GobbleNut Hunt Log 2025

[GobbleNut]

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.   

[lacire]

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[GobbleNut]

    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... 

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.

[GobbleNut]

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.

 

[lacire]

 

[YoungGobbler]

I'm following... 

[GobbleNut]

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.   

[GobbleNut]

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...

[GobbleNut]

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'.      

[eggshell]

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    Can you say Black Hills ?

[JeffC]

Congrats on a fine-looking Big Sky Tom!! Thank you for a great write up Jim!

[GobbleNut]

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    Can you say Black Hills ?

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! 

[YoungGobbler]

Good job for your tom and for guiding your buddy! Poor Dick, haha, I have been like him a few times me too haha

[eggshell]

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.

[avidnwoutdoorsman]

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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