Chasing Rio's With The Bad Boys

Bowhunting.net

Lisa Price
Chasing Rio's With The Bad Boys
By Lisa Price
May 19, 2006, 00:02

Sometimes it’s better not to think about things too much, but that’s hard to do when you’re spending a lot of time in a turkey blind. As I hope for a Rio Grande I mostly think about all the great people who are part of this hunt.

I try not to think about things that depress me, like the fact that earlier this morning two hens shamelessly, relentlessly and callously lured away the three long beards I’d called, or the fact that I’ve been sitting in a blind for seven hours with my underwear on my head.

Black underwear works fine in the blind

My friend Tes Randle Jolly, from Alabama, knows turkeys. She says I need to be wearing black in the blind. And the only piece of clothing I have with me that sort of works is, right, a pair of underwear. And actually, it works quite well for archery hunting, what with the strategic way the leg openings line up with my ears for ease in finding my anchor point.

As the Texas heat sizzles and addles the part of my brain responsible for rational thought, I begin to jot down possible designs and a marketing plan for a revolutionary new cap for bow hunters called the Bottoms Up. Then I slug down two bottles of Gatorade and get over it.

It’s a long, hot afternoon, barely saved by the breeze. The Bad Boy Buggy I’m using is parked about 200 yards away – it’s an electric, 4WD ATV, so quiet that I know I’ve slipped in to this spot undetected.

I call turkeys about every twenty minutes, and am visited first by a lone hen and then by a talkative party of nine hens. I do want a turkey, very badly, and I will the five jakes I passed on yesterday to return.

I know that all of us here in camp realize that this is one of the best hunts ever. Yes, there are plenty of turkeys, and Tes, Hunter’s Specialties national pro staffer Rick White and Real Hunters Journal editor Greg Martin all dust Rios with their shotguns. But it’s not just the abundance of turkeys.

Tes Jolly

Rick White

Greg Martin

Another thing that qualifies it for “best hunt” is that everybody wants to help everybody else. Any of us feel good knowing we have good friends, people who believe in us. That’s why everybody loves the ending of that movie, “It’s a Wonderful Life”, when the brother says, “Here’s to George Bailey, the richest man in town!”

Clint Bronson with Lisa

And somehow today, although the elastic of my underwear is lodged above my eyebrows, after two hens wrecked my plans, when I’m dog tired and nothing’s happened for hours, I feel pretty rich myself. An all-day sit in a turkey blind is a great time to think about all the things you’d like to do right, or at least, better. And you can always learn a lot from hunting, and hunters.

Outdoor writer Brenda Potts, Illinois, who put this hunt together, has been sleeping on a recliner in the living room. Her turkey hunting spot is farther away than ours, so she decided to sleep out there so she wouldn’t wake up Tes and I as she got ready to go, a half hour earlier.

Ronel Bronson & Brenda Potts

Clint Bronson has been cooking astounding meals for us. I’ve had the best steak I ever had in my life, and I was full when I started eating it. He has an encyclopedic knowledge of food and takes so many extra steps as he prepares a meal that it boggles my mind. His wife Ronel, a Bad Boy Buggies distributor, cares and worries about all of us and works to keep things running smoothly. She has just started shooting a bow.

Jim Willard, who would be called the Bad Boy Buggies marketing director if they had titles – they don’t like titles – could have a second career in stand up comedy. Plus on the way to the camp from the airport he has done something I’ve never seen a man do before, something so remarkable, so amazing, that I tried to dig out my camera, yes, he has stopped and asked for directions.

Between Tes, Rick White and Greg Martin, we’re hunting with some of the best turkey callers in the country. And that doesn’t happen overnight. Rick told me that he pretty much kept a diaphragm call in his mouth for three years, practicing everywhere he went, until he thought he could make it sound the way he wanted.

And I know Tes started early, thanks to her dad Ned, who used to tuck her hair up under her hat and call her “Harvey” so he could take her to a hunting camp.

And Tom Mansell, Bad Boy Buggies manufacturers representative agreed to stuff about ten of us into his two-bedroom camp because he “always wanted a place that I could share with people, where they could have fun and relax.” Tom just enjoys the outdoors.

The Gang, cramped but smiling

As different as we are, all of us have one thing in common – we are doing something we love. And another thing in common – I don’t think any of us wanted the Bad Boy Buggy hunt to end.

I didn’t get a turkey, but it’s one of the best hunts I’ve ever enjoyed. I take some solace in finding out what a Grim Reaper broadhead will do to a rattlesnake – it will nearly cut it in half. It’s not big enough for a belt – not unless I diet back to my high school weight – but it will make a nice headband.

A hat band in the making

There’s a time difference between my home state, Pennsylvania, and Texas, plus daylight savings time has happened. I’m sitting in the blind as my last day winds down, trying to figure out what time it actually is when it hits me – I already know. Time to apply the lessons I’ve learned from the hunt, and the hunters.

Be considerate. Take extra steps. Care about others. Don’t be afraid to ask for directions.
Be willing to practice as long as it takes and don’t stop learning.
Enjoy the outdoors and share it with others. Do whatever it takes to do what you love.
Don’t stop trying to find that dream life, whatever it is. And keep hunting, because it will lead you to the finest people in the world.

Here’s to hunters: the richest people in town.