Sunday, April 27, 2014

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!



Monday, April 14, 2014

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.