Many folk talk about the King of the Woods and the King of the Prarie. In my mind there is no greater King than the Spring Turkey. They're beautiful. They're wary as hell. They're challenging. They can be talkative as hens in a chicken coop one morning and then the next, you can't coax a peep out of them. They're frustrating. They're ornery. You can think you have them figured out and they'll not do what you expect. They're pure magic.
Here's a bird that many hunters can go years without ever seeing, or having an opportunity to shoot. You see hundreds of them on the side of the road, but come hunting season they just disappear in the woods. The conditions aren't right for shooting, the birds hang up, hens screw things up (as hens have a tendency to do), and the birds with brains the size of "peas" outsmart many folk. Including me. Nothing is more challenging, nor more rewarding than a public land, non feeder eating gobbler.
My first introduction to turkeys was from a college professor, who quite frankly was shocked that I got lucky enough to harvest a bird, even if it was on private land. I spent the next four years stumbling and bumbling through the woods hoping I'd get lucky and find a gobbler that had a death wish. I spooked birds, stumbled on other people, didn't know what to look for, I didn't pay attention to what I was hearing and let birds pass my by, and lots of other learning experiences that resulted in another year, year after year, of no turkey. Eventually, I figured a few things out and got lucky again. I got my first public land bird. What a thrill that was. I don't think my grin faded for weeks.
Fast forward to this turkey season. Well, last turkey season. They whooped my butt. I had a gobbler patterned pretty well but the blasted bird still managed to get the better of me all season. Talk about frustrating. Makes you want to pull your hair out. And makes people wonder about your sanity. But those folk just don't KNOW about turkeys. They just don't understand. Turkeys are pure magic afterall.
The opener for this year came. And my hopes were high, my excitement even higher. Here was a chance to redeem myself. If I could only outsmart a bird who has a brain the size of a pea.
Turkey camp was erected, with a most outstanding spot in the campground if I do say so
As this is a great view to enjoy when you're sittin inside lookin out the back of the camper
And I headed out to listen to try to roost a gobbler. Hmmmmmmmmmmm. Nothing. Not a peep. Looks like they're going to be ornery to start out the season. But hey, the wind is whipping and perhaps they just don't like to talk in the wind. Who knows.
So the opener dawned. And I had a cow come visit me. She looked about ready to pop.
And that set up the first weekend for me. Non talkative turkeys, including no hens that I ever heard. Lots of fat cows and a bunch of pretty flowers.
But that's turkey hunting for you.
This past weekend I thought, well I shall try something different. The normal spots didn't produce gobbles, though I know the birds are there. The few gobbles I did hear were one and done gobbles throughout the morning. So, let me try something different.
So, I decided to take the kayak with me and float the creek that runs through the property, calling as I go, covering more ground than I would on foot, presumably quieter than if I were on foot, plus I'd have access to both sides of the property as the creek is too deep to wade, as I did have a bird gobble the opposite side. Friday morning rolls around, and I roll up to the creek and find that it's MUCH higher than it was when I was there last. No problemo...just a little more work heading back.
Have I mentioned how frustrating turkeys are? Well if I haven't, they sure are very frustrating. They didn't gobble that morning either. At least not on the roost. I had one far off gobble to me, then start coming, so I got out of the kayak and find a spot that looked like a good area and called again. In no time at all I had him gobbling his way to me and then BANG! Someone else shot him.
ARRRRRRGGGGHHHHHH
Oh well, that's turkey hunting. So I move on. I find that most of the cows have popped, and there are little guys running around everywhere, being curious about all sorts of things.
Nothing the rest of the day, nothing the next day, though I did at least see one of the gobblers I've been trying to get to cooperate with me. Even see a hen or two trying to sneak on by.
Sunday morning rolls around. It's my last chance on this property. The season isn't over for FL, but on that property it's over for me.
With no clue what else to try, I pick a spot I've walked before but never been at early in the morning. I wait. Waited some more. Waited even more. Damn turkeys. Frustrating turkeys. Noncooperative turkeys. Didn't even gobble once on the roost.
In a last ditch effort, I haul the kayak to the end of the cattle trail, put in and paddle up stream. Calling as I go. Nothing for quite a while. But then I think I hear a bird a long ways off. Was it? Could it possibly be a turkey? Or is it a wood pecker playing games with me? My heart starts racing and I call again, only to have it answered, very quickly but still far off. I find myself in the same stretch of woods that I spent so much time in last year, having my butt handed to me by a bird with a brain the size of a pea.
Knowing the bird is on his way, and wanting so much not to screw this opportunity up, I stash the kayak under some palmettos and pick a tree nearby to set up on, make sure my gun is up in a ready position and call again on my slate.
GOBBLE GOBBLE GOBBLE
Lordy he seemed to be just yonder. So close he seems. I am watching, and as I've not mastered the mouth call yet, am not sure whether to call again or not. I don't have cover in front of me and I don't want to screw this bird up. I think well just one more quiet yelp.
GOBBLE GOBBLE GOBBLE
And I drop the slate and striker to grip my gun, waiting for him to step out from behind some palmettos I'm sure he's behind. I'm sure my heart is going to beat out of my chest and spook the bird. I try to calm myself.
And wonder. Where is he? He's not coming out, I don't hear walking on the leaves, I don't hear drumming. Damn turkeys. Secretive turkeys. Ornery turkeys. After what seems like a milennia, but more than likely wasn't more than 20 or 30 seconds, he steps out from behind the palmettos. Should I shoot now? I think. Well not just yet. He's still a touch out of range, but he seems to want to come in. He's looking for that hen who's gone silent. FINALLY he struts into a range that I'm comfortable with and I line him up and pull the trigger.
Two years, and I finally get a bird from this spot. Is it the same one? Who knows. But as much frustration they caused me, as much as my family worried about my sanity, I've finally been able to reap my reward of another public land, hard won spring gobbler.
Damn turkeys. Frustrating turkeys. Ornery turkeys.
Magical turkeys.
Danibeth
Here's a bird that many hunters can go years without ever seeing, or having an opportunity to shoot. You see hundreds of them on the side of the road, but come hunting season they just disappear in the woods. The conditions aren't right for shooting, the birds hang up, hens screw things up (as hens have a tendency to do), and the birds with brains the size of "peas" outsmart many folk. Including me. Nothing is more challenging, nor more rewarding than a public land, non feeder eating gobbler.
My first introduction to turkeys was from a college professor, who quite frankly was shocked that I got lucky enough to harvest a bird, even if it was on private land. I spent the next four years stumbling and bumbling through the woods hoping I'd get lucky and find a gobbler that had a death wish. I spooked birds, stumbled on other people, didn't know what to look for, I didn't pay attention to what I was hearing and let birds pass my by, and lots of other learning experiences that resulted in another year, year after year, of no turkey. Eventually, I figured a few things out and got lucky again. I got my first public land bird. What a thrill that was. I don't think my grin faded for weeks.
Fast forward to this turkey season. Well, last turkey season. They whooped my butt. I had a gobbler patterned pretty well but the blasted bird still managed to get the better of me all season. Talk about frustrating. Makes you want to pull your hair out. And makes people wonder about your sanity. But those folk just don't KNOW about turkeys. They just don't understand. Turkeys are pure magic afterall.
The opener for this year came. And my hopes were high, my excitement even higher. Here was a chance to redeem myself. If I could only outsmart a bird who has a brain the size of a pea.
Turkey camp was erected, with a most outstanding spot in the campground if I do say so
As this is a great view to enjoy when you're sittin inside lookin out the back of the camper
And I headed out to listen to try to roost a gobbler. Hmmmmmmmmmmm. Nothing. Not a peep. Looks like they're going to be ornery to start out the season. But hey, the wind is whipping and perhaps they just don't like to talk in the wind. Who knows.
So the opener dawned. And I had a cow come visit me. She looked about ready to pop.
And that set up the first weekend for me. Non talkative turkeys, including no hens that I ever heard. Lots of fat cows and a bunch of pretty flowers.
But that's turkey hunting for you.
This past weekend I thought, well I shall try something different. The normal spots didn't produce gobbles, though I know the birds are there. The few gobbles I did hear were one and done gobbles throughout the morning. So, let me try something different.
So, I decided to take the kayak with me and float the creek that runs through the property, calling as I go, covering more ground than I would on foot, presumably quieter than if I were on foot, plus I'd have access to both sides of the property as the creek is too deep to wade, as I did have a bird gobble the opposite side. Friday morning rolls around, and I roll up to the creek and find that it's MUCH higher than it was when I was there last. No problemo...just a little more work heading back.
Have I mentioned how frustrating turkeys are? Well if I haven't, they sure are very frustrating. They didn't gobble that morning either. At least not on the roost. I had one far off gobble to me, then start coming, so I got out of the kayak and find a spot that looked like a good area and called again. In no time at all I had him gobbling his way to me and then BANG! Someone else shot him.
ARRRRRRGGGGHHHHHH
Oh well, that's turkey hunting. So I move on. I find that most of the cows have popped, and there are little guys running around everywhere, being curious about all sorts of things.
Nothing the rest of the day, nothing the next day, though I did at least see one of the gobblers I've been trying to get to cooperate with me. Even see a hen or two trying to sneak on by.
Sunday morning rolls around. It's my last chance on this property. The season isn't over for FL, but on that property it's over for me.
With no clue what else to try, I pick a spot I've walked before but never been at early in the morning. I wait. Waited some more. Waited even more. Damn turkeys. Frustrating turkeys. Noncooperative turkeys. Didn't even gobble once on the roost.
In a last ditch effort, I haul the kayak to the end of the cattle trail, put in and paddle up stream. Calling as I go. Nothing for quite a while. But then I think I hear a bird a long ways off. Was it? Could it possibly be a turkey? Or is it a wood pecker playing games with me? My heart starts racing and I call again, only to have it answered, very quickly but still far off. I find myself in the same stretch of woods that I spent so much time in last year, having my butt handed to me by a bird with a brain the size of a pea.
Knowing the bird is on his way, and wanting so much not to screw this opportunity up, I stash the kayak under some palmettos and pick a tree nearby to set up on, make sure my gun is up in a ready position and call again on my slate.
GOBBLE GOBBLE GOBBLE
Lordy he seemed to be just yonder. So close he seems. I am watching, and as I've not mastered the mouth call yet, am not sure whether to call again or not. I don't have cover in front of me and I don't want to screw this bird up. I think well just one more quiet yelp.
GOBBLE GOBBLE GOBBLE
And I drop the slate and striker to grip my gun, waiting for him to step out from behind some palmettos I'm sure he's behind. I'm sure my heart is going to beat out of my chest and spook the bird. I try to calm myself.
And wonder. Where is he? He's not coming out, I don't hear walking on the leaves, I don't hear drumming. Damn turkeys. Secretive turkeys. Ornery turkeys. After what seems like a milennia, but more than likely wasn't more than 20 or 30 seconds, he steps out from behind the palmettos. Should I shoot now? I think. Well not just yet. He's still a touch out of range, but he seems to want to come in. He's looking for that hen who's gone silent. FINALLY he struts into a range that I'm comfortable with and I line him up and pull the trigger.
Two years, and I finally get a bird from this spot. Is it the same one? Who knows. But as much frustration they caused me, as much as my family worried about my sanity, I've finally been able to reap my reward of another public land, hard won spring gobbler.
Damn turkeys. Frustrating turkeys. Ornery turkeys.
Magical turkeys.
Danibeth
