GobbleNut's 2023 Season Hunt Log

[GobbleNut]

Please tell me this ends with you shooting something bigger than that fightin' rooster you shot earlier

  ....Uhhhh,...No, it does not...

May 7 (Sunday):  Feeling like we needed to give the birds from the previous day another chance, we head back there before daylight.  As expected from the forecast, it is drizzling again.  As we start up the canyon, the first gobble rings out somewhere on the ridge above us to the left, much further down the canyon than the previous day's birds.  I tell my two companions that I am going to try to get to that bird while he is on the roost, thinking that getting in close on him might be the ticket.

I head that way (and they head on up the draw), getting first soaked to my knees crossing a small creek that is swollen due to the rains.  I completed the shower by then having to wade through chest-high brush as I started to ascend the mountain above me.  I was hoping to get up to the gobbler, but soon came to the property line where the parcel I was on reached a private section we could not hunt (sound familiar in the GobbleNut Tales?).  I was still quite some distance from the gobbler, so I stopped short on an old logging cut to listen.

Soon, gobblers were sounding off down the main canyon a half-mile away, again on off-limits ground, as well as directly across the main canyon from me (same situation).  However, soon I heard gobbles closer to me,...and on huntable ground.  There were multiple gobblers in this group and I waited in place to see what they might do.  At flydown, it was apparent they had flown down into the bottom directly below me,...and right where we had parked the rental vehicle.  I figured my best approach was to drop back off the ridge and try to get as close as possible.

During my descent, they ceased gobbling and I wasn't certain where they had gone.  Nonetheless, I eased into the bottom, watching carefully ahead of me, and calling sparingly hoping to get a response.  As I eased over a small knob, suddenly there they were, fifty yards ahead in a small cluster of pines. Busted!...and too late.  They duck-walked over a rise and were gone.  ...If only they had just once let me know they were still in the area...

I hung out in that location, hoping these gobblers would settle down and eventually come back into the bottom, but they did not, although they obliged my calling with a few courtesy gobbles from the ridge high above me a bit later in the morning.  I am not one to sit in the rain trying to kill turkeys, so after a while, I headed back towards the SUV, which turned out to be less than 100 yards from where the birds had been loafing in the trees when we met. 

My companions had similar luck up the canyon,...hearing and interacting with a couple of other gobblers that also wanted to have nothing to do with hen-turkey-calling from hens they could not see.  They also ran into the same group of hunters from the previous day, again confirming that these birds were getting a full dose of artificial turkey calling for no telling how long prior to us getting there.

All of us being thoroughly discouraged, as well as soaking wet from head to toe, we decided to head back to our rental cabin and regroup.  The rains continued for the rest of the day, and the cabin was a welcome respite from the downpour, so we just hung out there without making another effort.

[GobbleNut]

May 8th (Monday):  Waking up to continuing rainfall, we nevertheless decide to return to the location where we had the encounters with the gobblers on the first morning of the hunt, and arrive there at first light.  Two of us head down a sloppy two-track towards the area, and before long hear the first gobbles down toward the private ground they had been on four days earlier when the interloping vehicle had scared them off.

Soon, we can hear several gobblers, with the closest being roosted about 150 yards into the private.  We set up on him, knowing full well that he was likely to fly away from us down into some turkey-attracting ag fields another 200 yards beyond his roost,....which is exactly what he did despite our admittedly-self-described seductive calling at flydown time.

Multiple birds were on a ridge to our right and high above us, and after the close gobbler flew down into the ag fields, we decided to ascend the ridge to try to reach them.  That ascent turned out to be a nightmare as the slope to them was covered with slash from apparently-recent timber-company cutting to thin the slope.  We struggled on, eventually coming once again to a property boundary where we could proceed no further.  Not surprisingly and true to form, the gobblers were a couple of hundred yards beyond that boundary.

Again, we repeated the process of trying to call them to us, but once again, they would not oblige and headed towards greener ag-pastures away from us.  We covered the area over the next few hours prospecting for willing birds, getting regular courtesy gobbles from the fields down in the private stuff, but to no avail. 

Later, we ran into a local hunter who had hunted this area for fifty years,...and he told us he had never seen the turkeys so quiet and non-responsive to calling.  Just our luck deciding to hunt the northwest during a week-long monsoon chasing gobblers that were totally shut down.  To say that we were totally whipped and discouraged would be the understatement of the turkey-hunting century. 

Mid afternoon, we again headed back to our cabin, all of us thinking we were about to return home skunked in a place that was supposed to be covered up with gobblers. (Note: actually, the place WAS covered up with gobblers, as we regularly saw dozens of turkeys on the private properties as we drove around looking for birds on the public stuff). 

We bagged it for the day.  However, the weather was supposedly going to break in the morning, giving us the prospect and hope that at least we would not get soaked like we had the previous four days straight. Still, that looming thought of failure permeated the atmosphere.  We only had a day left to hunt as our flights back to NM were coming up on Wednesday morning.  It was now or never!

[GobbleNut]

May 9th (Tuesday): aka "Do or die day".  Our collective discouragement makes me think my companions might sleep-in this morning, but to my surprise, both of them get up when the alarm sounds.  Studying OnX the night before, I had identified one location that we had not hunted that looked like it might be a "sleeper".  I told the guys,..."This is where we are going this morning", not knowing if there was a gobbler in the country or not. An hour before the first hint of daylight, we head there.  In addition, the skies were clear for the first time in a week!  At the very least, we would not get soaked for our efforts!

We reach the public ground right at gobble-thirty, and getting out of the SUV, we are delightfully surprised to hear at least three gobblers,...all roosted on public!...a first for the entire trip!  Two of these gobblers are on opposite, low ridges directly across from each other,...and pretty close to the road and where we had parked.  One was much further away up on a low ridge and farther into the public ground.  In my mind, I am thinking,..."That distant bird is the one we should focus on", so we start up that way. Our approach takes us right by the area we think one of the closer gobblers is roosted, but to get to the far bird we have no choice but to more-or-less walk right under him,...so we do just that.

It is still fairly dark,...but not dark enough that I think the gobbler cannot see us,...so we scurry along quickly trying to get past this first gobbler with the hope that he somehow won't notice us.  We reach a brush-line beyond where we think he is,...and he suddenly gobbles from right where we have walked in.  We step into the brush just off the logging cut we are walking, whispering to each other as to what we should do.  I am convinced that our chances with this close bird are, in essence, non-existent, but I tell one of my cohorts,..."Give him some soft yelps on your box",...which he does.  I add in some soft stuff myself a minute later, and then he adds a few tree yelps with a pot.  The gobbler responds!

The logging cut is open towards where the gobbler is roosted, and I tell my buddies,..."If he comes, he is probably gonna walk right down this cut".  At that moment, I turn my head back to look down the cut,...and there is a gobbler standing in the cut sixty yards away!  Didn't hear him fly down or make a peep, but there he is!

We are all three standing, with me being on the "gobbler side", and also the most exposed, although we are kind-of behind a scraggly, small pine tree just off the cut.  I'm standing there thinking,..."There is no way in hell this gobbler is not going to see me standing here",...but to our amazement, he just starts walking up the cut towards us! 

He keeps walking, but reaches a point right where I am thinking,..."I can kill him if I can get my gun up", so I start easing my gun up, trying to stay as much as I can behind the screen of pine limbs of the tree.  He catches the movement, and turns and starts walking slowly up the slope on the far side of the logging cut, but staying just in range.  In the meantime, one of my buddies is going,..."shoot him, Jim, shoot him!"  as I am trying to find an opening through the pine limbs to get a shot.

It is a short-lived clown show as I am fumbling with the gun, poking it through the pine, and trying to get on him before he gets out of range,...and just in the nick of time, he walks into the last available opening, I push the pine limbs out of the way, get the gun on him, and pull the trigger.  He goes down in a heap, and instantly I am running ("running" being a relative term) down the cut trying to get on him,...just in case.  No need,...he is down for the count!

On the last day of our hunt, I have received a "gift gobbler" from whomever controls such matters.  He is no giant by any means,...short-bearded and light in weight, and with somewhat sharp, but short spurs as is typical for the Merriam's subspecies (he looks like a full-blooded Merriam's gobbler).  Regardless, I am beyond "tickled" to have taken him. (And no, Happy, he ain't gonna surpass that 49 point giant I killed a couple of weeks ago in New Mexico!)   

Final footnote on the hunt:  My buddies hunted a few more hours that day, but eventually said "we give" and bagged it.  The summary is that three of us "old dudes" hunted six full days, mostly in the rain, and came away with one "miracle gobbler" to show for it.  Sometimes you just have to play the cards that you are dealt and make the best of it.  I think we ended up with a pair of deuces...   

[Happy]

Good job Jim, just giving you good natured grief about your gobbler. I know how it goes with mountain birds. They typically don't score too high but you gotta earn them. Good job and way to stay persistent

[JeffC]

Great read Jim, you give this old man the push I need to keep trying, looking forward to the pictures. Congrats on another Tom. Well earned!

[crow]

Nice write up Jim and congrats on your gobbler

[Rapscallion Vermilion]

Very entertaining read Jim.  You sure do seem to get more than your fair share of bad luck when chasing out of state gobblers.

[eggshell]

good stories Jim, As I have to convince myself sometiimes....there's no bad turkey hunts. Well I guess I had at least one bad turkey hunt, and I wouldn't wish that on anyone

[GobbleNut]

Sunday, April 14:  Decided to sneak away for the last couple of days of the NM season (should have left "well enough" alone).  Left the house at 3:15 a.m. for the two-hour drive, arriving at my old reliable "honey hole" fifteen minutes before gobbling time,...and without seeing any signs of other hunters in the area, not that I would have expected any this late in the season here.

The looming question is whether I will hear birds on the public ground here, while feeling quite certain there would be gobblers within earshot across the fence on the private property.  Standing outside the truck and listening as the sky started to brighten, I first hear a gobble that "may" be close to the property line, so I gather my gear and start that way.  Moving along hastily in that direction, I suddenly hear a gobble from a familiar ridge across a canyon on public! 

Reversing course, I head that way, knowing exactly where this gobbler is roosted and also exactly how to get into position on the ridge above him, as I have killed gobblers from this same location the last two seasons.  I move along as quickly as I can to try to get to him while he is still on the roost, looping around, climbing, and following along the ridgeline.  He is very obliging in continuing to gobble and let me know where he is, and soon I have moved into position and set up roughly 100 yards directly above him right before flydown time.

I tuck into a small cedar tree, get prepared, and then send him a short series of quiet yelps.  He responds...I wait.  It is clearly light enough for him to come out of the tree, so I imitate a flydown and then send him another short series of "ground yelps".  Again he responds, and almost immediately I see him sail out of a tree to the right down the slope below me, landing out of sight.  I give him another quick series of yelps,...and wait.

Sooner than expected, I see a white head angling up the slope towards me and in a path that is going to bring him around slightly to my right but well within range.  I adjust my position slightly and get the gun up.  This is going to be short and sweet,...and I am already patting myself on the back on how well this has worked out.  ...Overconfidence can come back to bite a guy right where it hurts...

The gobbler clears a downed pine tree twenty five yards away.  It's a gimmee shot and I quickly find his head in line with the beads on the vent rib and slap the trigger like I have done dozens of times before.  At that precise moment, I feel the trigger hesitate longer than it should have (hunting in the rain for a week without taking the proper precautions to address the potential issues with trigger function has apparently come back to haunt me), and before the sound of the shot rebounds in my ears, I know I have pulled off of the bird.  I cringe as I see the shot pattern hit well below the gobbler in the dirt! 

I have been given another gift gobbler,...but I have blown it!  He immediately turns and takes flight, and I watch him sail down the slope out of sight.  To put it mildly, I am dumbfounded by what I have just done.  In my haste to get it done, I have hurried the shot when there was no need,...slapped the trigger overconfidently when I should have just carefully squeezed off the round.  Summarily,...I have CHOKED!

Nonetheless, I head down the slope to where I have last seen the gobbler and look and listen for a bit,...just in case.  I then go back up to where I had taken the shot and look diligently for feathers,...or any indication that I might have connected.  There is nothing to be found.  Again I go down the slope, back and forth looking, but knowing in my heart that he is gone.  If any of you have been here, you know the devastating feeling of emptiness that accompanies these moments. 

I eventually move on, and end up working several more gobblers during the day that are safely staying on the private property and have no intention of leaving it.  Late in the day, thunderstorms set in and the two-track that leads into this area can turn into a truck-sinking bog with enough rainfall, so I decide to not take the chance.  I have an extended debate with myself about heading to another spot for the final morning of the season, but my heart is just not in it. 

There was a time when I would not have given up and hunted that last morning to try to make amends, but I have reached the age where the tenacity to do so has faded.  I have had another blessed turkey season, have hunted as much as I want anymore, and have stayed healthy throughout.  I make the decision to bag it and head for the house, knowing full well that ending the season with (another) missed gobbler will dwell in my mind for a while,...but so be it.  In time, the miss will fade from memory,...as it always has in the past.   

[Tom007]

Great stories Jim. Congrats!

[zelmo1]

Great season JIM, and you have entertained us as usual brother. Thank you, Z

[JeffC]

Congratulations on another great season Jim and condolences on the miss. You at least got in the game and had successes and got out of state for a hunt and enjoyed another season! Just gives him time to get bigger for next season.

[GobbleNut]

A final 2023 GobbleNut Log thank you to all of you that have taken the time to read through my ramblings, and for all of the well-wishes.  I, too, hope that each of you has had (and perhaps are still having) a blessed season and have been able to be successful in your endeavors and have stayed safe and healthy in the process.   
Jim

[Happy]

Way to cap it off with a bang Gnut. Sucks that you missed, but at least you had some excitement for rhe end of the year

[crow]

Good write up and well executed plan. I'm glad you got to work a gobbler at the end.
Misses stink an are hard to live with, wether it's the dirt or a log