A Father/Son Hunt to Remember...

My dad was responsible for giving me the spark that became a raging fire of passion for the outdoors.  He was a deer hunter and that is where I got my start but my never ending need to spend as much time in the woods as possible, I shifted into my greatest passion, spring turkeys.  Several years in I started "guiding" my dad, and we have had some memorable hunts through the years...yesterday was no exception.  Following is my dad's account of the hunt, please enjoy...

Spring?? Turkey Season 2013

After a terrible week of weather - rain, rain, and more rain, my season finally arrived. I was feeling a lot of personal pressure due to the fact that I hadn't tagged out in about 4 years. Due to my work schedule, I rarely have time to scout and usually have only 2 days of my Illinois 2nd season ( which lasts 6 days) to hunt.

My oldest son and guide Corey had been sending me scouting reports and pictures all week and I was becoming less and less optimistic. All of out usual spots were under water - from a few inches to many feet deep.

The forecast for my opening day (April 20) was for freezing temps and clear skies, after 3 solid days of rain and 1 cloudy and very windy day. For once the forecast was correct: 31 degrees and light winds as I left the house at 3:30am.

Corey had secured rights for me to hunt a different farm this season - one that wasn't in a major creek bottom. As we made the trip he talked about how awesome this farm looks - but how rarely a gobble is heard or a bird seen, but we really didn't have many other options. I remarked I would be happy if we had a bird that worked and Corey said he would be happy if he even heard a gobble. I was suited up in what was normally my deer hunting clothing that I wear in November & December. As we made the long walk into the hunting area there was frost on the grass which coated our boots as we walked. 

I had bow hunted this farm many years ago, but not the areas that we were planning on hunting because of livestock when I was bow hunting. The entire farm looked like turkey heaven and it was hard to believe that the place wasn't home to a large population of Thunderchickens. We set up in a likely looking spot and waited for the sun to peek over the horizon to our left. The woods came alive as all sorts of critters began making their presence known. We heard 2 or possibly 3 birds gobble in the distance - as in: way off the property. Corey was getting a few responses from a distant bird but he was not getting any closer and went silent on us. We were getting pretty chilly and decided to move closer to him and see if we could force the action. As we warmed up from the exercise we decided to stop and call and see if we could get a response. After the first call a bird hammered right back at us and I exclaimed "He's close!"and set up near a fence post as Corey set the decoys. After setting up, we tried calling some more and got - nothing. We tried calling some more and were discussing what to do and heard an alarm putt and the bird was less than 25 yards away in heavy cover - Corey immediately tried calling to calm him and although the bird wasn't super spooked he disappeared into the timber. We both knew we messed up on that bird but hey, that's turkey hunting.

We spent the next couple of hours trying different spots around the property with no luck at all and decided to try a different farm where I always seemed to have some action, even if I couldn't seal the deal. On the way we stopped at a gas station to re-energize ourselves after the miles we had walked. We laughingly told each other that we should have included shooting a bird in our earlier conversation as to what would make us happy. Corey grabbed some of his favorite gas stations food - cheddar dog and hot dog off the roller grill at 9 something in the morning!

We weren't sure how dry our next stop would be but we were going to find out. Normally at our destination, we would drive into a clover field about a hundred yards and then proceed on foot. As soon as we pulled in the gate Corey saw what looked like a turkey in an opening between the clover field and the next field. Sure enough, there was something there. Corey thought it was a strutter ( or a decoy)  and had me grab the binoculars and look at it. It looked like a male bird in strut and finally moved to confirm it. Then a hen moved into view as the bird continued to strut as we watched from the truck a couple of hundred yards away. 

Then... it got wierd.. at 10:30 in the morning ... the hen flew into a nearby large tree. I had never seen this behavior before and Corey hadn't either except when he saw a coyote threaten some birds. There was no threat present, as the male bird remained on the ground. We then noticed that there were 2 more hens in the same tree. One of the hens actually walked down a sloped limb and jumped onto another branch. As we discussed what to do - we were in clear view of the hens in the tree. Do we come back to the same spot tomorrow? Try to put the "sneaky sneak" on them? (Naw - can't do that with 3 hens watching from their elevated perch.) The male acted like he was going to fly up too, but, then the hens decided to fly back down to him. The group then proceeded to slowly march out of view up a wooded ditch to our right. Corey was asking me if I thought we could go after them and sneak up on then or call them back. I didn't answer - but slowly unfastened my seatbelt and slipped out of the truck and grabbed my turkey vest and the 870. The hunt was on! 

Corey grabbed some of his gear and we slipped down the hill to our left and were soon below the crest and able to travel fairly quickly. We entered the timber at the edge of the field along a creek where most of the more heavily traveled trails were still under water. We started a slow sneak/stalk through the timber as though we were being watched, crossing several ditches while keeping an eye on the fields to our right for any sign of our quarry. We finally arrived at the spot where we last saw the birds and I decided to work my way to the edge of the timber where I would be in shooting range of the last open hillside that we had seen the birds on, while Corey would remain hidden behind and left of me to call. I made the edge of the timber - hopefully undetected - and set up on a large tree. Corey began calling - and we were greeted with...once again...nothing. With limited time left before Corey had to leave to coach his son's soccer game - we held our places and Corey continued calling. 

I was trying to remain motionless, with my gun in a semi-ready position, leaning against my tree with no chair or cushion under me - they were still in the truck. I tried to watch the hill/field to my left, the timber ditch in front of me and the field to my right as well - vowing to not get burned again. Finally, I noticed the birds coming down the field hill to my left. They were spaced out quite a bit with the male bringing up the rear. The large, obviously dominant hen passed right in front of me at less than 5 yards, from left to right. I could see the male bird's red head but no evidence of a beard as he slowly came down the hill. The other 2 hens approached me even closer than the 1st hen and were briefly hidden from view behind some brush, I could see the last bird was going to take a slightly different path and needed to move my gun. As the hens passed me by I adjusted my aim and 1 of the hens putted and immediately the last bird gobbled, stepped into my line of fire, and I squeezed the trigger, and down he went at about 8 yards.

 

After high fives and tagging the bird, we took a few photos and made the trip back to the truck. The bird turned out to be a smallish jake - but after the dry spell I had been through, I didn't care. Like Corey says - if they are going to act like a long beard - they are gonna get treated like one.

 

 

Dad with is first bird in several years.

I had been hoping for a memorable hunt and certainly got one. "Hey Dad - remember the day that hen flew up into the tree and we went after 'em when they flew back down?"

"Yeah son, I sure do."

It doesn't always take a longbeard to make a great hunt!