Turkey hunting is about as fun as it gets!  The only hard part is understanding what kind of bullet that you need to use and a little pre-season scouting.  For the new hunter, this is a great way to learn.  The best part… if you are successful, you can carry out your game by yourself!

I waited five years to draw my second turkey tag.  The night before the hunt, I was so excited that I could barely sleep.  I wanted more than anything to take the bird with my bow.  However, I had drawn the earliest season and there was still a lot of snow.  The birds would not be willing to come in to a call until the very last day or two.  I only had ten days to hunt.  Most of my favorite places were still covered in snow.

My pre-season scouting found two big flocks of birds… both were being fed by locals.  They were practically tame.  I couldn’t bring myself to kill a pet.  Although there was one tom that had a unique white and brown feather mix instead of the typical black for the Rio Grande turkey.  He was a beautiful bird and he knew it as he strutted across the road and down into the ravine.  By the time I got my camera out (and loaded fresh batteries), it had traveled about 60 yards.  He didn’t seem disturbed when I kept sneaking (okay, running) to catch up to him for the picture.   There were over 20 birds in the flock.  The pretty white and brown tom and two white hens made them easy to find each night.  The other toms had one or two tail feathers.  It made for an ugly turkey fan!  That is like finding a boyfriend with only one tooth!  I had to pass on the birds with missing tail feathers.

So away I went to another location.  There, I find a flock of 30 or more birds and they were all in the driveway of a local residence.  The good news is that he lives considerably far away from our little town, but a driveway is still a driveway.  Perhaps, I could call one of them away from the driveway and up onto a nearby ridge?  I figured it was something I would save for the last day if I needed it.

When I woke up at 4:00 a.m. on my first day of the hunt, I still didn’t know where to go, but I was excited!  I had loaded almost all my gear the night before so I wouldn’t forget anything.  I had the Primos Turkey Call and some other call that I bought at the expo a couple months ago.  I had my brand new turkey blind and two brand new chairs so I would be comfortable.  I had my husband’s vest with the padded seat attached, so you can carry your “chair” on your back and then sit right down on it.  It seemed like a pretty good invention.  (Too bad it doesn’t come with a remote and a battery-operated television set!)  I had boots for freezing weather and boots for warmer weather.  I had a jacket that was too big and a big warm coat with a broken zipper (the Velcro still works on it and I refuse to throw it out because it is really long and keeps my butt warm!  Plus, it is fuzzy and quiet, and it is easy to be sneaky with this wonderful coat).  I keep thinking I am going to unpick the broken zipper and put a new one in but there always seems to be other things to do.

I had to stop at the store and buy some snacks since I would rather kill something rather than cook it.  All my hunting buddies get marshmallow treats and chocolate chip cookies to take in their fanny pack.  Their wives stay home and make all these wonderful things to eat. 

My husband drove about an hour from our house.  We are taking some advice from our friends who scouted their favorite hunting spots and tipped us off where to find a turkey.  It was still too dark to see, so we parked and took a little nap.  We saw other hunters flying up the dirt road in a real big hurry.  So we started up the truck and followed them slowly up the road.  We watched on both sides of the road.  All the shadows looked just like turkeys to me.  I wanted to stop at every turn and look through the binoculars, but we just kept driving on.  Then suddenly, there is our favorite UPS driver at the side of the road.  My husband stayed in our truck with our sleeping four-year-old granddaughter who begged to hunt with Grandma, while I got out and walked up the road with Rod and his son.

I don’t know which I saw first, the truck that flew past us, or the birds flying over our head.  But suddenly, it was just like the Wizard of Oz with the flying monkeys!  The sky was dark as 30 or more birds flew right over our heads.  It sounded just like a 757 Bowing Jet towing a cruise ship!  We immediately split up.   I ran to my right and Rod and his son went straight ahead on the road.  I crouched low by the bank of a steep ditch.  I could hear the water from the creek and it made my feet cold just listening to it.  Suddenly, three more birds flew and landed in a tall tree about 100 feet in front of me.  I forgot to be cold!

I watched the birds for a long time.  It was amazing to me.  If I hadn’t watched them land, I wouldn’t have known they were there.  Then I realized that I didn’t grab my binoculars when I rushed out of the truck.  I couldn’t tell if they were hens or toms.  I was disappointed that I wasn’t sitting in my nice warm, brand-new blind with my brand new chairs.  But watching the birds was thrilling and I wasn’t sad for very long.  Suddenly, they flew out of the tree and swooped down to the ground.  I tried to follow them, but the snow was too crunchy.  I set-up and called to them with my new call.  It sounded just like a real turkey.  If I had been a tom turkey, I would have come running.  My love tones were purrr-fect as I clucked and purred to the love-struck toms.  However, they didn’t see it that way.  I didn’t hear a single thing for about five minutes and when I did, it was far, far away.  I ran toward the sound and finally heard it again.  This time, it was even further away.  I was nowhere near them!  I went back to my plan.  I hiked up a steep ridge and sat at the top and watched the meadow at the bottom.  I could hear the toms gobbling at the very top of the canyon, through miles of deep snow.  I went back to the truck.

My granddaughter had made a home out of the truck and it was filled with empty food wrappers, containers, blankets and Barbie dolls.  I got back in the truck and thought we were heading back home, but my husband had other plans.  We all loaded up on the four-wheeler and went for a short ride up the road.  It produced nothing but joyful glees from our four-year-old hunting partner.  As we started the hour-long ride home, my eyeballs slammed shut and I dreamed of the morning hunt.

Did I ever tell you that I love mornings!  I love to get up just in time to watch the sun rise while sipping a hot cup of coffee.  However, at 4:00 a.m., I am not the happiest camper.  I wondered why I love hunting so much when you have to get up so dang early and it is always cold that early in the morning.  The second day, I waited an extra hour in bed instead of waiting at the mouth of the canyon while everyone else passed you.  There just doesn’t seem to be any sense in getting to your favorite hunting spot if you still can’t see.  I’ve hiked to the bottom of the canyons many times to find someone already sitting there.  Invariably, I can guarantee you that you won’t see anything if someone else has already walked there in the darkness of night.  It reminds me of a child holding their hands over their eyes and exclaiming, “You can’t see me!”

The second day, I passed both camp trailers.  One had a light on and the other looked peaceful and sleepy.  I never saw a soul.  We parked the truck and walked up the road about 100 yards and then we hiked up a small ravine over the ridge and into another ravine where I had spotted many fresh tracks the day before.  I spotted the hen first.  She didn’t seem interested in me.  She was scratching the dirt with her tail feathers towards me.  Then I heard the gobble.  I couldn’t see him and didn’t dare move.  I stayed still for what seemed to be an eternity.  Then I began a stalk toward the sound.  I stayed on the dirt and avoided all the crunchy snow.  It took me a long time to advance.  Turkeys can’t smell much of anything, but they have very keen eyesight and I believe they can hear very well too.  I continued my stalk until I finally saw the top of his fan over the sagebrush.  I crouched and waited for a good shot.  I placed my 12 gauge shotgun on one knee and braced up for the big recoil.  More than anything, I prepared my mind to focus on his tiny little head.  He was almost out of range.  I knew I had to act fast or I would miss the opportunity.  I had no clue how big he was and I really didn’t care.  It was this moment of truth that had willed me out of my warm bed.

Finally, he turned and let down most of his strut.  I instinctively pulled the trigger.  It took a second but the gun jerked into my shoulder about the time the big bird flapped his wings and jumped into the air.  Then when I thought he was supposed to flop over, he started to run – fast and hard!  I jumped from my hiding spot and ran after him hoping to catch another shot.  As I loaded another shell into the chamber, my coat caught in the gun action and I had to stop running to free my coat and chamber another shell.  The bird ran up a hill and behind a tree.  He flapped his wings a couple times and then surrendered to the one BB in his lungs.  I could hear him wheezing.  I wanted to put him out of his misery.  I ran closer and found a spot between two trees.  I fired from the standing position and a big limb fell out of the one tree.  I had missed the bird by three feet!  I clamored in my pocket for another shell and fed it into the chamber.  Again, my coat stopped the action and again I had to free the fabric from the gun action.  The bird was almost dead, but I had a need to make sure he wasn’t suffering or that he wouldn’t get away.  I can’t explain it, but I had to shoot again.  Bang!  The off-hand shot hit the mark and the bird immediately expired.  I threw my hands in the air to signal a “touch-down” for my husband.  He thought I had missed.  I ran over and picked up my prize bird and held it in the air before my husband knew the rest of the story.

On the way home, he talked me into mounting the beautiful 9 ½ inch bearded tom so we can display it in our shop.  Since my husband IS my taxidermist, I suppose that is okay with me!

I can’t wait to draw another tag.  This time, I want to shoot it with my bow and I’ll choose a later hunt so I can sit in my blind and call them to me!

 

© April 2008