It’s Turkey Time!

Springtime is a great time to introduce youngsters to hunting. As anyone who has spent a fair amount of time in the woods knows, the fall season can be uncomfortable, cold, wet, and on those days when you sit on stand for hours and see nothing, discouraging. Spring Turkey season, one of my favorite seasons, tends to be more friendly, is usually action packed and always interesting. The first time you hear a gobble or a fly down cackle you will be hooked. I love it because I always know there is another day with a another chance.

I have hunted turkey in New York and Georgia and although the terrain is slightly different the strategy is basically the same. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't. As a kid, I remember sitting around the dinner table after a hard day of hunting, discussing who saw what and where we thought they would be the next day. If we were lucky, one of us would have roosted some birds and then we really started our plan of attack. We would draw maps and decide who would be where. We would get up the next morning and head off into the darkness to carry out our dastardly plan. Again, sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. But it was always fun.

A couple of years ago, before my son was born, we were hunting in Georgia on a lease that we still have today. My husband got to go more than I did and he kept telling me about this one bird he was hunting. "Almost got him today!" "Came real close this time!" "If I had just ______ I'd a had him!" This went on for a couple of weeks. So when we went together, I was real excited to see this bird. We counted and prior to this weekend my husband had six up close and personal experiences with this bird, close, but not close enough.

Saturday morning Jeff and I got up before light and set up in the area he had been seeing this bird. We called as it was beginning to get light and he answered. He sounded real close in the stillness of the morning. As the woods began to wake up, he gobbled on the roost a few more times and then on the ground. He would answer every time we called. But we soon realized he must be with some hens as he was moving away from us. We decided to go around and cut them off.

After a half-hour, round-about trek we had inched up to the edge of the field. He was still talking to us, about 100 yards in the field in full strut. We called, he answered! We called again, he came closer! But for every two steps he made toward us he seemed to take one step back. Jeff and I were sitting next to each other with our muzzles ready. My heart was pounding in my ears, I just knew this was it. We both watched, our hearts in our throats. Here he comes, closer, closer, almost in range and then a hen distracted him and he idled on down the field away from us. Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh! Shall we call this life number seven? Certainly, we did and consequently, we started calling him "Morris".

It was time to return to camp for some lunch and some strategy. This bird was ‘kicking our butts’. We decided we needed to get him before he got to his hens. This bird was a real Casanova. That afternoon we headed back to the field with the intention of roosting him for the next morning. When we got to the corner of the field he had been hanging out at. We called, no answer. We sat and listened, nothing.

It was getting late and he was no where to be seen. Disappointed, we started back to camp walking the edge of the field just inside the tree line, not paying much attention. Suddenly, I grabbed Jeff's shirt. STOP! DON'T MOVE! In another field around the bend from where we had been. There he was. 150 yards out, breeding a hen. What a sight! It happens real fast. He finished his business, the hen shakes herself, like, thank God that's over! And, he begins to strut!

"Come on baby, strut right on over here." A little closer, a little closer. Soft clucks and purrs, a little closer, seventy yards, sixty-five, sixty-five, sixty-five. Damn! That bird has a sixth sense about him! We watched him as he headed for the field he had been in that morning. It was getting darker, but now we knew right where he's roosted. Tonight was life number eight. He has one more left as the story goes. Good night Morris, sweet dreams.

Well, we better get it right tomorrow. It will be the best chance we've had so far. We about have him pin pointed and will have to get him before he gets with his hens. We called in a recruit. A good friend of ours, Brian Mosher, got into camp that night. He agrees to go with us in the morning.

We get up with plenty of darkness ahead of us. When we get to the field, the guys can't decide where they want to sit. It's starting to break light. I said, "We're gonna blow this! I don't know where you’re sitting, but I'm sitting right here." So I back myself into a big blowdown on the edge of the field, right were Morris had disappeared the night before. I figured he's maybe 50 yard in the woods and is going to head right for the field. The guys both go to my left up the hill.

As light breaks, he gobbles. He is right behind me at about twenty-five yards. Talk about a thrill. I'm sitting facing the field when I hear a soft ‘crunch’ to my right. I strain to see and come eye to eye with a hen. Don't move. She's about five yards from me. Suddenly, I FEEL him drum. He must be just behind the blow down. Oh God, he's going to follow her right out into the field and POW! I'm gonna get him. Right? WRONG! He gobbles and starts heading toward Brian and Jeff. He's heading up the tree line. I wait with anxious anticipation wondering why they aren't shooting. Where could he have gone? About five minutes go by. Then suddenly, BANG! It's over. He had walked out in front of Jeff about thirty yards.

Well, "WE" did it! You couldn't have written it any better. Nine was the magic number. I have great respect for that bird. We honored him at Thanksgiving that year.

I sometimes get a lot of grief for not hunting turkey's with a bow. Believe me I have great respect for anyone who does and especially for those who are successful at it and MUZZY makes some great broadheads and attachments for turkey hunting.( I do use our MUZZY ‘SlateMate’ and have found it to be invaluable, I don't know how I did without it before.) But so far, I have enjoyed the challenge only with a shotgun. That's hard enough. My major interest lies in promoting all hunting not just archery. If we lose any of our seasons, we all lose.

The key to promoting and protecting the future of hunting is to get the kids involved at all levels. That means getting women involved too! Anyone who hunts, enjoys the outdoors and the challenges it offers has something to give to make sure it’s there for our future generations. Most hunters I know have the desire to try all aspects of hunting. So whether it be bowhunting, rifle hunting, shotgunning, or fishing, take a kid out this spring. Our future depends on it. Mom always says, "If you do everything right and you don't get the bird, you did everything wrong. But if you do everything wrong and you get your bird, you did it right."

Put a bow or shotgun or fishing pole in a kids hand. When you do that you are definitely doing something right!