Wednesday, March 26:
Finally!...turkey season has arrived! Hit the road early headed west for my first hunt of the year. (Note: a BIG THANKS to Avidnwoutdoorsman for turning me on to this hunt). Met up with my two hunt companions and arrived at our designated campsite rendezvous mid-afternoon. Drove around to assess hunting conditions and possible hunt locations (this is a REALLY big place) after setting up camp. The entire area is in the midst of a long dry spell and many of the water sources available to turkeys in the past were now dry, giving us concern about how it would impact turkey distribution and numbers in the area.
Even so, driving around, we spotted a group of twelve gobblers along the way in one spot, easing our fears a bit but at the same time raising our concern that they were still in the winter gobbler-flock mode...no hens in sight. We split up at sunset to try to locate gobblers for the next morning. Quite surprised that tried and true locator tactics failed to raise a single gobble for any of us, we went to bed very concerned with the outlook for the next morning.
Thursday, March 27:
The three of us split up an hour before daylight, headed to different areas. I chose a high ridge where I could hear in all directions for gobbling and was in place for listening for gobbling well before first light. As the eastern horizon began to lighten, I was confident it was just a matter of time before the first gobbler sounded off.
The first gobbles heard were from the vicinity of where we had seen the gobbler group, which was just on the edge of my hearing well over a mile away (we had stayed out of that location due to another camp being set up nearby...assuming one or more hunters from that camp would be hunting there). A bit later, I heard distant gobbles from the area one of my buddies was supposed to be near, so I chose not to head for them. Fully expecting to hear gobbling in my "hunt zone", I was disappointed when nothing sounded off.
About fly-down time, I moved towards the first gobbler group heard mainly just to see if I could tell if someone was hunting them. They were roosted on the edge of a half-mile-wide open field across from my location and I sat and listened and watched through binoculars to see if I could spot them or any hunter that might be on them. The gobblers were now silent...and I was hearing no calling to indicate someone was there. After a bit, I decided I would head that way to see if I could make contact with the gobblers, and also look for any evidence that they were being hunted by someone else.
I couldn't raise a response from any of the gobblers...but looking around for any evidence that anybody had been hunting them, I could find nothing to indicate that was the case. I headed back to camp to see if my hunting companions had had any luck and was surprised to hear that neither of them had heard any gobbling at all and had also not been able to raise a response from a tom. (As it turned out, the one buddy who I thought was in the area I had heard the other gobbling from was not close enough to hear those).
In the afternoon, we drove around looking at other locations to hunt and found another group of gobblers in one spot. At sunset that evening, we again split up to try to roost gobblers...and again, none of us could raise a gobble. Very unusual, indeed.
Discussing our strategies for the next morning, my buddies decided they would head for the area we had found that afternoon to try those gobblers...and I decided I would head for the group near the big open field. Our plans were in place.
Friday, March 28:
Well before daylight, I park across from where I think the gobbler group had roosted the night before and head across the open grassland well before first light. I get to the tree line fifteen minutes before I expected the first gobble to be heard, chose a location I figured I would hear them from...and waited. I waited...and waited...and waited...and no gobbling!
It was well past "gobble-thirty" and I was concluding the gobblers were not around, thinking they had gone over the ridge to the north to roost out-of-earshot. Reluctantly, I decided to retrace my steps back to my truck and head for another location to try to raise a gobbler. I was 150 yards out into the open field when, all of a sudden, a gobble rings out from right above where I had been standing three minutes before!
Grumbling to myself, I quickly head back towards the tree line, all the while thinking the jig is up for this hunt. Before I am back to the trees, several other gobblers from the group have sounded off in various spots up the hillside surrounding a small draw. However, once I am again in a hidden position, I am relieved...and shocked...that the gobblers are still sounding off as if they had not seen me, for some unfathomable reason, walking across the open field right out in front of them. One of them turns out to be REALLY close, and I am totally amazed that he hadn't sounded the alarm to all the others,...but "it is what it is"...and in a state of disbelief, I accept my good fortune.
Regardless, at this point there was no way for me to get to where I am thinking I need to be to set up, so I just sit down behind a small cedar at the edge of the field, figuring I am just going to have to play the hand that has been dealt.
I sit listening to about a dozen gobblers sounding off on the hillside behind and beyond me, waiting for fly-down time to see what happens. Then, at one point, I hear what sounds to be a hen give out a single series of yelps up the hill near the closest gobbler. Thinking "what the heck" at this point, I give out a single series of "morning greeting" tree yelps back.
Shortly, I hear wing beats as the closest gobbler flies down into the hillside above me...rather than out into the open field in front. I don't hear any of the others fly down but soon see the backs of turkeys (the grass in the field is just about back-high to a turkey) filtering into the field from the draw about 120 yards away. Looking through binos, these turkeys look like hens to me in the pre-sunrise light and I am figuring that I am dealing with a mixed flock of birds...generally a really bad combination, especially considering where I am set up.
Regardless, I send out a series of hen yelps followed by a short series of jake/gobbler yelps, hoping to play the "jake/hen card" on the group. I can see three turkeys at this point and a couple of them raise their heads and look my way...a remotely promising sign. They mill around in sight for a bit and then one of them takes a few steps towards me...and then the other two do the same.
I am thinking "hey, there's hope here". The three turkeys (I am convinced they are hens at this point due to their non-descript-looking head size and coloration) are slowly feeding towards me, looking up every so often. Every couple of minutes, I give them the same series of soft hen yelps followed by a short series of coarse jake/gobbler yelps. Slowly they keep coming on towards me, soon cutting the distance from the original 120 or so yards to sixty...and then about fifty.
Again, thinking I am dealing with hens here, I have not even got my gun in position...it laying on the ground next to me. As they approach shotgun range, suddenly the closest one turns sideways...and I immediately see a significant beard hanging from its breast! I am thinking...'bearded hen"...but decide I should at least pick up my shotgun, so I slowly reach down and start bringing it into position. Fortunately, the straggly cedar tree I am behind allows me to do so without notice.
I watch intently as the second turkey also turns sideways...and there is a long beard on that one, as well. I ask myself,..."Hmmm, what are the odds that there are two long-bearded hen turkeys running together around here?" and the old light-bulb suddenly comes on. These are NOT hen turkeys! They are the gobblers I heard...and they are coming to investigate! During their approach, not once had they gobbled or strutted, and their dull head coloration had fooled me.
Urgency now sets in and I figure I need to get the gun into "ready" position as the first gobbler reaches thirty yards. I get the gun up right as the second gobbler moves in right behind the first...and they stand there looking...and looking. I am a bit nervous that they are going to turn and walk off without separating and allowing me to shoot. I hold and wait. Luckily, in a few seconds, they separate...and I pull the trigger on the first bird. He goes down in a heap and it is over.
Soon I am putting my hands on another beautiful high-mountain gobbler, and as I sit and admire him as I fill out and attach my tag, I am frankly shocked that it has worked. Everything had pointed towards this morning being anything but successful. That's one of the fascinating things about it. You never know what is going to happen...but there is always the chance, no matter the odds, that something good will! As always, I am thankful beyond words to be able to be here...
The background is the wide-open field I crossed...
(https://i.imgur.com/eBXm7dHm.jpg)
Congrats GobbleNut.
Wow! That was a great read. Congrats on a great hunt. :icon_thumright:
Well done Jim and very good write up's.
Some people just live right
Awesome hunt and great read Jim, Congratulations!
Nice Jim! I am very happy for ya. You must be living right sir.
Well done Jim. Sometimes it just works out, others it doesn't. Glad this went the right way
I have said that is a hunt I always want to go back to. It is some of the coolest country I have ever been to and one of my favorite hunts. Congrats!
The birds just don't ever seam to follow the script there.
Funny thing is my girls are 2hrs away at there grandpas rights now and I'm here in the rain and the cold waiting...
Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk
Good job Jim :icon_thumright: Glad your season is started, this thread will make for a nice read this spring!
Awesome and congrats. The write ups were great.
Thanks everybody for the kind words. My next hunt isn't until mid-April so the log will be on hiatus for a couple of weeks.
In the meantime, here's hoping that everybody else is either having a great season...or is getting ready to do so! :icon_thumright: :)
I won't hunt until the 12th but I will be guiding the wounded warrior / handicapped hunt this weekend. I was out this morning scouting and I wish I had a hunter with me, they were on fire
Congratulations Jim. Great story.
Way to go Jim! Nice job...congrats
Monday, April 14th
Heading out this afternoon with a couple of buddies for the NM opener starting tomorrow. Expecting a major "cluster" for the next couple of days...but hey, gotta get out there anyway! ;D Should be a three-ringer! ...Will report back on Wednesday...assuming I survive... ;D
Good luck to all who may be out there, as well. Stay safe...shoot straight... :icon_thumright: :D
Good luck Jim! Already eager to read your hunt resume! ;D
Tuesday April 15th:
After arriving late Monday at the location I had chosen for us to hunt, we were disappointed to find the trio of gobblers I had seen a few days prior were nowhere to be found, and the only gobblers we heard were in a very difficult location to get to behind private ground. After discussion, the three of us decided to move to another spot about an hour away...which took us well past roosting time after dark.
Sooo,...we got up an hour before daylight opening morning resigned with having to go in "blind" without any gobblers located. On the positive side, there was nobody else in the area, which really surprised me. Having hunted here numerous times before, I was certain we would hear gobblers...just possibly not on the public stuff we could hunt.
We were camped in a location on a ridge that afforded hearing into two vast drainages and as the skies began to lighten well before sunrise, we listened intently for distant gobbling. As anticipated, the first gobble rang out from well into the off-limits big private holding...then another...and another. On the public side...nothing.
We gathered our gear and moved in the direction of the closest birds, which were several hundred yards into the private ground. I knew it would be "iffy" for these gobblers to come to investigate, but with no other options, we moved towards them and waited for good daylight and fly-down. We hit them with an assortment of long-distance calling, but as expected, it proved to be futile and after convincing ourselves none of the birds we could hear were moving our way, we made a plan to "walk and talk" along a ridge that ran for a couple of miles to the north.
We worked the ridge out to the end and back again and, although there was evidence that turkeys were around somewhere, we could not raise a gobble. Mid-morning we regrouped at camp, made breakfast, and discussed strategy. I was pretty certain that at least a couple of the gobblers we had heard on the private stuff were close enough to hear our early calling and I suggested we work back through that area to see if anything had moved closer to the property line.
A little before noon, we started back down that way. We had gotten only a couple of hundred yards from camp along the property boundary and I stopped and called. Gobbles rang out immediately three hundred yards into the private. Another series of yelps a couple of minutes later brought multiple gobbles that were definitely closer! We might be in business and there were at least two birds on the way!
We quickly backed up from the fence to look for set-ups. My compadres ducked into the shade of a couple of close-by cedar trees, as did I. Sitting down, I was concerned that I could not see much of the area down the slope towards where the gobblers would most likely approach and thought to myself "I should really take a standing position for this". The decision not to do so would soon come back to haunt us.
The gobblers were making a bee-line towards us and I thought that, assuming they would come across the fence-line, this was looking like a done deal. Expecting them to show on the slope below us at any second, I was kind-of surprised that they suddenly stopped advancing about a hundred yards away and still out of sight. Calling sporadically every few minutes, they would gobble but were hung up.
Playing the "silent treatment" game is not my forte, but after a bit, it was apparent that something besides what we were doing was needed, so we just shut-up. We waited...and waited...and waited. No gobblers approaching...at least not where me and one of my friends were sitting.
After a while, I was giving up on the gobblers showing so I called again to see if they would answer. Nothing. We waited. I called again. Nothing. In my mind, the gobblers had faded back away and were gone. The two of us to the right side looked at each other and started gathering our gear to move on. Our buddy to the left, who was just out of sight from us, finally got up and walked over to us.
As it turned out, what we on the right side could not see is that three mature gobblers had come up the slope just out of sight from us, had crossed the fence, and circled around above us...all the time being completely silent. They had come and gone without the two of us knowing they were anywhere around. Our "left-side" buddy had not taken the gimmee shot they had offered him, thinking that the other two of us were aware they were close and we might be able to also get shots, as well. (Back to my point about thinking I should have taken a standing position...I would have seen them coming and the outcome would likely have been totally different).
We worked the area a while longer without raising another response and eventually returned to camp for an afternoon break. We basically wimped out on hunting anymore in the afternoon. Right before dark, we each went separate ways to try to roost gobblers. As luck would have it, at least two gobblers roosted on the public side on a ridge not far from our camp in a spot I knew quite well from past hunts here.
A plan was made for the next morning...
Wednesday April 16th
An hour before daylight, we work our way down the ridge the gobblers are roosted on. They are out on a point where the ridge drops off into a big canyon and I am thinking I can get us pretty close to them under the cover of darkness and so we move out to the point and wait for that first gobble. When it comes, I am surprised that it sounds much further away than I had anticipated...and my first thought is that this is another gobbler and not the ones on the point...so again we wait.
Over the next five minutes, that gobbler continues to gobble, all the time with me thinking he will set off closer ones...but after several minutes, there is nothing closer and I wave to my buddies to follow me. They are confused as to why as they had not heard the gobbles at all (such is one of the downfalls of the aging process for us old guys, but fortunately, I still hear gobbling turkeys pretty darn well!) :D
We move down the slope towards the gobbler, which I am thinking is a couple of hundred yards away. It is getting light enough now that I am concerned he might pick off three human figures moving towards him and decide to stop short at a point where we have decent visibility in the direction of the gobbler. A trio of large pines close together offer the perfect set-up...and we sit.
The tom continues to gobble as full light approaches...and with no other gobblers joining in from anywhere else. This is confusing in that I know we had heard at least one other gobbler the previous evening. Oh well. We are hearing no other turkeys, including hens at the time I would have expected them, and it is getting near fly-down. I decide to let him know we are there and give him a series of soft clucks and yelps. He responds immediately. Again, we wait.
He gobbles a few more times...and then, nothing. It is time for turkeys to be getting on the ground so I give him the fly-down wing-beat trick. Silence. I add a few more soft clucks and yelps over the next few minutes with no responses. I have been the only one calling up to this point so I whisper to my buddies to add a couple more hen voices to the mix. They are just starting to get ready to call when suddenly, just out of sight below us, multiple gobbles ring out! I immediately say "get your guns up and ready, there are at least two of them, and they are coming".
We watch intently for these gobblers to show up below us...and wait again. I decide to give them another soft series of yelps and they immediately gobble back but have moved to our left just out of sight below a slight roll in the slope. The shooters adjust to the gobbles, thinking they are going to appear in range at any second...but they do not.
I offer another series of soft clucks and yelps...and again they respond, but have moved further up the slope, now perpendicular to us on the same level, forty yards away, but still just out of sight. They are circling to approach from above! There is a slight rise above us and I realize I can stand up behind my pine out of their sight...so I do so. One of my cohorts sees me get up and does the same, moving up to the tree I am at, as well. I tell him to get his gun up and be ready if the gobblers pop out.
Again I call, and the gobblers answer just out of our sight. My buddy is ready and then, suddenly, one of the gobblers clears the brush, offering a clear shooting lane. The shot rings out almost instantly. I quickly head up the slope ("quickly" being relative to our age group) as one gobbler flies off down the slope to the right. I clear the first line of brush and see another gobbler running off to the left out of gun range.
I am thinking "oh no, he missed"...but continue walking up the slope towards where the gobbler had been at the shot...and there, laying right where he should be, was a motionless gobbler. My buddy had got him after all! At thirty yards, I shouldn't have doubted it for a second.
The gobbler was a nice, mature two-year-old...just what we figured with three gobblers running together without hens. We also concluded that these were the same three gobblers we had encountered the day before that had given us the slip in that they behaved exactly the same way. At any rate, it was a great way to end this short, day-and-a-half hunting excursion. One gobbler was good enough for this trip.
After the obligatory pictures, video, and hunt re-hashing, we headed back to camp for coffee, a quick breakfast...and then loaded up and headed out for the two-hour drive back to our houses. With a month-long season ahead of us, there is no need to rush things!
(https://i.imgur.com/AVP28Uvl.jpg)
The Three (Old) Amigo's Huntin' Team ;D :D
congrats guys
Congrats Jim and friends,
Great write up Jim, you would be a good story teller around a campfire
Nice job Jim! Your turkeys look very nice with the white/beige line they have on the tail feathers. Hope you have a great season with your friends!
Sunday, April 20th
One of my buddies and I decide on a short, overnight trip to one of my "secondary" locations...a spot I found and hunted briefly in 2024. We arrive a couple of hours before sundown in an effort to possibly roost a gobbler or two. Luckily, I hear gobblers in three distant locations...but unluckily, they are far enough away that I can't pinpoint them, for sure, and very probably will be very difficult to get to.
I am not at all confident about what may transpire the next morning, but at least we know where there are some gobblers...if we can just get to them.
Monday, April 21st
As usual, we are up well before first light. Over coffee, we discuss strategy and decide to head for the one gobbler that we MIGHT be able to get to as this area has pockets of VERY thick, impenetrable brush...and we are also VERY unfamiliar with getting around in the area.
At daybreak, we are listening for gobbling as close to where I think I heard this gobbler the evening before...and sure enough, he obliges by lighting up right on time. Unfortunately, he is three hundred yards away and right in the middle of one of the worst thickets. In short, there is no way for us to get on him as far as we can tell. We walk the perimeter of the thicket trying to find a way into where he is roosted, but without a machete to chop our way through, we are out of luck.
We have worked our way around the thicket, away from where we had started out, when another gobbler sounds off...right from where we had been standing! We turn and head back that way, but we have to walk across an open area to get there...and when we do, this gobbler goes silent, making us assume he has seen our approach. We never hear him again.
By now, it is fly-down time, so I call to see if the gobbler in the thicket will respond. He immediately gobbles back, making us think there may be some hope that he may come towards us. He does not. For the next half hour, we look for a way into where he is at...me calling every once in a while, and him answering right back...but always from the same spot. We have to find a way to get closer.
Again, we start walking the perimeter of the thicket, looking for a way into it. Eventually, we find a route, but it is further away from the gobbler and after meandering around, we realize this track will not get us to where we need to be...so we backtrack to the original location. Walking the opposite direction, we finally see an opening in the brush-line that looks like we might be able to make some progress towards the gobbler...which is still answering my calling from the same spot.
We weave our way through the brush but it takes a while...and eventually we make our way into the area where we thought the gobbler had been roosted. By now, he has apparently flown down and has shut up, so we weren't certain exactly where he had been. However, in the sandy soil, we found fresh tracks...of a gobbler and what looked like several hens.
We headed in the direction the tracks led...and eventually he gobbled not all that far in front of us. We set up, thinking he might come back to take a look, but our optimism proved to be unfounded as he did not. Although he responded to calling and we used all the tactics we could think of to break him, he eventually moved off...probably following his hens. There was no way for us to relocate to get in front or find a better calling position due to the brush...and eventually we lost contact altogether.
We spent the rest of the morning trying to sort out how to get around in the area for future efforts, calling along the way but never getting another response. Late morning, we bagged it and headed home.
...We will be back at some point...and if the gobbler roosts in the same thicket, we now know how to get in there with him...although I might need to bring the machete next time... :icon_thumright: ;)
Thursday, April 24th
Headed out this afternoon for my first "serious" NM hunt. Will be gone for a few days this time. The weather is questionable...supposed to have a couple of days of high winds over the weekend and the possibility of some precipitation...but I/we (five of us in camp this time) should have a good chance of success. I will hopefully have some positive reports when all is said and done.
As always, best of luck to all those OG members who are out there after 'em! :icon_thumright: :icon_thumright: :icon_thumright:
Wishing you and your buddies a Safe and Successful hunt Jim!!
Thursday, April 24th (continued)
Arrive at same location hunted with buddies earlier in the season in late afternoon. My intention is to check out an area we had found lots of sign in on the previous outing about a mile in. I immediately find fresh strut marks close to where I have parked and think..."This is going to be easy. I'll probably kill a gobbler this afternoon before dark". ...Not to be.
Walking along toward the area where we had found the abundant sign a week earlier, I am surprised that any new sign there has petered out. The turkeys have moved, it appears, and the fresh sign I found next to the truck is most likely where. I head back as "roost-thirty" approaches...hoping to locate a gobbler at dark. ...Also not to be...which also surprises me that I don't hear a single gobble.
I "hit the sack" in my truck that night hoping that I will hear the gobblers that were making the nearby strut marks in the morning.
Friday, April 26th
At first light, I am out listening for gobbling at the truck. If there are any gobblers nearby, I should be able to hear them from this spot as I am parked on a high ridge with deep canyons on both sides. Luckily, the morning is calm and gobbling can be heard easily a mile or more away from here. As always, though, half of my "hearing area" is on private land...and as is often the case, the first (and only) gobbling I eventually hear is coming from well inside the private boundary. I head towards the fence-line with hopes of pulling one of the two or three gobblers I can hear towards my location. Again, not to be.
This will be a quick hunt as I will be moving on to another location to meet up with several buddies and after ascertaining that none of the gobblers are headed my way, I head back to the truck to hit the road. Unfortunately, "the road" I choose to take out of this spot is a rough SOB and I end up having the pleasure of changing a tire on my truck half-way out of the area. ...Bummer.
After a detour to get the tire fixed, I head to the required check-in location for the hunt and then on to our (five of us) chosen camp location. As the "evening roost" approaches, we all split up to head out to try to locate gobblers for the next morning. I have a specific spot in mind, and as luck would have it, I locate a likely candidate roosting on a ridge about half a mile from the road. I formulate my plan for the next morning...and returning to camp, I find that the others have found gobblers as well. After the evening strategy session, we all go to bed optimistic about the next morning's possibilities.
Saturday, April 26th
This is opening morning for this "special opportunity" hunt and I am optimistic as I leave camp an hour before first light. I park at the base of the ridge "my" gobbler is on, gather my gear, and head up towards where I think he is at. Thirty minutes later, I am standing high on the ridge catching my breath...and waiting for him to greet the morning.
When the first gobble rings out, I move towards him further up the ridge. A few minutes later, I am close and choose a set-up above him about a hundred yards up-slope and with a screen of pine trees between his roost and my location. After settling in, I wait as he continues to gobble...and soon another gobbler starts up down the ridge in the direction I had come up...and at least one more bird lights up further up the ridge just at the edge of earshot. Things are looking good for the morning.
As the sky lightens, I begin to hear hens tree-calling near the gobbler...a situation that could complicate matters a bit. Nevertheless, I decide to join in...and offer up a few soft clucks and yelps to let the gobbler know there is a new girl in town. He gobbles right back. Again, I wait.
The gobbling increases from all directions for a while...and as fly-down arrives, I can tell that the distant gobbler down the ridge has flown down and started up towards the birds below me. This is a good sign as I am thinking the more gobblers that are near, the better the odds that one will come up to take a look. I give the old wing-beat fly-down and then a series of "I'm-on-the-ground-now hen yelps". Both gobblers respond...and with the down-ridge gobbler closing the distance steadily.
Soon, it sounds like all of them...gobblers and hens...are on the ground just out of sight below me. Every couple of minutes, I yelp softly, adding occasional on-the-ground wing beats to imitate a hen stretching her wings after a night of sitting on a tree limb. Gobbling from below indicates that they seem to like it.
I cautiously scan the slope below, hoping to see a full fan strutting into sight at any moment...and suddenly, to my left, one appears! This gobbler has sort-of caught me off-guard in that I was not expecting one to appear where he came from, but fortunately, he is headed up-slope and will strut behind a couple of big pines that will allow me to move my gun into position. When he appears again at eighteen yards, I am on him and pull the trigger.
Head shot, he starts flopping...and the slope is steep enough that he quickly flops out of sight below me as I struggle to get my old legs under me and start the pursuit after him. His floppage is faster than my stumbling after him and I am cursing as he manages to flop a couple of hundred yards down-slope...a slope I really don't want to have to climb back up...before I can corral him. Also, in the chase, he has flopped...and I have stumbled...right through the middle of the rest of the turkeys, most likely scaring the bejesus out of them and making future attempts at another gobbler here that much harder.
Nonetheless, I final capture him, throw him over my shoulder, and start the steep trudge back up the mountain to where my backpack and gear lay. Eventually, I do make it back without "succumbing" myself, and after catching my breath, I sit and admire another magnificent mountain Merriam's gobbler. Once again, I have been blessed to be here and do this one more time.
One more tag left to go on this hunt...more to come...
Here he is, although looking pretty ragged after loosing a significant number of his feathers in his "post-shot" journey down the mountainside...and me in "recovery pose" :D
(https://i.imgur.com/1vaS8mwl.jpg)
Congrats Jim, awesome hunt and write up!! Good luck on the next one, hopefully in a flat field.
Quote from: JeffC on April 30, 2025, 11:44:46 AMCongrats Jim, awesome hunt and write up!! Good luck on the next one, hopefully in a flat field.
:D Not much chance of that around here, Jeff. Everything is pretty much straight up and down. At one time, I was quick enough (and young enough) to get to them before they started their down-hill floppage...not so much anymore. I just try my best to keep them in sight on their descent...and hope they get hung-up in a brush pile somewhere along the way. :angel9:
Good job, Jim! Glad your putting a pooping on them.
:icon_thumright: another nice one congratulations.
Sunday, April 27th
While hunting the gobblers I was set-up on the day before, I had heard gobbling from further up the ridge/canyon I was on, so I made plans to move into that area on Sunday morning. My two regular hunting buddies were anxious for us all to go together, so before daylight, we drove as close as we could and walked up the ridge to a good listening point and waited for the gobbling to begin. Right on schedule, it did, and the first gobbles came from directly below where we were listening about two hundred yards away. We moved closer and set up in a triangle above the gobbler. In the distance, I could hear several other gobblers that were roosted together tearing it up and I made a mental note as to where I thought they were so we could move to them at some point.
Nearing fly-down, I let the gobbler know a hen was eager for him to come up the hill to us. He continued to gobble, but stayed where he was until I was convinced he didn't want to play with us, at which point I got up and told my compadres that we were moving on to the other gobblers I was hearing. They were quite a distance away and I wanted to get to them before they shut up, but by the time we trudged up the ridge to where I thought they were, they had shut up.
We worked through the area, calling as we went, but could not raise a gobble. We reached the end of the ridge where it dropped off into another major drainage, at which point we made the decision not to go there...and so we turned back and started to retrace our steps. All along, I had been calling with a mouth call, followed by one of my buddies calling with a box. On the edge of a draw leading into the main drainage, I called...no response. My buddy hit the box...and resounding gobbles range out from the draw below us about two hundred yards away. (Note to self: carry and use a box call more often, you dummy).
We were in a relatively good spot for setting up quickly but before doing so, I wanted to make sure the gobblers were indeed interested in coming up to us and told my friend to call again. An immediate response came back from the gobblers and it was apparent they were on their way. We each took a position, again in a triangle with the caller in the middle and back a bit from the two shooters (note: the caller was not shooting in that he had already filled both of his tags). Again, he hit the box, and the gobblers were closing the distance...but were looping around to our left as they came up the hill.
Looking that way, there was a clear lane which I figured they would come into...so I repositioned facing that lane and got my gun up. In the meantime, our other shooter, who was just below me against a big pine, was continuing to face down the hill towards where the initial gobbling has started and was making no move to adjust to the gobbler's approach at all (this would come into play a little later in the story).
Again, our caller hit the box...and simultaneous gobbling came from just out of sight below the lane I was focused on. I figured it was a matter of seconds before they would appear...and sure enough, a few seconds later, the first red head popped into view, then a second, followed by a third. I was immediately on the first bird but hesitated in hopes my shooter-buddy would get his "stuff" together and somehow get into shooting position on the birds. Glancing down at him, there he sat facing down the hill...and with his shotgun leaning up against the pine tree next to him.
I decided it was time to shoot the one I was on and pulled the trigger. ...CLICK! I mentally kicked myself! When hunting with others, I never chamber a round until a gobbler is engaged...and in the fast-moving excitement of the moment, I had failed to jack a round in! I said to myself, "you've been at this way too long to make that rookie mistake"...but here I was.
I quickly jacked a shell in, fully expecting the gobblers to take note...but they somehow did not. This indiscretion on my part did give them time to get bunched up...now leaving me no chance for a shot without killing at least two of them...and maybe all three. I kept the beads on them, waiting for the needed separation.
It was about this point that our other shooter down the hill from me decided that perhaps he should try to get his gun into position...and so he reached back, grabbed the tree-leaning weapon, and brought it around in a big sweeping arc over his head towards the gobblers...which were standing in a group fifteen yards away. Suffice it to say that they took immediate notice of the movement...and came to full attention.
Fortunately for me, they decided to depart by fast-stepping right back into the lane I was aiming down...and fortuitously separated apart in doing so such that I had a clear shot at a single gobbler...which I took. He went down in a heap and began the normal down-hill floppage. Watching him, he seemed to still have at least part of his "faculties" about him as he flopped away, so I struggled to my feet as quickly as I could (which ain't too quick anymore) and stumbled after him. As he rounded a big pine going out of sight below me at forty yards, I decided I needed to make sure he wasn't going anywhere and so I shot him again for good measure, although thinking about it afterwards, I concluded it probably wasn't necessary and would now require significantly more meat inspection in order to avoid future trips to the dentist due to "TSS chipped-tooth syndrome" that I hear is going around.
As luck would have it...and finally be on my side for once...he got caught up in some brambles and I corralled him without too much more descent and after he was still, lugged him back up the hill. After a short "what the heck were you thinking?" session with our other shooter, we took pictures and took time to savor the moment and recount the proceedings from each of our perspectives. Afterwards, I slung another beautiful gobbler over my shoulder and headed back towards the truck. In summary, and as is always the case when spring gobbler hunting...life is good, and I am grateful.
...And here's the obligatory grip and grin photo: :)
(https://i.imgur.com/FsKek3kl.jpg)
Thursday, May 1st
I had made no plans to go out again for several more days, but looking at the weather projections, the only decent day for the next week was going to be today...so I decided to make a morning run north to the area my buddy and I had hunted on April 21st and 22nd. Having a better idea how to negotiate the prevalent thickets there from our last effort, I planned on being in place near where last week's gobbler had roosted, hoping he would be somewhere close again. At first light, I was there waiting for the first gobble.
When it came, I was relieved that he was still in the area (on public land, you never know if someone else has killed a gobbler that was there a week ago). In addition, he was half as far into the thicket as he was the week before, making me think he might be more likely to venture my way once it was time to call. I let him continue to gobble without responding until near fly-down and then gave him a series of soft tree clucks and yelps. He immediately responded, as well as a second gobbler that was with him.
They were quickly on the ground and sounded as if they were moving my way but then, from further into the thicket, a hen starting yelping. I increased my own calling in an attempt to entice the gobblers my way as well as maybe have the hen come for a look. None of them would have any of it and eventually the gobblers faded further into the thicket towards the hen...and soon, they all shut up altogether.
I was somewhat familiar with a route to get into where they were so I started to slowly work my way in the direction I had last heard them, calling every so often in hopes of eliciting a response so I had an idea of where they had gone. As usual, I was using my tried-and-true mouth call, but after penetrating the thicket to the point where I thought I should get a response, my calling had produced nothing.
Remembering the episode with my buddy and his box call from a few days before, I decided to pull out a slate/pot. Now, I rarely use a pot call (admittedly a mistake, it seems) and I am not "the best" with one...and my first series of yelps (and pretty much every one thereafter) sounded pretty pathetic...but both gobblers (and at least one hen) immediately responded from a hundred yards away and ninety degrees to my right.
The brush in this thicket is DENSE (understatement) and I was safely out of sight from the turkeys so I chose a quick set-up to see if they would come my way...and hit the slate again. ...Immediate gobbles and yelps back to me. This went on for a few minutes until I was certain they were not going to approach, so I decided to risk moving closer to them. I duck-walked towards them, trying to stay behind the densest vegetation and cut the distance in half.
Again I called and was relieved to get an instantaneous response from the group at what seemed like about seventy yards. I quickly set up...and peered in their direction, hoping to spot them through the tangled underbrush between us. Shortly, I spotted one of the gobblers strutting through a hole in the brush but well beyond shotgun range. Once again, I called...and again, gobbles and yelps came in response.
There was one semi-open lane angling off to my right and I caught movement there. A hen was walking towards me down the lane...then a second...and a third. They continued towards me and soon all three were milling about ten to fifteen yards away looking for the hen they had heard. I was hoping one or both of the gobblers would follow their path, but for whatever reason, they did not. The hens hung around for a minute or two and then faded back towards the gobblers.
Waiting a few minutes, I then called again...and the gobblers immediately gobbled back, still seventy yards away on the other side of some blown-down tree limbs and ground-level brush that I could not see through. In my mind, I felt I needed to move closer, even at the risk of blowing them out, so I eased forward a few steps at a time...and then hitting the slate softly to see if they would keep responding. With each call, they would gobble back, letting me know exactly where they were. I was somehow managing to close in without busting them...a minor miracle in itself.
I reached a point where the dense brush ended and so I sat down, peering towards where the gobblers had last responded, all the while thinking they were close enough that I should be able to see them...or hear them drumming. They were right there in front of me, sounding like they couldn't have been more than forty yards away, but I could not see them through the understory.
Knowing that I could not move further, I again hit the slate softly...and again they gobbled right in front of me, but for the life of me, I could not pick them out. This was it. They were either going to have to come back to me or we were at a stalemate. For the next several minutes, I would occasionally cluck on the slate laying on the ground next to me...and they would gobble back, so close that I couldn't believe I could not see them.
As it turned out, the ground between me and the gobblers was deceptive. There was a slight swale that I could not discern sitting down as I was. At some point, I caught movement ahead of me. In my mind, I could not make out a turkey there, but I focused on the spot...which I judged to be about forty yards out. Again, I saw movement there...and again I could not make out a turkey, but I was seeing SOMETHING moving in that spot.
Suddenly, to the left of where I was seeing the movement, two strutting gobblers appeared down a narrow lane in the brush. At that moment, I realized there was a slight depression there...and they had been there all the time, strutting back and forth...and only about thirty-five yards away, but ever-so-slowly working their way back towards me.
I very slowly eased my gun up and got it pointed at the lead gobbler, but they were too close together for a shot. With a two-bird limit here, I could legally have lined them up and killed them both...but I just won't do that. I waited.
They meandered excruciatingly slowly towards me, and then they separated...and I pulled the trigger. At the shot, there was a commotion and then nothing. I got to my feet and zig-zagged through the brush to get to where they had been. No gobbler laying there! I looked around the area...and nothing. I asked myself, "how could this be?"...and kept searching, expanding my search into the surrounding understory.
In all honesty, I had resigned myself to the idea that I had somehow missed the gobbler...and was pretty distraught over it...but I just kept looking. Then, quite a ways from where I had shot at him, I found my gobbler, dead as the proverbial door nail, laying on the ground. A sense of relief flooded over me in that moment as I sat down beside him and filled out my tag. I'm not quite sure what had happened...whether there had been some unseen limbs/brush that I just didn't see when I pulled the trigger or if I had somehow excitedly pulled the trigger when not quite on him properly. Regardless, it just reinforced the need to thoroughly search for any gobbler one might shoot at. The fact that I could have given up and walked away with a dead gobbler laying there makes me shudder.
As a prologue, the area I was hunting here was supposed to only hold the Rio Grande subspecies. When I got him back to my truck, I spread him out in the sunlight to get a closer look at that beautiful copper sheen that typifies Rios. Much to my surprise, this gobbler had none of that. He was a Merriam's...or at least a predominately Merriam's hybrid...and he was many miles from where any Merriam's turkeys are supposed to reside in New Mexico. Oh well...he was still a beauty...and provided me with a VERY memorable hunt!
(https://i.imgur.com/xCqz5GAl.jpg)
Your certainly on a roll captain
Thanks for posting the stories gobblenut. I enjoy reading them and congrats on a great season.
Congrats Jim on another great hunt and write up.
Always fun to read your stories Jim!
Good read Jim and congrats on the success!
Tuesday, May 8th
Plans had been made for our group (four of us) to head to a different area of the state to hunt for the next three days, but two days before our departure, a forest fire broke out right where we planned to go, so we altered the plan to head to our cabin in another mountain range. This area gets hammered by hunters and, because of that, we rarely hunt it anymore...but the circumstances as they were made us decide to give it a go.
I decided to go up early to hunt a particular spot that I can usually find a gobbler or two. This is a high-elevation spot (9,000+ feet) and, as luck would have it, it snowed that night. When I arrived at the location, there was a layer of the white stuff on the ground and the temps were in the twenties. At first light, I started working my way into the area, listening for gobbles. None were to come.
The entire forest has been in a state of drought for a while, and I optimistically thought that this area...even though it has no source of surface water...would still hold some birds. There were none to be found. I made a five-mile circuit through several canyons and along ridges that, in the past, I had always found a few birds...and found no evidence, even with the snow on the ground, that there were any around. I never raised a peep from a turkey, nor saw a single track in the snow.
Disappointed, I packed up and headed for the cabin to meet up with my buddies later in the day. Everybody showed up by late that afternoon...and plans were made for the next morning. We knew there were gobblers around...the trick here is to find the ones that have not been hammered so badly that they will play the game the way we want. ...We will see if we can find one of those.
Wednesday, May 7th
The four of us decide to hunt in pairs, and two hours before first light, we are up and preparing to head towards our chosen spots. I had decided our pair would head to another high location, but the wind was unexpectedly blowing (the weather forecast was for a calm morning). Hunting the high ridges here when the wind is howling is an exercise in futility, so at the last minute, we decided to head for a lower-elevation location that traditionally held a few gobblers...and the wind would be less of a factor. I knew it was a crapshoot as to whether we could find a cooperative bird here, but the choice was made.
We arrived right at "gobble-thirty" and as we prepared to leave the truck, I immediately heard a gobble just on the edge of earshot a mile away. We headed that way. It took a while for us to cover the distance, but eventually we closed in on him. He was roosted along the edge of an open canyon-bottom. I would have liked to have gotten closer to him, but with daylight quickly coming on, we decided to not risk it and set up two hundred yards from him.
Fly-down was fast approaching and we decided to test the waters with some soft tree calls. He answered immediately...we waited. He gobbled several more times...and then I saw him fly down into the open bottom, still two hundred yards away. I could not see them, but my buddy also saw two more turkeys, most likely hens, fly down with him.
We stepped up our calling with hopes he would start moving our way. Long story short...he answered our initial calls...and then started moving away, headed up a ridge. We eventually followed along behind... but is often the case with late-season birds here, he shut down and disappeared.
We worked our way through the area hoping to fire him up...or hear another gobbler in the distance... but neither was to be. Mid-morning, and with the wind steadily increasing, we headed back to the truck with intentions of heading back towards the cabin for breakfast (we are all getting to that age where staying in the woods and hitting it hard just isn't all that important anymore... ;D
As it were, our other pair had also gotten into gobblers, and with one of them only a few yards from getting turned into turkey nuggets for that evening's dinner...but as they say, close does not count. When all was said and done, no turkeys were hanging on the cabin porch. However, a number of gobblers had been heard in the general vicinity of the cabin...and plans were again made to pursue them. I had a close encounter with a gobbler right at last light that evening...and roosted him in a spot that I felt I had a decent chance of calling him in the next morning. My buddies also had put gobblers to bed...and all of us were optimistic about the next morning's possibilities.
Thursday, May 8th
An hour before first light, I am climbing the steep ridge to where the gobbler I had encountered the evening before was roosted. Thirty minutes later, I am standing on the crest of the ridge waiting for his first gobble. I knew approximately where he was...but not exactly...and I was hoping I was close enough to him. As it turned out, his first gobbler confirmed he was right down the back side of the ridge about a hundred yards away. I could not see him...and vice-versa. I figured I was in the game where I was at...and took a position against a dead pine stump.
I waited, hoping to NOT hear hens with him as the skies lightened. In the distance, I could hear other gobblers, as well, but mostly on private ground and inaccessible. Also, in the distance, but not with the gobbler I was on, I started hearing occasional hen tree-talk. I was somewhat confident as I made my first tree calls to the gobbler. He answered immediately. I waited.
At fly-down time, I gave him the hen-fly-down imitation...and then a series of "I'm on the ground now so come on over here" yelps. He responded...seemingly enthusiastically...and shortly thereafter, I heard him fly down. I got the gun up and ready.
Expecting to either see him coming over the roll in the ridge...or hear a close-range gobble that indicated he was on his way...I was surprised when the next gobble came from to my right and just out of sight. I peered intently, thinking he would come into sight at any second...but when he gobbled again, he was further to the right and moving away down the ridge towards the private ground...and towards where the other distant gobbles and hen yelps were coming from. My hopes for a quick victory sank with his fading gobbles.
Not wanting him to get out of earshot without giving it my best effort, I picked up the calling pace. I hit him with some louder cutts and yelps and he gobbled back, now at least a hundred yards onto the private ground below me. The next gobble was closer! He was coming back my way!
As it turned out, he retraced his steps, staying just out of sight below the roll in the ridge...making me think to myself, "If only you had just set up a little bit closer to him on the roost...". He stayed where I couldn't see him and eventually set up shop on the slope below me where it fell off on the back side of the ridge.
We were at a stalemate for a while. I would call...he would gobble, not getting closer or further away. Then he quit gobbling...and I sat waiting...and waiting. Patience kills gobblers, they say...and I tried my best to follow that mantra. I waited silently, but he did not come...and all gobbling had long since ceased.
Might he have eventually arrived? I can't say for sure...but his lack of arriving outlasted my patience level...and I decided to try to move closer so I could see over the edge of the slope where he had last been. To summarize...it was a mistake. As I eased over the edge, he was waiting...alert to this "false-hen" that did not show herself by coming to him...and at fifty yards, he flushed and flew off into the nether-lands below me on the private ground.
I was frustrated at the gobbler...and at myself...and although I continued to try to raise a response from another gobbler that might be around, I could not. I "walked and talked" for a while along the ridge and then back towards my truck...but got nothing to show for my efforts.
Breakfast was again calling me back to the cabin with more intensity than my desire to stick with trying to find another gobbler to hunt...so I loaded up and headed back, hoping that my hunting partners may have had more success on their birds. As it turned out, they did not.
I/We had failed miserably. After three days, nary a single gobbler had been converted to turkey nuggets! Oh well! This was to be my last effort in NM to fill my second (and last) tag here.
Next week, it's on to Montana...and a new turkey-hunting adventure for a week there. Let's just hope the gobblers are more cooperative up north! ;D :D
Its was a good hunt Jim, you engaged with a Tom each time out, that's a good hunt with me!! Safe travels to the Big Sky state. Wish you and your hunting partners a great safe and successful hunt up there.
Catching a flight to Montana tomorrow (Wednesday) morning for a week on our (probable) last hunt of the year. As usual, will be out of touch during that time, but hopefully will have some glowing reports about the turkey hunting up that way. :)
...And again, best of luck to all who are still out there after 'em while I am away. :icon_thumright: :icon_thumright:
(https://uploads.tapatalk-cdn.com/20250519/e5d6476256bd7217060c426c25ef98ed.jpg)
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Quote from: lacire on May 19, 2025, 02:17:00 AM(https://uploads.tapatalk-cdn.com/20250519/e5d6476256bd7217060c426c25ef98ed.jpg)
:TooFunny: ;D That ain't me. I don't wear my cap backwards...and I can't get down on my knees and crawl like that anymore. Other than that...pretty close... ;D
Wednesday, May 14th
Survived the flight(s) to Montana...but the "beehives" at the airports involved once again reminded me that there are just too many people around for my tastes. Regardless, we arrived in one piece at Billings, got the rental, and headed out...arriving at our destination mid-afternoon. The motel we had booked left a little to be desired...but it was the closest accommodations to where we planned to hunt, and after getting settled in we stopped by the local Forest Service office to pick up the forest travel map (a necessity when hunting national forests anywhere) and headed out to take a look around.
Turkeys seemed to be scarce, although we had been told by some locals that "they are everywhere". Apparently, "everywhere" was not where we chose to explore as we saw and heard nada...until right before dark when we fortuitously located several gobblers along a stretch of road in an area that, quite frankly, I was surprised there were turkeys in. Nevertheless, we had found some birds to pursue and headed back to the motel somewhat optimistic about our chances for the next morning.
Thursday, May 15th
The gobblers we had heard were all just on the edge of hearing in a series of canyons and ridges which tapered off into the main canyon the road ran along. These were perpendicular to the road and we weren't certain exactly where they were because of the distance, but we had heard four or five along about a two-mile stretch of the road. The evening before, it sounded like one area held at least three gobblers so we made plans to hunt those first.
After a thirty-minute drive from the motel, we arrived well before daylight and started the hike into the area, figuring we could get close enough to where we thought the gobblers were to be able to hear them once they lit up. Daylight gradually came on as we waited to hear the first gobbles. It was well past the time we expected to hear them when we finally heard a distant gobble...much further away than expected and over a ridge from our location. Quickly we headed in that direction hoping to get there while the gobbler was still sounding off.
We climbed the ridge as quickly as we could and, although the gobbler occasionally let us know where he was, it was past fly-down when we finally made it up to where he was and he had apparently flown down and gone quiet. We moved slowly along, calling sporadically and softly hoping for a response, but could not get him to sound off.
At one point, I thought I heard a gobble from the back side of the ridge we were ascending, although we felt the gobbler we had heard was somewhere below us in the opposite direction. As such, I suggested we split up, me going to the "maybe" gobble I had heard and my buddy continuing into the area we thought the last gobbles had come from. My decision proved to be a mistake as I had no sooner walked back over the ridge when my friend spotted four gobblers in an open area in the direction he was going.
I worked the back side of the ridge and the canyon below for the next hour, eventually spotting a couple of hens but hearing no gobbling in the area. I worked my way back down towards the truck, now a good mile and a half away, calling as I went along. As I rounded the point of the ridge where it tapered off into the bottom, my next call drew an immediate response gobble from three hundred yards high up on the next ridge in front of me. I quickly moved into towards the gobbler to cut the distance. Calling again, he immediately responded. I was in business...or so I thought.
I ran out of cover with the gobbler still high above me and across a wide-open canyon bottom, but his enthusiastic responses to my calls made me think he might drop down and come to me so I set up. I had no sooner gotten settled in when, all of a sudden, from beyond the ridge the gobbler was on I heard a shotgun blast.
"All right", I thought to myself, "Dick has scored!" I also thought that the shot was close enough to the gobbler I was hearing that he might have shot that bird...but within another minute or so, I heard the bird I was calling gobble again....and shortly, he gobbled again. I was confused by this, but figured the jig was up as far as me working the bird I was hearing (another mistake, I discovered) so I just started walking towards the area I had heard the shot, thinking I would find Dick and we would relive the hunt and savor the moment.
As it turned out, Dick had gotten into an entirely different group of turkeys that had multiple mature gobblers, as well as several hens and jakes. They had all come into about 25 yards, but were so bunched up that he could not shoot one of the gobblers. They started to depart and one of the gobblers cleared the others, offering Dick a hasty shot opportunity...which he took, but missed (Note: Dick has a history of not getting his head down on the stock and regularly shooting over gobblers...which, after inspection, he concluded he had done once again).
I eventually headed back to the truck at mid-morning as the predicted high winds began to kick in, finally running into Dick along the way and hearing the story of his misfortune. The rest of the day, we drove around this vast area of public land looking for more turkeys and evaluating various areas for future hunts in the coming days. We never found birds or much evidence of them. In addition, the winds increased all day, never ceasing, and carried on through-out the night and on into the next day. ...Not a good sign of things to come.
:icon_thumright:
I'm following... ;D
Friday, May 16th
The winds continued to blow all through the night and were howling when we arose at 3:15 Friday morning. It seemed futile, but we went through the motions of heading to the same location we had hunted. Hearing nothing, we spent the rest of the morning exploring the forest, again looking for turkeys in locations we had not covered...and again, not seeing, hearing, or even seeing signs of turkeys everywhere we went.
Late in the day the winds began to subside, becoming calm at sundown, and we decided to try to roost birds in an area that had been recommended by a local fellow that told us he had heard gobbling near his home a couple of days before. We covered that area and several more miles of good-looking country in that vicinity without raising a gobble. The decision was made for us that we would again return to the area we knew held gobblers...and hope that the weather and conditions were favorable for the next morning's hunt.
Saturday, May 17th
We had made plans to split up this morning with me heading into a part of the area we had heard a couple of gobblers the first evening and Dick heading back to the area he had shot at the gobbler the first morning. I let Dick out at his location well before daylight and then headed to the other area which was a couple of miles down the road. It was still pitch-dark when I parked the truck, but as I opened the door, I immediately heard gobbling coming from a high ridge well over a mile to the west.
As I hurriedly gathered my gear, I could tell there were multiple gobblers on the ridge and they were really whoopin' it up...gobbling almost constantly as I headed across towards them in the dark. Walking as fast as I could go as the skies began to lighten, it soon became apparent that I was not going to get to them before it was full daylight so I skirted the ridge to keep out of sight and made an arc towards a steep incline that I thought I could climb while not exposing myself.
The ridge was higher and the approach much steeper than this old dude would have liked, but I was determined to get to the top...and after what seemed like an hour (probably less than thirty minutes), I eased to the top and carefully looked over the flat top towards where I thought the gobblers had roosted. I had not heard them in a while, suspecting they were on the ground and had hushed up, but shortly after I got up to the top, they obligingly gobbled on the back side of the ridge, sounding like they were about 100 yards out.
I eased up near the first suitable pine tree, stood behind it, and sent them a soft series of inquiring clucks and yelps to see what the reaction would be. They immediately gobbled back...and I moved to the front of the pine and set up. I called again...and received another immediate response, perhaps closer but still out of sight over the lip of the ridge about eighty yards away. I got the gun up and ready...and as I did, my glasses fogged up! Quickly, I took them off, grabbed the bottom of my shirt, cleaned them, and put them back on.
About the time I had them back on, I looked up just in time to see a full, white-outlined fan coming into sight over the lip of the ridge and onto the flat in front of me. Staying in full strut, the gobbler angled back and forth and moved towards me, momentarily raising his head each time he changed direction...looking for the hen he had heard. Each directional change brought him a few yards closer...seventy yards, then sixty...then fifty. Never breaking strut, he drew nearer and nearer, passing behind just enough pines that I could adjust to his movements as he sauntered back and forth...and kept coming closer.
Finally, I knew he was in range and I focused on lining up the beads of my 12 gauge on his head. When he raised it for his last look around for the hen, I ended it. He went down instantly without a single flop and never moved. I was honestly shocked that the entire affair had lasted no more than ten minutes from when I reached the top of the ridge until it was over. He was a fine Montana gobbler with the classic, white-tipped tail feathers that this region is known for and as I gathered him up. the sun was just starting to peak over the ridge top from the eastern horizon. I found a spot in the sun and sat down, smoothed and admired his feathers, and soaked it all in one more time. It is worth repeating...it never gets old...
(https://i.imgur.com/hZASmytm.jpg)
Sunday, May 18th
Dick had failed to get another chance to shoot over a gobbler's head on Saturday, so our focus was now on getting him a gobbler. I had obtained a second tag on the off chance I might get another chance myself, although I figured it was unlikely in that the weather was supposed to deteriorate again with rain moving into the area beginning Sunday afternoon and hanging around for at least another day.
We had again explored new areas on Saturday afternoon hoping to find more turkeys to hunt, but failed in our efforts, so once again we headed for the same area we had been hunting well before daylight on Sunday morning. Together, we headed into the area I had tagged my bird since I knew there were other gobblers there. It was relatively calm at daylight, although overcast and hinting of the rain to come. We were a mile into the area listening for gobbles as the skies began to lighten.
Soon we heard a gobbler sound off on a high ridge another half mile in and we headed that way. We climbed the ridge as quickly as we could but once again, by the time we got to where the gobbler had been, he had apparently flown down and was silent. We eased into the area, me going through my soft-calling cluck and yelp routine and soon a hen responded ahead of us. I called back and she responded much closer, so Dick set up twenty yards in front of me.
Soon we could see the hen coming along the ridge towards us, yelping as she came and with me responding accordingly. She stopped twenty yards from Dick and we carried on a lively conversation for a minute or two as she searched for the source of my calling. Suddenly, in the background, several more turkeys were approaching, and shortly, they were all standing thirty yards from Dick looking for this new hen. Two of these birds were definitely male turkeys, but Dick could not make out a beard on either of them, although he felt certain one of them was a mature bird. As such, he held fire and as quickly as they had come, they turned and scurried back towards where they had come from. It was an exciting encounter, but ended with no shot taken.
While this was going on, however, another gobbler had started sounding off across from us on another ridge. Getting there required dropping into the deep canyon between us and then up that ridge...no easy task for a couple of "seventy-somethings", but we begrudgingly sucked it up and headed off that way. Again, it took a while for us to work our way over to where the gobbler had been, and by the time we got to the top of the ridge, he had either moved out of earshot or had gone quiet.
We worked down the ridge slowly, calling as we went. The ridge was a series of beautiful benches at the end of which each dropped off steeply to the next level a hundred or more yards below. We had reached the end of one bench to the edge where it dropped off and I called. Immediately, a gobbler answered below us, sounding about two hundred yards away on the next bench. In addition, multiple gobbles came from the ridge across the canyon we had just traversed! ...Arghh!
I wanted to see if any of these gobblers would start towards us, so over the next several minutes, I would call, hoping one or more of them would indicate they were coming. The distant-ridge birds immediately went quiet, obviously just giving us courtesy gobbles, but the gobbler below us would answer but didn't show signs of heading our way. Soon, however, he shut up as well. I was not at all confident he was going to come up to us, but I nevertheless told Dick to set up at a nearby pine tree while I continued to call just back from the edge of the drop-off and where I could duck out of sight quickly if the gobbler showed himself.
Over the next few minutes, I would call with no response...and thinking the gobbler was biding his time on the bench below us. It was a while later when, suddenly, I began to hear sounds coming from down the slope...sounds reminiscent of a gobbler drumming! I listened intently and the sounds gradually intensified...and I was certain there was a gobbler heading our way. A minute later, I saw the white fan of a strutting gobbler heading up towards us seventy yards away.
I ducked down out of sight and glance back towards Dick, hoping he was aware that the gobbler was about to strut up onto the flat we were on. I could hear the gobbler getting closer and closer, the drumming increasing in intensity as he neared. I thought to myself,..."this is about to be over", thinking that Dick would let the gobbler come up onto the flat for the easy shot. Dick, however, had other plans...and took the shot when the gobbler had barely gotten into range.
The shot startled me as I was not expecting it, and jumping up, I saw the gobbler sail off into the canyon below us...obviously with nary a feather being touched. Once again, Dick had failed to concentrate on getting his head down on the stock and had shot right over the bird!
I was not the proverbial "happy camper" at the moment and as Dick came over to look for any signs of the gobbler, I scolded him about taking the shot so quickly rather than letting the obviously completely-duped gobbler walk right on up to us before shooting at him. Dick was obviously distraught by the miss and soon my annoyance turned to empathy and consolation as it became apparent that he suffers from the turkey-equivalent of buck fever in the moment of truth.
That was the last opportunity we had as the predicted rain came in with a vengeance that afternoon, becoming a frog-strangler that evening and continuing all the next day, making the roads all but impassible and shutting the turkeys down through the remainder of our hunting days for the trip.
Monday was a complete loss as we stayed mostly at the motel, and although the rain had stopped by Tuesday morning and we made a last-ditch attempt at finding a cooperative gobbler, they must have still been trying to dry out from the storms and were having none of our attempts to get them to have a conversation with us.
After all was said and done, both of us agreed that it had been a good trip as we made the drive back to the airport Wednesday morning, although lousy weather always seems to follow us whenever we take trips like this. We will probably plan another adventure to a new destination next spring and hope that our string of bad-weather luck is broken. In addition, I plan on encouraging Dick to spend a bit more time practicing his shooting...and maybe start taking some sort of nerve-calming medication for when any future gobbler comes a-callin'. ;D :D
I remember a hunt in the no so distant past where Dick was the one yucking it up and you were the one with the "I missed" sad face....hmmm imagine that ;D Can you say Black Hills ?
Congrats on a fine-looking Big Sky Tom!! Thank you for a great write up Jim!
Quote from: eggshell on May 24, 2025, 05:58:43 PMI remember a hunt in the no so distant past where Dick was the one yucking it up and you were the one with the "I missed" sad face....hmmm imagine that ;D Can you say Black Hills ?
:D You just had to remind me of that trip, didn't you, Dana?! How soon we forget when the shoe is on the other foot! But you are right...maybe I am the one that should have been practicing my shooting more and taking the medication on that trip! ;D
Good job for your tom and for guiding your buddy! Poor Dick, haha, I have been like him a few times me too haha
All in good fun JIm, I confess your not the only one with a miss that trip, I am guilty too. Those Black Hills gobblers just had our number, all 5 of them. Man that was a disappointing trip. I'll probably hunt the Hills again sometime, since my youngest lives a short distance away in mid South Dakota, but I won't make any big plans for a special trip just to hunt.
Congrats to you Jim! I just lived through your delight! Buddy missed cuz he got peer buck fever! His words not mine
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