Turkey season

My turkey season ended last Sunday (19 April). I hunted long and hard all days.

My first three days were in the blind along the trail where the cameras had shown repeated movements. I waited three days and listened carefully. I saw a lot of wildlife, including some deer and heard quite a few unique sounds. I even heard a few gobbles. However, nothing came by in the three days, even when I was not there (love those trail cams). I am new to this type hunting, and tried to limit my calling. I felt confident that I was not very good. However, as the days passed, I began to call more.

With a strong background in planning and tactics, I know the value of sticking to the plan. I also know the folly of blindly sticking to it. After three days to frustration, I decided to move around the property. 58 acres gives room to roam. Day four started out at the blind, but after an hour I moved straight up to the top of the ridge, and then down the back. As I started down, I gave a few crow calls and even some aggressive hen yelps (not at the same time or location). I may not be the best caller, but I needed to get some idea where the gobblers were. I finally got a few responses to my efforts. At last, I had located some.

That evening’s hunt saw me in a secluded location, with a decoy out, two different calls within reach, and 4 more in my vest. I settled down, I tried sounding like a lovesick hen. I heard a response. We kept up the conversation for the next hour and a half. I kept trying to sound like I wanted the big guy to come over and meet me. He responded with a “come here girl” gobble. Finally, he lost interest and moved off. At least I had not scared him off with my calling. I knew there was a problem since I had to convince him to come across an old country road that separated my property from the neighbor’s farm.

Sunday morning was the last day. I headed out early, hiked to the spot with yesterday’s limited success. As I walked in, I made an occasional crow call or a few yelps. I heard a few responses. Finally, I reached my location, set up a decoy, and got covered up. I began calling and received a response; actually several. There were three separate groups of gobblers in earshot. Two were pretty far off, but one was just across the road and off to the left of me. I called, they (he?) responded. I kept this up, with long periods of silence. Lo and behold, he was coming closer. I slowed my calling to an occasional cluck to bring in that reluctant gobbler. He was still closing, but would not cross the road. We had been working each other for over an hour, but he was still coming, even if very slowly.

Suddenly, there was another hen call on the other side of the road, in the neighbor’s field. Good grief, where did this guy come from. He was not even as good a caller as I. Then I realized I had been beaten by the birds. It was a real hen (maybe several). No way could I outcall the real thing if they were on the other side of the road. I could imagine the gobbler(s) meeting the hen(s) and heading off. There was no further interest in my offerings.

That evening’s attempts were somewhat anti-climactic. There was no response to any of my calling at any location.

So the turkeys had emerged unscathed from my first attempt at turkey hunting. However, I had fun and learned quite a bit. Talking to some other locals, it was a tough opening period in this area. My wife’s permit kicks in on April 29. With what I learned, perhaps I can get one into range for her.

Anyhow, there is always next year (or actually, the fall season).