Throwback story - once in a lifetime waterfowl hunt...

Originally written by Corey Suter in January 2011

January 29, 2011

A long waterfowl season was winding to a close, and I was reflecting on the past year. My passion for this thing we love to do was skewed a bit, as my old retriever Maggie was showing...and feeling her age, and I found it easier to head for the deer woods, than to watch her hobble around the house after a hunt. Her drive and her passion were still there, but it wasn’t in my heart to push her. I decided early on that I would hunt her on the easy hunts; warmer temps, easy walks, land only, etc. Rough January weather coupled with freeze up, and no birds on my little slice of heaven led to little hunting, but no complaints.

I was able to squeeze in a few good shoots, and then the bitter cold hit and the birds in my area were heavily pressured.  Though I scouted almost daily, I saw so little to motivate me. In fact, after a below zero day in which myself and my goose partner Carl yielded not even a goose spotted, the wind was vacated from my sails enough that I skipped several days in a row, and quite frankly....I didn’t miss it.

It was on Wednesday before the last weekend of the season that I noticed the calendar and realized our season was nearly over. I thought about Mags, and as much as I hated to think about it...I thought that she may very well be in her final season and though I was hopeful she could trudge along as a veteran semi-retired dog with the young pups picking up the slack,...I was not ready to give up just yet on the season.

I was shocked to find several birds using a little hole and a creek leading up to it, a frozen pond with a hole the size of a large hot tub, and a 3-4 foot wide creek with a fairly wide 15 yard open spot of 2" deep water/mud. The forecast was for a slight warm up and so it was on for me, so I called the "troops" and organized a morning hunt.

The next morning met with much optimism as we set the decoys and talked of things to come. I had Carl and my dad, Steve, along for the morning. We were met with mostly clear skies and warming temperatures into the 30's, but with only one goose spotted from dawn till noon, we decided to break for lunch. Carl had to leave and he reported all birds still sleeping on the normal roost out on the ice. Dad and I returned at 2:00 p.m. and by 2:15 p.m. we had seen our first geese, a small flock of four. Soon after we heard a distant single goose that was literally clucking his head off. We ducked and covered and I got on the call and the bird came to look, circling high the first time, then lower, then seemingly leaving for the corn field, before turning and coming back from 200 yards away, locking up and sailing right over my head, one shot and our first dead bird... finally!!!! Mags made a short retrieve and I savored every second of the old dog lumbering out for a bird. That single triggered a mass goose flight and for the next two hours we had endless flow of honkers. Unfortunately they were all headed to the corn. We were working a bunch of birds that were high, when out of nowhere a single appeared, 30 yards high right over us, I started working on him specifically and soon he was locked and committed. We popped up and dad shot him, as Maggie made the chase the bird leaped up and ran across the ice right at me where I finished it with a shot to the base of the neck.

We had one more real close encounter, three birds came and did it right but they were trying to work from behind us and I couldn’t figure it out, I passed on em at 20 yards and they never returned...after they left I realized the wind had turned 180 degrees and our spread was basically backwards. We worked several other flocks but two was it for the night.

I had already discussed hunting the afternoon only with Carl, and dad, but before we even made it to the driveway I had talked it over with dad and decided, to meet at 8:30 A.M. Just in case some birds flew early, because no two days are the same. Carl had texted me and planned to join us in the afternoon, and good friend Jeff was in for the morning hunt.

January 30, 2011:

I was really nervous we would be too late setting up, when I awoke Sunday morning to overcast, foggy conditions, and my fears worsened when Jeff, showed up at the house and reported birds in the air in the river bottoms.  Soon after my dad arrived with a similar report, and before I was even in the truck I received a call from Carl who had seen geese flying in town and abandoned his afternoon hunt plans and headed out to join us early.

Jeff, dad, and I put decoys out and to our dismay/excitement we were ate up by several small bunches of birds. Carl arrived as we were finishing up and we hid the trucks and hunkered down, two layout blinds on the edge of the pond overlooking the now smaller hole in the ice, with Carl and dad behind and to our side in snow camo. It was literally minutes and we were working geese. Wave after wave came and the first customers looking for water came and worked, approximately 15-20 birds worked us and just as I was gonna call the shot they picked up to make another swing, this time three made the mistake of getting feet down right in front and I called the shot, we made quick work of the the three birds with maggie and brew cleaning up the carnage.

There was no time for celebrating as wave upon wave continued. There were geese from the west, from the south, occasionally from the north and east, most of them were interested only in corn, but we managed to pull another group of four, they came right at us but started to slide at the last moment, instead of calling the shot, I tried clucking at them and they immediately flared, at which point Carl informed me they were just off the ground right out in front of him in range when they flared!

I did not mention at that time, but I honestly got caught looking a little too hard. Carl had mentioned that a co-worker had seen a yellow neck collar on a bird that roosted with the birds we were hunting, and Jeff and I joked about shooting a banded bird and I found myself wanting to get them CLOSE so I could look them over real good, and it cost us a shooting opportunity.

No time to fret as we literally had no time to even get out of the blinds and we were working the next bunch, this time a group of three came in, hovering right over us dropping, but again trying to slide away, I peeked out of my blind and picked out the farthest right bird, when suddenly just as I was to call the shot I noticed something...something on the neck of the bird...KILL EM!!!! I threw the top and shot one time folding the bird and following it to the ground with my gun as Jeff shot at the other two...unfortunately he got tangled in his blind a bit, and did not hit any other birds, I leaped up and yelled "I THINK THAT BIRD HAS A COLLAR! THAT BIRD HAS A COLLAR!!! I do not think anyone believed me and as I walked towards the bird I could see the collar and yelled back, he does!...But then I noticed something strange, something I have never seen before...I was shocked when I realized the bird was wearing a GPS TRACKER on his back! Complete with leg band, tracking unit, and neck collar, I was holding a once in a lifetime bird!!! We celebrated for a while, and then it was back to the blinds for more action. We called a pair in and took one bird, had a trio just appear while working another flock and took another bird, then four in tight and knocked down another bird. We ended the day on a slight downer as Dad tried to finish his last bird on a close pair, but it just did not work out, but all in all we finished with seven dead geese and a story for the ages!!!

Dad, Jeff and I after the hunt

The "transmitter goose"

A little history behind the bird, updated after this story was written.  The bird was tagged in Minnesota as part of a federal study on bird/plane collisions.  It was one of 12, and at last report 2 were harvested, counting this one.  The head researcher was a waterfowler himself and he helped supply a dummy transmitter for the mount seen below.  The original transmitter was returned for re-use.

Perfect hunt to cap a perfect season...May 2, 2014

The 2014 scouting season started tough for me.  I struggled to find birds and was my usual doom and gloom self as the turkey season rolled closer.  As my close and not so close friends can vouch, I spend two months worrying and fearing the worst every year in the scouting season, but I can honestly say this year I really thought bird numbers were down in the areas I was looking and I was bracing for a tough year.

The season opened with nasty weather and I managed a longbeard only minutes into the season and the pressure was off, on a great early season hunt.  To top that off, I was able to tag another longbeard two weeks later with my son and my dad along for the ride.

May 1, 2014, rolled around and I was riding on cloud 9 and ready to get after some birds with good friend and hunter partner Carl.  Between us we had three tags in three counties in Illinois and we had joked for weeks that we were going to have an epic hunt with 3 birds down in 3 counties in 1 day!

Unfortunately, day 1 met with overcast conditions, scattered rain showers and a windchill in the 30's.  It was generally a miserable day and the birds did not cooperate.  In fact we heard one gobble the entire day.

A slow day leads to me taking "artistic" pictures of the hunt...

The weather was scheduled to be less cloudy and warmer for day 2 so we took solace in the fact that tomorrow is another day.

May 2, 2014, started in the same spot with similar results.  Two birds gobbling a couple times at least 1/2 mile a way.  The frustration of day 1 and yet another cloudy day to start out, led to a couple of hunters that settled on an early breakfast and a new plan for the rest of the day.  We hit the local spot for breakfast and then decided to head to the South farm, for which I had my final tag.  Carl and I talked all things turkey and as we drove the miles away I realized we were going to drive right by another farm I had permission to hunt so we decided to do a quick calling series and see what happened.

We parked the truck and quickly walked to the back field and hit the call a few times as I pointed out different aspects of the farm to my friend.  As we started to walk to the truck Carl joked that we would probably hear a bird gobble when we walked all the way back to the truck.  Instead a bird responded just across the property line in the field!  I was on the gun this time so Carl dropped into a calling position and I quickly put out a decoy.  Based on experience I knew the bird was close enough to spot us if we were not careful.  I quickly set up, ironically on the same tree where I killed my second bird only 6 days prior.  It was about 8:20 a.m. when the bird first gobbled and though he answered our calls the bird did not seem really fired up.  I quickly laid eyes on the birds and realized there was a hen involved and eventually at least two longbeards.  I struggled to stay still in the wide open terrain despite the birds being several hundred yards through the open timber I felt exposed.  The birds gobbled occasionally, but moved right to left with the hen instead of towards our location.  At one point the big gobbler jumped up on a log 150 yards away and stood motionless staring our direction for over ten minutes!  That was the first time I got a clear look at the lead bird and he looked enormous!  Carl later said he looked like a parade float drifting across the green timber floor in half strut.

About 40 minutes into the hunt I thought we were done as I saw the birds running across the timber, but later realized they were running yet another bird off, and soon they were working back my direction.  My heart rate jumped up as they eased our direction once again.  They closed the gap to 75 yards with the huge lead bird showing very little interest as his hen left him he headed back to his original location, only stopping to give us a courtesy stare before disappearing into the bottom.  His companion was a nice longbeard but paled in comparison to the first bird.  He stopped and did a half strut show for us before trotting off to catch up to his buddy.  Once I was sure they were gone, we slipped out after working the birds for over an hour, we decided maybe things were breaking loose for us and we headed for the south farm.

By the time we drove several miles to the south farm and walked the 1/2 mile into the timber it was after 11 o' clock and though the clouds were still present, the temps were better, and the wind was picking up.  I decided to work into a bottom where I had called birds before and get out of the wind.

Carl and I set up side by side with our backs to the property line.  That line consisted of a few yards of thick brush, a very steep creek, another few yards of thick brush and then a bean stubble field that I had heard turkeys in on several occasions.  So to set the stage, we sat with our backs to the field facing a small field road/corner of an old pasture where I had set a decoy.  It was 11:28 a.m. by the time we trimmed enough briars for clear shooting and comfortable sitting.  I whispered jokingly to Carl "Ok I'm ready, call me in a turkey!" He nodded in agreement and we  hit our first series of calls with no response.  Carl hit his call a second time and I thought I heard a faint gobble to my right.  We had just talked about imagining gobbles when it is slow, so I elected to say nothing and wait to hear it again.  Just a few minutes later and we were startled by a gobble only 60 yards away, behind us and straight up the field line!  Carl hit the call and the bird hammered back even closer.  I was exposed to the back so I did not dare turn and look and I whispered to Carl that he needed to keep an eye on him because he had a tree to hide him.  He spotted the bird within what seemed like seconds and whispered that he was walking the field edge strutting and spitting and drumming.  He stood directly behind us in gun range and gobbled again, then I heard him spitting and drumming.  During all this commotion I heard what I thought was a bird flying the creek and I whispered to Carl, I think I heard him fly the creek.  He whispered back that he was still behind us and I again heard him spit and drum.

My heard was pounding and my breathing was going nuts as I listened to that bird drum.  In all the elevated excitement I heard a stick break to our left.  I sat facing the decoy and as a left handed hunter I had moved my gun directly to my right when the bird had first gobbled as I thought he may cross the fence and come in from that direction.  So as I glance slightly to my left I suddenly see a red and white head at 10 YARDS!  I peeked through the brush and realized it was a jake, but then caught more movement and realized there were two birds a jake and a big gobbler, stepping out right behind Carl and looking at the decoy.  I had a small portable "x" blind out so I now had to raise my gun over the blind and shoulder it then get a shot all without them seeing me from 12 yards away!  As I started moving, Carl still did not know the birds were there and mumbled something I can not repeat but it boiled down to him thinking this bird is standing right behind us looking this way and all of a sudden I am moving my gun!  The big gobbler suddenly popped out of strut and did the famous "wing flip" and I knew it was a matter of seconds and he would be gone.  In one slow motion I brought the gun up and over the blind and shouldered as the bird walked away Carl suddenly realized we had 3 birds on top of us not just one!  The big gobbler started to make his escape and despite it being a very hard shot to my extreme left, I was able to get square and get the bead on him. I was a bit panicked and honestly was telling myself "do not miss!" which typically does not turn out well!  I hit a series on the mouth call as I put the bead on his head and he looked up just long enough!  I pulled the trigger and the bird went down in a heap!!!  Carl jumped up and gave me a quick high five before heading over to check out the bird, as the jake vacated the area.  I stood up, still shaking and Carl yelled over to me something about "hooks" and we shared a few more hoots, and high fives before snapping pics.  After all the excitement, I realized that I had just put bird number 50 on the ground for my turkey hunting career, what made that special was Carl and I hunted together when he hit 50 just a couple years back!

The bird was a great one, 23 lbs 1 oz, 1 9/16" L spur, 1 7/16" R spur and a 9 1/4" beard.

Three generations in the turkey woods and an unforgettable morning.

April 26, 2014, will go down in the "turkey journal" and in my mind,  as one of those special memories that I will not soon forget.  To find full appreciation for the day, and its events, I must first explain the days leading up to the hunt.

I like to put in my time when it allows each spring and spend many more hours scouting than I ever do hunting each year.  The days leading up to my second tag in Illinois were no different, and two days prior to 3rd season, I was in the woods and listening to a hot bird at sunrise.  I enjoyed the audio display and even watched a huge long-beard breed a hen before sneaking off to work.  The following morning I was in the woods awaiting the sunrise and the birds had relocated a few hundred yards but were gobbling pretty good, I did not want to take any chances in spooking them so I left almost as soon as I arrived.

This particular farm is located in a rural area and I like to drive the back roads around it on the way to and from my scout trips to see the country and look for birds.  I was surprised this morning to see an old truck parked in the middle of the public road at 6:30 a.m. with lights off.  The truck immediately drove past me without so much as a friendly gesture and I saw them pull into a field road at which point I knew they were listening to the same birds I was listening to.  I was concerned a bit, but was not too worried as the birds had been roosted on and using the farm I had sole permission to hunt on the past two mornings.

Opening morning of 3rd season found me settled against a big hack-berry tree waiting for the woods to come alive.  The weather was cooler with a stout breeze and temps in the 40's to start out, but  I was still optimistic the birds would gobble.  Long before the birds would even think about gobbling a truck pulls into the field on the neighbors below me and drives to within 200 yards of where the birds were roosted the morning before.  I expect to hear doors slamming but instead when the extremely loud diesel truck shuts off, I hear what I believe was supposed to be an owl hoot.  It was a mouth call attempt that was literally someone saying the words " who, who, whooooo"  I kind of chuckled to myself, and then I heard a full series of yelps from a box call...no gobbles.  For a split second I honestly thought..."Am I being pranked?"  I am picturing these birds sitting on their limbs staring directly at the truck.  Another series of owl words, then another box call with no answer and the diesel truck fires back up.  I look at my phone, its 5:39 a.m. and he is moving....I assume since I don't hear any doors open or shut he is calling from inside the truck.  The truck rumbles out to the gravel road goes up the road a bit and then back into another field.  A few minutes later I hear a horrible sound and at first I couldn't make it out, but it sounded slightly familiar.  I suddenly realize an electronic caller has been employed and its a "fighting crow" routine.

I am now sitting in total disbelief as the truck fires up again and drives back out to the gravel road and shuts off again.  Two moves before 6 a.m.!  I don't even touch a call, and I am already thinking of where I will go to salvage my hunt, when I hear a distant bird gobble out by the gravel road, way west of the truck's location.  The truck immediately fires up and flies down the road to the general area of where the bird gobbled.  I ease that way after fly down time just to make sure this guy isn't on the ground I am hunting and to make sure he knows someone is hunting across the line.  I cautiously move to that side of the farm and set down at a tree big enough to cover my back from a shot and with a clearing where I can see him coming.  I hear him call several times with the box call and then the truck fired up and left for good before 7:30 a.m.

I left for breakfast and picked up a buddy, and spent the rest of the day running and gunning and did not hear a bird,.

Day 2 of 3rd season met with a much better weather day, clear, light winds and rising to near 80 degrees.  I started the hunt out far away from the neighbor this time, because along for the ride, I had my 8 year old son Cannon, and my dad.  Three generations watching the sunrise.  For the second day in a row the birds were quiet and a couple of quick moves and set ups did not produce so much as a gobble.  Cannon became inpatient and kept saying "I want to hear a turkey" or "I want to see a turkey."  Though we thought we heard one faint gobble we could never get him to fire up and as Cannon hit his last thread of patience we made the 1/2 mile walk back to the truck.  I decided after breakfast we would make one last effort to salvage the hunt and headed to my father in laws farm.

We settled in on a green field that we burned off earlier this year and I thought how cool it would be to kill a bird in front of my dad and my son in this setting.  To our right was a strip of timber, maple and cottonwoods, flood plain ground that was glistening in the early sun with the fresh green carpet.  Beyond the strip of timber of 200 yards is a bean stubble field and the property line.  I do not kill a lot of birds on this farm but the ones I do seem to always come from that field and always in the 9 o' clock hour.  We settled in with Cannon and Grandpa together and me in front.

9:15 a.m. we began a calling sequence with cannon calling/answering my calls.  No answer, and I was already inpatient so after Cannon made a few attempts on his mouth call, I took it and hit a series...again no answer.  I hit a crystal call and then answered with the mouth call and cannon jumped in with the box call...no answer. 

Out of pure frustration I cut really hard on the crystal call and I was immediately answered by a bird in the field behind us a few hundred yards away!  I turned to the boys for confirmation and based on the look in their faces I didn't need to ask!

I hit the mouth call and he did not answer and I soon learned he wanted the crystal call.  He would answer me regularly and he would gobble at just about any loud sound as he slowly worked down the field.  We were west of the bird and he was working south but I knew they like to come to the bottom before they enter the timber.  He put on a gobbling show, as he closed the distance and though we could not see him he sounded to be in the timber just 200 yards away or so.  I threw everything I could at him, calling away to imply a bird walking away but he knew the deal, he would come to a certain point in the timber and gobble.  Dad finally got eyes on the bird and he was walking north and south looking towards us and strutting.  He would walk off and I would call him back and I was sure he would come, but he would always stop.  At one point a neighbor was working on a big block race motor and every time it rumbled the bird would hammer.  Honestly the first time I had a bird shock gobble to a race car!  Over the next hour I learned where the bird would come to and I could not understand why he would not finish the deal, I know that timber like the back of my hand and there are no fences, no ditches, but he always stopped in the same area. In the past, if I could get them to leave the field and come into the timber, they would typically finish the deal, but not this bird.

Finally, I turned to the boys and said " I can kill this bird, but I am gonna have to leave you guys here to do it"  The only answer I needed was my son saying "DO IT!"  As the bird gobbled and started walking away, I peeled out of my turkey vest, and started belly crawling, circling to a low ditch and following a deer trail, I started slowly closing the distance.  The bird continued to gobble every 30 seconds or so and he was leaving quickly!  I picked up the pace a bit and went to my hands and knees, keeping brush piles and fallen trees in between me and the bird.

"sneaky snake mode"

 I finally reached a tree with a huge pile of drift wood from the last flood piled in front of it and I knew if I crawled across it I would get busted.  I slid up against the tree and moved into shooting position as the bird gobbled only 150 yards away.

I hit the mouth call and he immediately cut me off with a loud gobble.  A few seconds later I spotted a white head bobbing through the timber back dropped by the bright green.  I suddenly realized the magnitude of the situation, I had a big bird coming right at me and my dad and son were watching the entire show!  The bird was headed directly at me stopping to strut and looking hard as he closed the distance my breathing went nuts and my left leg started shaking uncontrollably!  I tried to control my adrenaline rush as the bird closed; 70 yards strutting, 60 yards, 50 yards strutting again, and finally in my acceptable range.  I don't like to shoot a bird past 30 yards but I know my guns capable from lots of practice and once he hit 40 yards I knew he was mine.  He popped out of strut and started staring towards the field where I had left the boys and my decoy!  I couldn't understand why he didn't keep moving, but I knew he was close enough as I pressed my cheek down on the gun I realized he was almost completely blocked by a downed limb!  He went into strut again, then periscoped his head up high at which point I had a full view of his head and neck!  Just as I slipped the safety off he GOBBLED right in my face and again my leg started shaking!  I moved my heal literally a 1/2" or so and he immediately stuck his head up and looked my way.  If he had not raised his head up I would not have had a shot, but he did and I took a breath and squeezed the trigger!  The bird back flipped and in the words of my son "flew about four feet in the air!"

Before I could even pick up the empty shell I saw the boys headed across the timber towards me and I could see the smiles and hear the excitement in their voices!  It turned out Cannon couldn't see and Grandpa slid him over on his lap so he could see the show!  I also learned that there was a massive pile of dead wood and sticks from last flood and that bird would not walk across it.

A lot of high fives and celebrations and  few pictures and bird number 2 for the year was in the truck!  It was 10:20 A.M., we worked that bird for an hour straight.  He weighed in at 24 lbs. 2 oz, had a 9 1/4" beard, and very sharp 1 1/4" spurs.  It was an amazing hunt if I was by myself, but to share it with my dad and my son...what's better than amazing?

Three generations sharing a morning in the woods!

A "satellite tom" saves a dreary and cold spring (winter) day...

The morning of April 14, 2014, met with yet another rude entry to spring turkey season in Illinois as mother nature threw a nasty "one-two" punch with winds, rain, and temps in the low 40's as a big cold front passed through over night.  The sideways mist and high winds was enough to turn me away, but the power of "opening day" kept me headed towards the garage, as I grabbed the bill of my hat and pulled it down a little tighter.

The spring had has been late this year and I struggled to find or hear any birds on any of the farms I hunt, until the four days prior to the first day of season.  In that time frame I located a couple birds and managed to get eyes on them the morning and evening before the hunt.  Hours and hours of scouting gave me the extra boost of confidence I needed as I eased through the darkness to my per-determined set up.

I was over an hour early for fly down time, because my only options for a good set up were very close to the birds, or where I thought the birds would be.  The high wind and wet ground made my approach much easier and as I hit the middle of the field I placed my Dave Smith Hen decoy and eased to a tree to wait.

The birds I had seen in this area consisted of two gobblers, one who seemed to have all the hens each day and one that was alone strutting on the fringes, a satellite bird if you will.  I knew the boss would be tough with plenty of hens to go around so I focused on the satellite bird, and I had seen him in the very spot that I now waited just one morning ago.  Of course it was 30 degrees warmer the day before so the weather factor still had me nervous.

Fast forward an hour and fifteen minutes of sitting in the light rain and cold winds, and I have not heard a peep out of any birds and it is light enough they should be on the ground or at least thinking about it.  I let out a series of tree yelps and to my dismay...no response.  My second series of yelps was a little louder and with that I heard a faint half hearted gobble 150 yards to my right.

I sat overlooking a small bottom hay field, approximately 80 yards wide and 300 yards long, the bird that gobbled was in the timber at the end of the field 150 yards to my right.  I hit the call again and this time two birds answered and almost immediately a black blob appeared on the edge of the field.  The tom stepped out into the field, raised his head and looked my direction, then went into half strut and just stood there.  I coaxed him with the mouth call and he gobbled, along with the bird that was still in the trees behind him.

He took a few steps my way, but was in no way in a hurry to move towards the lone hen.  Just then the wind picked up and it began to rain harder, and the tom turned to head into the timber, and I was sure my hunt was ending.  However, as the first tom entered the timber, birds began flying down out of the trees, several hens and the other gobbler fluttered down through the branches into the timber, and as they did the first tom immediately headed back for the field.

His body language was entirely different this time and thought it sounds strange, I knew at that moment, even though he was 140 yards away, that he was going to be in front of my gun.  He trotted a few yards then popped into strut, as four hens and the second gobbler appeared on the field edge.  I hit the call to convince him and both birds gobbled.  Again he broke strut and started a fast walk towards me.  I got down on the gun and as a lefty, I had to peak to my right from time to time to watch him strut and walk, strut and walk, across the field to the hen decoy.  His white head shown with brilliance against the rain darkened surroundings and as he closed to 30 yards, he again went into full strut and closed the last 15 yards to the decoy in full strut.

I took one more look at the other bird and could tell he was noticeably bigger, but with the struggles finding birds and all the "coulda/shoulda" moments in the past, I decided a bird in hand was the way to go.  I settled the bead, and squealed on the call to make him raise his head and BOOOM, dead bird.  Bird 1 of 2014 on the ground.  He was an average 2 year old with a straight 9" beard, 3/4" spurs and weighed 21 lbs 6 oz. 

Spring Season

With spring approaching, my all out favorite season of all is on my mind....

Just ask my better half and you will find all the confirmation you need of my addiction, obsession, pre-occupation, with spring turkeys.  If I could hunt spring turkeys 24/7...I may fore-go all those other outdoor activities that I love so much, to me it is more than a bird and an excuse to get out in the "off-season," and less of a notion of the actual kill being important.  It's about those experiences, that are so much the same, and so different each year, that is what the spring turkey season is to me...

Spring season means a majestic gobbler pushing a young hunter's heart rate to the limit, as he charges across 300 yards of open terrain, stopping only long enough to display, but urgently closing the distance to avoid any competition.  Almost comical to watch as he tries to hurry AND take his time strutting at the same time.  The memory of a proud youth laying eyes on his first longbeard, after only minutes of hunting, and having  little understanding of how wary they can really be...and later learning that hunt was the exception, not the rule.

Spring season is the privilege of helping others close the deal on a bird that has been months or years in the making, and understanding those that I share the woods with appreciate it like I do, or one day hopefully will.  

Spring season is the site of a veteran hunter shaking like a rookie after an incredible hunt...and realizing he wasn't even the one that pulled the trigger.  It is the joy of tricking a bird and the frustration of a bird that does something different every morning...seemingly to spite you.

Spring season is a time of rebirth, mother nature gives passage to spring and it is simply a great time to be in the woods.  Everything is new, vibrant, and full of life, and the smells alone are refreshing to the body and the soul...and that is before the ole bird you are set up on opens up the morning with a thundering gobble.

Spring season to me is knowing the shot is the final piece...sometimes...but the experience is what I am really there for.  The guesses and second guesses, decoys/no decoys, slate/mouth call, set up here/there, sit tight/move, where will he come?

As it all comes together, the broad spectrum of dogwoods, red buds, and the colors of spring are reduced to a minute area down the barrel, painting a circle on the canvas of nature in perfect rhythm with my pounding heart.  When that tail fan appears or that white bobbing head, I am always overcome with a sense of completion...as I know the rest doesn't matter.