a day in May

Jared didn't have a bird yet, and I had both of mine, so I went out with him with my camera.  We went out near Troy - where we have got into them before, in number.

I had only been with him to this place once before.  The thing I remember from before is that it seemed so turkey-less, even though there was a lot of sign, until ... (a lot of birds showed up ... but that's a different story).

This time there wasn't even much sign.

Once we cleared the trees, however, we did see some elk afar. Yum.


Nor were other indicators encouraging.  The only winter wheat was to the west, were we didn't really have good access. 

But we hiked all around where we could - at least being glad to see the elk, and the nice weather, and headed back.  But before ending the hunt we did decide to look west. 

Nearing the top of a hill I had the feeling we would see something on the other side. 

AND I DID!

Two toms were out in the field ... hundred and twenty or so yards distant.

Jared hadn't seen them yet ... they were exactly behind a bush from where he was standing.

Once he spotted them we came up with a plan.  I would crawl a bit forward and watch.  Jared was carrying archery equipment - he would have to take a standing shot (he standing up to shoot, and tom standing still).

 ... we decided Jared would head north into the timber and try and get near to the edge of the timber adjacent to the birds.  Eventually they would retreat to the timber - and he would be waiting.

I watched. 

On several occasions the birds looked right at me - as though they could see me - but there was `no possible way' ... or at least there was no possible way they could detect me as human related.

I watched.

WT!!!  Something spooked them!  It wasn't me!  (Besides, they were now running toward me!) 

Hunt busted.

I asked Jared later what happened!  Jared is usually quite stealthy, but apparently on his walk down through the timber he stepped on some very loud downfall.  (And away the toms went.)

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Jared's Bird !

Jared holds out for the bigger creature, whereas I `whack and stack' ... thus I generally fill my tags early and move on ... Jared lingers.  But he generally does fill his tags, and he fills them with bigger creatures.  To that I tip my hat.  Here's his 2011 Spring Gobbler - which he killed, and then mounted (himself).  Good job, Jared!!!

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text messaging

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Sometimes you (or at least I) know at a deep level that it is going to end good. I headed out after an already fabulous afternoon doing other stuff ... to hunt wild turkey. It was a glorious day – warmer, more beautiful, sunny, than all the other days this year all added together. On the drive in I pull over several times to answer text messages and do some texting. Dang, wasting precious time on the hill. I come over a hill with the dirt road turnoff to my spot a half mile in the distance – and it appears another vehicle is turning off onto it – beating me by half mile. Dang. I pull over to text. The other vehicle heads on up the road. I follow, and pull over to glass them (what the heck are they doing, anyway?) ... and look for birds. Over in the main draw on the east there is a farmer on a 4-wheeler. Dang. I glass the other vehicle ... it appears they are target practicing.

Normally I would say, “Dang!, someone is in my spot and the farmer has spooked the other.” But I have learned, especially in this place, that I can hunt successfully right under other people, even other hunters.

“All good things come to me.”

As I head on foot up the main draw, it appears the farmer has left – that is fine – I have watched wildlife magically appear just after a farmer leaves – no doubt observing, concealed, and waiting ... for the distraction, or threat, or whatever, to leave.

I do some more texting.

And the guys in the other vehicle have now started shooting (target practice) full tilt. 

I text to the party at the other end (my date from yesterday) ... "I need to sign off - I am in pursuit of wild turkey."

And so I let it unfold.

Actually it is good – I now have some spots I can cross off my list for the trek, and concentrate on others (where the birds will likely be, instead).

The weather is glorious. I head up the main draw – try a hen call – just to see. I get no response. That’s fine. I tried. Now I’ll be quiet – I prefer it that way.

The sun, colors, day, even the shadows, are so glorious. I am not wearing the normal multiple layers plus down vest – just a tee and long sleeve camo shirt over. I have camo paint, and a hat in my pant pockets, which I will wait to put on, or maybe even not.

I cross to the north side. Something about the day – the colors, the depth, the beauty, multiple more intense than earlier hunts, maybe more than ever, ... or at least for a long time. And the ground has finally started getting green.  The snow is gone.

I head down a logging road. The ground is soft, and quiet. I take it slow. Coming up on a good spot, Shit! THERE ARE THREE TOMS! I am in mingled shadows – they haven’t seen me – I hope they don’t – they are a hundred yards or so out, and feeding.  They will likely feed uphill this time of day.  I will stay where I am - and not try and get closer.

But they are feeding VERY ALERTLY. Double shit. I hope they don’t see me. (I haven’t painted up – and I’m somewhat in broken sunlight.) Of course I don’t move. They are slowly feeding my way. It is fascinating to watch the intensity of their alertness. Don’t hey ever let up? (Even for an afternoon feed?)

I think I know these toms - I have seen them before.  As the afternoon fades they will make their way to the top of the hill, maybe skirt the open hilltop, and then fly down to roost.  (Actually, they will fly a bit down but to the top of some gigantic tree.)

The colors are stunning ... the gold sunlight, the green of the vegetation coming to life, the bright red of the males’ heads and necks. The birds are huge.

I wait until direct line of sight is (hopefully) blocked (for all three birds) and slowly sink down to the ground, and slide back in sitting position into shadows at the road edge. Slowly I grab some mud and dead grass and cover my (bright bald) head. I point my shotgun down a lane of fire – should they keep coming. I hope they do; I think they will. I wait.

I change position slightly so I can comfortably wait longer. Should a tom come into the fire lane – all I have to do is press the Safety off – and let him have it. I wait.

Hmmmmm ... they should be here by now – extrapolating from their earlier rate of progress toward me. Maybe they went right, around me? It will be hard to follow.

I am giving up, but decide to wait a bit longer. I have relaxed a bit and am no longer in perfect position. A tom shows up at the end of the lane. Shit! I am worried he sees me – he’s certainly looking my way.  Alert. With 2-1/4 oz. of #5 I can probably take him – but I know there are two other birds, and I think one might be closer, and bigger.

At two-thirds the distance another tom appears, and bigger, crossing through some cover toward the fire lane. The hard part now is getting the Safety off when I need to - without spooking them. (Do they make a Safety Silencer?) My shotgun is pointed straight down the lane. I have no choice but to take the Safety off – I wait till the red head of the tom crosses in front of the red bead at the barrel end, follow him just a bit, and FIRE.

The double-X magnum load kicks hard, sitting; though I don't physicllay watch it, the spent shell ejects to the center of road.

TOM DOWN!

I take out my knife to dispatch my tom, notch my tag, and go to the top of the hill with my bird.  It's beautiful.  I take out my cell phone and text "Got Him."

What a Great Day!!!

God is the Doer

Today was opening day of Spring Turkey season. In earlier years I would have been out, before dawn, walking in to hopefully get one of these fabulous creatures at the first possible moment. This year I slept through the dawn hunt; weather called for more rain. I had little desire to sit soaking cold, hunt soaking wet and cold, and then come back into town, teach, and then head back out. I had a relaxed morning – had a blast teaching, and then headed into to town to do some banking (pick up a check from a client and deposit it). I hit more red lights than usual, in fact, almost all red lights. Normally lights are green for me. But I let it unfold as it willed, thinking perhaps there was providential timing in it all.

I drove out to the hill as the rain was letting up some. I decided to come in from the bottom. I wanted the exercise, and the solitude. It would be farther, and now quite muddy. I would have to park about 2 miles out, on the main road. I was wearing basically what I had been all day – blue jeans, nice polo shirt – but now had donned camo shirt, green vest, and camo raincoat. I would spot and stalk – and the way these things go – it really didn’t matter what I was wearing from the waist down – as it would be unseen due to the terrain. I had camo face paint with me, if I needed or wanted it.

The going was sloppy, and tiring. Walking made many times harder by our Palouse mud, or mud and grease.

The rain was indeed thinning, almost to a mist, and the clouds thinning enough for the sun to cast a slight shadow. I thought – `perfect’. The perfect time for wildlife to come out. Indeed, two whitetail deer came out of a small patch of trees and started feeding.

About 3000 yards up the draw I spotted a lone bird. It was big – either a lone hen on a mission, or a satellite tom with a bigger flock nearby. He/she was following a fold down into a winter wheat field. I started the approach.

The difficulty of the draw is that the birds can move out of a fold, not noticed, and then notice you (or me) coming up the `road’ from the bottom, and leave. Hunt over. I took my time. I could not see the bird. The rain was picking up; perhaps they had returned to the timber. My glasses were fogging. Either I wear all my clothes and get them soaked with sweat at the 100 percent humidity, or I shed some and get them wet from the rain. Either way – I would be finishing the day with wet clothes. I took it slow. Too often I have fumbled forward only to warn my prey of my coming – they flee – I get nothing.

I followed the road up into the timber, taking it slow. A gigantic owl watched from across a small ravine. Would have made for a tremendous photo – but I was on a different mission – with different equipment. There was fresh `sign’ – good. (`Sign' is a tame word for `crap'.) 

My glasses are fogging constantly in the 100 percent humidity - and heat and perspiration emission from climbing - but I use the fogging as excuse to stop, and the perspiration as excuse to go slow.

I left the relative silence of walking up the road and started moving toward the timber to spot just over the crest from a likely location of the birds, especially now that the rain was lightening again, and they would be moving back into the open. I took it slow.  Suddenly a gobble – quite close - `just over the crest’. I stood motionless. I was close – but I could see nothing. I wanted to head to the timber and over the crest – where I thought the gobble came from, but to my left I spotted a single bird walking my way. It/he/she appeared to be a jake (young male). It would be a legal bird – but I wanted the tom that was gobbling. I could not but stay perfectly still. These birds have incredible eyesight – he was coming right toward me – there would be no second chances.

I thought of moving forward anyway – busting the jake – hoping he would go left and not spook the others on the other side of the crest. I continued to wait it out. And good that I did. The flock appeared on my side of the crest to my right – had I moved I would have busted them. A tom and hens, moving out of the timber back into the winter wheat. The tom would gobble, fan, and they would move forward. I could take them with my gun – if I could get a clear shot.  But no, they went quickly over the rise, and disappeared.

My attention went back to this other bird. Getting closer. A hen? … a jake? … the bird was silhouetted – it was difficult to make out – but all the while getting closer and closer. At one point the bird kind of dipped down left and showed a nice beard. `Whoa! – that’s a nice beard for a hen.” I realized I was dealing with a decent (satellite) tom – orbiting the hens and other tom. In fact – I would take him – if it comes together.

Now I could make out his distinct red head. Amazingly he continued to head straight toward me. And I was fully exposed – bright blue jeans, bright white-skin face. Apparently he was in such a `state’ not being able to get at those hens - that he didn’t realize he was walking toward a person, a human, a hunter, who could unleash his death.

Now the bird was entering some brush and low cover. It could come together, or not. It would be my only chance to move forward a couple steps to still be able to get a shot if he went farther left. I also had to somewhat raise my gun. The hard part was that now the bird was close enough that the click of the safety going off could very well betray me. I would have to take the gun off safe – and quickly put together a shot. But by now all I was getting was sporadic sightings of his head.  It is precisely at this stage that things can go to shit.  If he sees me before I send lead his way - he ducks his head and is invisible in the low cover as he runs off.  And I never see him again.  Been there done that - hunt over. I lined my sight picture up – straight rib on top the barrel – with red front sight lined with the red of the tom’s head, and fired.  It could have all come apart at the end – but though I could see nothing after the blast – I knew it had not. The birds over the crest would now be fleeing. I moved forward to see my bird flapping his last. I raised a hand to heaven, in Thanks.

God is the Doer.

A tear of gratitude is in my eye as I write this.

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Road Hunting ... for Merriams ...

Companion to `Off Season Turkey Hunting' Article (Prev. Post)


By road hunting I mean driving various roads with the purpose of seeing birds crossing or alongside the road or spotting them from the road. Road hunting is, well, ... complicated. It is generally illegal to shoot from or across a public road. And states define `the road' differently: the physical roadway in some cases, to the Right-of-Way in others. (And the Right-of-Way may be hard to distinguish on the ground, and be some distance from the physical roadway.) Beyond the Right-of-Way may lay private property. So, unless you have permission to hunt the land adjacent to the road you are `hunting', road hunting may be flat out illegal. Another complication with road hunting is safety. Stopping or slowing down or turning around (or parking) on a road invites an accident, or at least may be annoying to others using the road. And if you are road hunting alone - that means your eyes are afield instead of on the road. As much as I love getting a bird - I prefer to shun ways that place my property and hunting partners in jeopardy, or that invite the idea of trespassing.

I consider killing a rather private matter. I often pass up opportunities that would put my killing on public display, particularly where guns are oft thought of as evil. So if I get into birds just as a van with mom and kids passes by, I'll often just `wave', and save the (turkey) dying for another day.

That said, there are circumstances where road hunting can work; using lesser traveled or private roads along or through properties that are either public or for which I have permission to hunt. Road hunting can sometimes be a nice addendum to a hunt. In addition to looking for birds, be also looking for places to safely exit the roadway, should you see some.

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Off Season Turkey Hunting ...

What is the best way to hunt turkey? ... THE WAY YOU WANT TO.

ARTICLE ... HERE.

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Toms, Summary ...

 ... with Toms I have never had a `better shot'.  All the times I have hesitated, waited, got up and ran, tried to get around, ducked, hid, whatever ... I have never had a better shot than the one presented, in the moment..  With Toms, more than any other creature, you must take the shot you get!

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