It seems like everything looks forward to the arrival of spring time. The flowers and trees anxiously wait for the last of the snow patches to melt, relieving them of their winter bonds. The elk and deer enjoy the new grass and forage that helps grow new antlers, currently wrapped in a sweater of velvet. For the wild turkey, the coming of spring means love. March and April are the breeding season for the turkeys. The older Tom turkeys display their fan, drum, and gobble in hopes of attracting a mate. Small skirmishes breakout between the Jakes as a "pecking order"is established. The more aggressive and healthy males win the rights to breed with the hens. Other Toms and Jakes stick around hoping to steal a few moments with a hen when the dominant Tom is attending other business, usually another hen. This year I was drawn again for one of my favorite areas, Unit 27. Dad and I have both had good luck hunting turkeys in 27. We've both taken turkeys in the fall, but had yet to take a big Gobbler in the spring. I was hunting alone this year and had taken 4 days off work to commit to taking a big Thunder Chicken. I saw one turkey as I was driving in to my secret camp site, which immediately put me in the "blood instinct" state of mind. I quickly set up camp in a beautiful grove of Oak and Ponderosa pines. I have 3 or 4 spots that usually hold turkeys or at least turkey sign, but I decided I would concentrate my efforts to one area that Dad and I usually see turkeys in. I also enjoy this particular spot because it seems everything in the woods love this area too. I always see deer, elk, and all kinds of colorful little birds. My first evening turned up a single hen and a few deer. After a great nights rest, I rose well before dawn to sneak into my spot again. The sun had just started considering rising when I creeped into my little valley. As I worked my way to my set up, I saw movement in the distance. A flock of turkeys was already in the clearing and had spotted me. Two hills, and two hours later the flock of turkeys had won the morning. Once you've been spotted by a turkey, the odds are stacked against you. I spent the rest of the day checking out my other spots. This resulted in a couple of quick uphill stalks, only to find the turkey I was chasing was a hen, therefore, off the menu. Over the next two days I hunted my little valley in the mornings and evenings and spent the afternoons exploring. I chased several birds, but no big Tom turkeys. As long as I'm seeing turkeys and getting chances to chasem', I'm content. My last morning had arrived too soon as always. My alarm jolted me awake at 3:45am and I hastily geared up, determined to be in place at the little valley before the turkeys arrived. As I parked my truck and loaded my pack with powerbars and fruit I heard a turkey gobble! There is something special about a turkey gobble in the spring. It is truly a wild sound. The hairs on the nape of my neck stood as I listened for another gobble to pin point the Tom's location. I slowly moved in the direction of the call. As I crested a hill with a clearing on top, I saw a flock of turkeys with three big gobblers displaying. I was so enthralled watching the Toms drum and display fiercely for the hens, I almost forgot what I was there to do. Almost. I put my camo mask and gloves on and shed my pack to make the stalk a little more quiet. I made a series of "yelps" with my box call to see if the Tom's might come to check out a lonely hen. Apparently I did not sound like a very attractive hen. The turkeys would respond to the call, but were hesitant to leave the flock. After watching for about 20 minutes, the turkeys started moving out of the clearing. This was my chance to figure out where they might head to and set up an ambush. I quickly came up with a plan. The idea is to back track and loop around out of sight of the birds. This would require me to climb yet another set of hills to get to a clearing I hoped the birds would move to. I eagerly climbed to the clearing. Crawling to the edge of the meadow, I scanned and saw no birds. I remained still and quiet, hoping the turkeys would show. After ten minutes, I made a series of calls. The series of calls were interrupted by a loud gobble, and close! I worked my way to the edge of the forest and started really hugging the cover. The Tom's had split from the flock and were coming up the hill towards me. With my heart pounding, and veins burning with adrenaline I moved further into the pine trees. I saw movement just below me and quickly set up for the shot. I tried to make a couple more yelps with my box call to keep the birds interested. I was so jacked with excitement the yelps came out sounding like nails on a chalk board. The spirits of the forest showed mercy as the turkeys disregarded that awful call and kept on coming. I waited for the lead Tom to show himself just beyond a fallen log. Finally after what seemed like an eternity, a big gobbler appeared right where I thought he would. I already had my shotgun leveled and ready. I was still out of breathe from climbing the hills, and crawling through the trees. I grabbed one deep breath and squeezed the shot off. Time seemed to slow way down and feathers lazily drifted in the morning sun's rays that cut through the tree limbs. I got up and ran to inspect my first Tom turkey! He was a stunning specimen with beautiful fan feathers and a long beard. I enjoyed every day I spent in the aspens, oaks, and pines of unit 27. Harvesting an animal is always fantastic, but to work hard for days and harvest an animal on the last morning is nothing less than magic.
Hunter Vocabulary:
Jake: An adolescent male turkey, 1 to 11/2 years old, short beard
Tom: A mature adult male turkey, sporting a longer black beard
Gobbler: Another name for an adult male turkey
Thunder Chicken: Hunter slang for big ol' Gobbler!
HUNT VIDEO JOURNAL
HUNT VIDEO JOURNAL
