is likely to get by you going to the other hen. ( Your pro companion). And you won't have to be looking over your shoulder as much. Less movement! If your in woods like ours, take the standing position and you might just get to see him come in. Well Doyle called that ole tom right back in and I was so intent on taking that careful aim, that I let that ole tom walk right by and never squeezed the trigger! So I got up and walked over to where I left Doyle and he was gone! He was in plain sight of me and left without a sound, all 300 pounds of him! Go figure! Probably left questioning my turkey taking ability. I finally got back up with Doyle. He was patient and hardly ever get upset. ( At least in the turkey woods, ask his wife Phyllis). He says he's hunting with me cause he doesn't carry a gun and I hardly ever use mine! More peaceful in the woods he says. He says I just like to scare the heck of em and watch em fly! May you all be blessed at least once in your lifetime with a hunting partner like Doyle Loadholtz. ( I have now been blessed with two (Doyle & Jeff).
