GobbleNut Hunt Log 2024

[crow]

Good write up Cap, have a good hunt for part 3.

After telling that guy you are going to cross at your intended spot, tell him you'll stay on the other side and he can have the whole side he's on. Fly the Jolly Rodgers flag and rock on.


does this ''John'' boat have fresh paint where the old GOAT decal was

[GobbleNut]

Wednesday, April 17th:  Arrive at hunt location in NM mountains mid-afternoon with another hunting buddy. We go opposite directions with intentions to assess the possibilities, check for signs of turkey presence, and with a bit of luck maybe find a responsive gobbler. No luck for either of us.

Anticipating hearing gobbling at dark, we are somewhat disappointed when nothing is heard.  This area is my "honey hole" and I am certain there are gobblers around that are just being silent for some reason.  I tell my buddy,..."We WILL hear gobbling in the morning"...although I know it is likely to be on private ground that will require some "doing" to pull a gobbler over the line to our public side.

Tonight, we sleep in our trucks because after the next morning's hunt, we are off to another hunt in another location.  Not overly confident about the morning prospects, we turn in. 

[GobbleNut]

Thursday, April 18th:  An hour before sunrise, we are up and standing listening for gobbling that I have assured my buddy will come.  Although a bit later than anticipated, we are eventually rewarded with a gobble from across on the private ground...but close enough to the line that I think we might have a chance.  Nothing is heard from the public side...which surprises me a bit...so we head down a ridge towards where the single gobble had come from.

This is big, "pine forest" type habitat with high ridges with deep canyons between. Historically, gobblers have roosted across one such canyon, high along a ridge a good ways into the private stuff. We work our way down a secondary ridge towards the property boundary to a point where we should be able to pin-point any gobbles we hear.  With luck, a bird will be close enough to the boundary we might have a chance.

As the skies lighten, I am a bit surprised at the lack of gobbling, although we do hear one distant bird far into the private side. I am sure the first gobbler we heard is much closer, but he is quiet for some reason.  Regardless, at "fly-down time", I try to encourage him to reveal his location with some soft tree calls. Nothing. Over the next five minutes, I sporadically give him my best "soft stuff"...but no response.

I tell my buddy to pull out his trusty box call and try a few yelps, knowing his call is quite a bit more raspy sounding and that he tends to yelp very slowly...like a jake. He does just that,...and a clear gobble rings out across the canyon from the ridge across from where we sit! 

Now knowing the gobbler can hear us, in my mind I am feeling certain he has interpreted our calling as being a hen that has a jake nearby. Thinking that, I step up my calling, going into "ground yelping" and telling my buddy to throw in some of his jake yelps every so often.

The gobbler seems to have gotten the message that there is a hen across the canyon from him that has had an interloper jake show up...and he immediately starts gobbling with "gusto" at our calling, although he is several hundred yards away across a deep canyon. 

Soon, his gobbling indicates he has flown down...and not long after, we can tell he is moving down toward the canyon bottom. I have been here a few time before.  In the past, almost all gobblers heard from that ridge have gone down into the canyon and then to a big "gathering meadow" below where the area turkeys congregate each morning. Knowing this, I tell my buddy,..."this is the moment of truth, and it will be a miracle if that gobbler crosses the fence boundary and comes up here to us".

The gobbler reaches the canyon bottom two hundred yards below us, and with me fulling expecting to hear him fading away down the canyon to the meadow where I can hear a hen yelping. We sit and wait...and a minute later, a clear gobble rings out below us on our side of the canyon!  The gobbler is coming!

I tell my buddy to get his gun up and get ready as I continue to encourage the gobbler with soft yelping and clucking. The gobbler obliges us with gobbles as he continues up towards us.  There is no doubt this tom is fooled and is going to appear at any moment.

The slope below us allows us to see only about forty yards below falling off, so if he shows, he will be in range immediately, and there is a natural "lane" below us that the gobbler seems to be coming up.  I tell my buddy to keep his gun on that lane...and momentarily, I can see the gobblers head pop up at forty yards.  I whisper,..."there he is, he is coming right up through that lane". 

The gobbler is in full strut as he continues towards us, and in my mind, I am thinking,..."this is a done deal".  On he comes...thirty-five...thirty...twenty-five yards. He is clear of the last bit of brush and at the instant I am thinking "shoot him!", my buddy's gun goes off...and the gobbler goes down in an explosion of feathers (my buddy has a tendency to hold a bit low on a bird      )
...Miracles do happen!

What a way to start our hunt!  First morning and a beautiful gobbler in the bag! My buddy is elated...as am I since he is far less experienced a turkey hunter than I am. As we admire his downed gobbler...a beautiful, mature, two-year-old gobbler, we relive the hunt and bask in the glory of the high, NM mountain's sunrise.

This single, "classic" hunt is enough for this spot.  We walk back to the trucks, load up, and head out to our next "special opportunity" hunt that will start tomorrow morning in a new location.

[GobbleNut]

Friday, April 19th:  After relocating to our new hunt site and setting up camp on Thursday afternoon, we make good use of the evening roosting period and locate a number of gobblers, and I decide to hunt a mixed group of gobblers and hens roosted on a low ridge. Friday morning an hour before first light, I head towards the roost area and am set up above them as the eastern horizon begins to glow.

As is generally the case around here, at the expected time, the first gobbler sounds off in the trees roughly 80-100 yards below me. Soon he is joined by another...and then another...and another...and at least two more.  I am guessing there are a minimum of five mature gobblers within a hundred yards or so.  Unfortunately, I am soon hearing a plethora of hen turkeys scattered in the same trees and vicinity. All together, they are raising quite a ruckus in the trees.

As the skies lighten, I wait patiently, thinking the best course of action with so many birds close by is to let things unfold naturally to see what the birds do. Thinking there was a good chance they would fly down within eyesight on the slope below me, I am a bit disappointed when they begin to sail downslope and assemble out of sight below me, probably 125 yards away. 

At this point, I figure my only course of action is to join in amongst the cacophony of turkey calling going on below me and hope for the best, thinking that maybe one or more of the gobblers would come take a look...or a hen might be offended by the intruder, come to confront me, and drag one of the gobblers along with her.

Both gobblers and hens are answering my pleadings, but after a while, I am becoming convinced that none are interested in coming up the slope to investigate.  In the meantime, I have been hearing other gobblers off in the distance, and thinking that maybe there might be a player among them, I decide I might gather my gear and move on. I can always come back to try these gobblers later in the morning.

I have been standing in a thick clump of head-high pine trees all along so I could see down towards the turkeys better than if I was sitting, and I duck down to grab assorted items I had laid on the ground. After doing so, I decide to take one last look down the slope with my bino's,...and to my surprise, a white-tipped fan is visible coming up the slope a hundred yards out.  A gobbler is on his way!

Dropping my stuff again, I watch as the gobbler slowly struts up towards me. If he hesitates like he might lose interest, I give him a soft cluck/yelp sequence,...and with each, he regains interest and continues towards me, always in full strut. Onward and upward he comes, and I have now raised my shotgun, positioned it through the pine tree I am standing behind, and am waiting for his arrival within easy shooting range. He is seventy-five yards out and coming...then sixty...fifty...forty...and still coming straight on towards me. At twenty five yards, I decide he is close enough, put the bead on is head, and let 'er rip. Game over...gobbler down.

As I walk up to him, the first thing I notice are sharp-pointed, ivory-tipped, black spurs and my first reaction is that I have killed a whopper. I roll him over to admire what I assume will be an "appropriate" beard for such a fine set of spurs...and to my amazement, there is no beard there!  I search through the breast feathers back and forth...but there is nothing...not even a hint of a beard to be seen. At first, I am thinking I have somehow blown his entire beard off, but looking around on the ground, there are no "beard hairs" to be found.  Searching again through his breast feathers, I finally find the slightest "hint" of a beard at skin-level where a long and massive beard should have been protruding on such a fine gobbler. I am dumbfounded...to say the least. 

In his head-on approach in low-light conditions, I had just assumed the beard was tucked tight against his breast feather (as they often are) and I had not even considered that this bird might not have any beard at all...and had summarily pulled the trigger. ...But no matter, this is an old, mature gobbler and I am tickled at the hunt and the result. (Note: if this had been a "regular" NM general-season hunt, this gobbler would not have been a legal bird.  However, on this particular hunt, there is no "visible beard" requirement. Suffice it to say, I was fortunate in that regard... )

As is my custom, I sit for a while and take time to soak in the morning in all its glory...and relish that I have been lucky enough to have "discovered" spring gobbler hunting so many decades earlier in my life.  There is nothing like it!

This is a two-bird hunt so...one down, one to go. As it turns out, as I shoulder my gobbler and begin the satisfying walk back to my truck, I walk over a rise on the way and there, forty yards away, are four more mature gobblers strutting for a group of hens. The gobblers are so pre-occupied with trying to impress the ladies that they continue strutting quite long enough for me to have picked one out and ended my hunt right there.  I sit down for a moment and watch them as they slowly walk away into the trees.  One gobbler is good enough for this morning.  I will pursue another one tomorrow...

[JeffC]

Congrats on a great hunt Jim!!

[GobbleNut]

Saturday, April 20th:  I usually don't hunt the same group of birds after successfully hunting them once, but I had heard numerous gobblers in the area besides this group, so I decided to spend Friday evening hanging out in the area again rather than trying to find other birds. As it turned out, this flock roosted in trees quite close to where they had been Friday morning, so I decided I would try them again, thinking that if I was unsuccessful, I would wander the area looking for another responsive tom.

Before the first hint of daylight, I was positioned above the roost site, setting up within shotgun range of where I anticipated they might fly down.  However, when fly-down time eventually came, the entire flock...consisting of five mature gobblers and a couple dozen hens...flew down into the meadow below the trees they had roosted in about 120 yards away.  The area is pretty open, and I could easily keep track of them from my vantage point...so I sat and watched them as they went about their morning greetings and interactions with each other.
 
Eventually, I figured I needed to try to get one of the gobblers to break from the flock, so I began calling to them...sparingly at first, then with increasing urgency.  The gobblers would acknowledge most of my calls, and on two occasions, one of the gobblers would strut towards me only to be pulled back to the flock by the insistent hens. For an hour, we were at a stalemate. They held their ground, hens mingling around in the meadow feeding...gobblers in full strut...jakes off to one side in their small group.
 
Things were also beginning to get complicated by an increasing layer of fog setting in higher up the canyon from me, as well as gradually increasing winds...all due to a front that was supposed to hit sometime today. The weather forecast was for things to get nasty for the rest of the hunt...and I was beginning to think I might need to press things a bit with these turkeys.

Finally, they began to move towards a small, open cut up the hillside I was on, but still a good distance away from me. Between me and that cut was a thick screen of brush and small pine trees, so I made a mental note that, if and when they got behind that screen of brush, I would move towards them and re-set.

Eventually, I could not see any of them anymore, so I rose and, staying behind the line of brush and trees as best I could, I cut the distance by about half and called to them again. The gobblers immediately responded, so I sat down and began leaf-scratching with a few soft clucks and yelps thrown in...and watched intently, hoping one of the gobblers would show. ...Nothing...

I called again...and the gobblers answered, but sounded like they might be moving away up the slope beyond the cut, so I got up again and moved toward them, still behind the dense screen of brush and trees...but the closer I got to the cut, the more I realized that I was gambling that one of the thirty or so turkeys that were here would pick me out. 

By this time, I had decided that I was going to push the situation one way or another.  If I was busted, I would begin searching for another gobbler in the area and if I made it to the edge of the cut without spooking them, I would set up and try again. 

As I eased out to take a peek when I reached the end of the brush line, I immediately saw turkeys...and close!  Hen heads popped up instantly at fifteen yards, obviously seeing my movement, and quickly began walking left to get out of sight behind the brush line. I had one small lane to look through in the brush, and there, at thirty five yards, was one of the mature gobblers standing behind a small pine tree with his head clearly visible.

Without thinking much about it, I quickly shouldered my shotgun, put the bead on this head and fired. At the shot, turkeys went everywhere, and after recovering from the recoil of the shot, I immediately saw a gobbler running up the hill just to the right of where "my" gobbler had been.

Thinking the obvious...that I had somehow missed and the bird was running off, I jacked another round and stumbled forward to try to get another shot.  Two steps in, however, being the agile "old dude" I am, I went down in a heap, landing on my face and rolling unceremoniously down the hill, gun and gear flying every direction. By the time I recovered my wits, got up, and recovered my gun, the running gobbler was long gone.

As is always the case when I manage to screw up a hunt (which seems to be becoming more commonplace as I "age")  , I was in a state of shock and dismay at the whole affair.  I walked aways up the hill, looking for any signs that I might have hit the bird with the shot, but...nothing.  I then walked back up to where I had shot from, picking up my "empty" and then looking at the pine tree where the gobbler had been standing...verifying that he was well in range and there was no excuse for him not laying there dead on the ground.

Wanting to confirm the miss by inspecting the spot he was standing, I started heading that way. As I  approached the pine tree, I noticed something dark in amongst the branches...something that looked suspiciously like turkey feathers!  As I got closer, the dark spot began to take shape...and it was my gobbler!  He was standing there stunned with his head in the pine tree, apparently having taken a pellet in his brain, but otherwise still very much alive!  ...And the gobbler I had seen running away was apparently an entirely different bird altogether.

He was frozen, but as I began to reach for him, he backed out and tried to stumble away from me. At this point, I myself am still reeling from my fall and really don't want to try to chase down a gobbler, so when he stops and stands again at fifteen yards, I dispatch him.

Rarely do hunts run the gambit of emotions from total dejection to total elation, but this one did for me. Here I had concluded that I had blown the shot...only to discover otherwise.  However, I was at the same time distraught that I could very possibly have walked off and left this gobbler standing in the pine tree to probably die a slow death had I not decided to take a closer look. I was very lucky!

After all was said and done and the "smoke had cleared", though, I had filled my second (and final) tag on this hunt with a great gobbler...although the circumstances of the hunt did not completely fit my preferences.  He turned out to also be an older gobbler with ivory-tipped, sharp spurs...and, unlike my first, also had a good, thick beard.   

This hunt is separate from the general NM season, so I still have the possibility of a couple of gobblers ahead of me here,...and then onto Kansas in May, so more to come later...I hope...   




 

[JeffC]

Congratulations on 2nd Tom, great read also (unlike some of your team). I dont think you would ever just walk off after shooting at a Tom, your too good of a sportsman Jim, hope you recover from falling, I know it takes me some time to get over being sore. Glad you hunt with someone, hope you both have a plan if 1 doesn't show up at camp.

[GobbleNut]

Wednesday, April 24th:  I was still intrigued by the area I had hunted the first day of the NM season (LogDate 4/15), so I decided to return to that area for a morning hunt, hoping I would have the place to myself this time around. After my two-hour drive, I arrived at the spot I planned to launch my boat and cross the river just before gobbling time and stood waiting to see if one of the gobblers that had been there the week before was still around.

Right on queue, a gobbler sounded off far to the south across the river, so I unloaded the boat, loaded my gear, and went across.  That process took a bit of time, so when I started towards where I had heard the bird, he had most likely flown down and shut up because he was no longer gobbling. Nonetheless, I kept moving down through the area, calling as I went, hoping for a response. 

Eventually, I heard a gobble from further down so I continued in that direction calling. For the next thirty minutes, I would hear an occasional gobble, always far away, and never in response to my calling.  I was sticking to relatively soft "hen talk", thinking that was going to be the ticket, and was somewhat shocked that I was getting no answers.

There was regular gobbling coming from far to the south, so I continued towards it, again, calling as I went.  I finally reached a point where I was certain I was close enough to the gobbler that he must be able to hear me, but still, he would not respond to my hen calling. 

I decided to switch to a raspier call and try some jake/gobbler yelps...and at my first calls, he answered right back with a gobble from beyond a dense screen of brush, sounding like he was maybe 100 yards away. I quickly set up at the base of a big cottonwood tree and, after a bit, I gobbler-yelped at him again...another solid gobble in return. 


"Oh boy", I said to myself, "this might work"!  For the next fifteen minutes, we went back and forth,...me gobbler yelping, and him gobbling back...but getting no closer. I was unfamiliar with the area and was becoming concerned that there was some reason he would not venture closer...and after giving up hope that he was going to come, I decided to move towards him.

Soon, however, I found out the reason why he would not come, he was on the other side of a long "slough" (swampy area) in which the brush was so dense that he could not possibly walk through it through knee deep water...even if he wanted to.  I moved down the slough hoping to find a way across, but couldn't...and then walked back the other way, eventually finding a way around it.  However, once I had gotten on his side and back into the area where he had been, he had shut up and I couldn't raise another response.

By now I was over two miles from my starting point, so I started back, hoping to instill another gobble from anywhere along the way, but could not. Planning on only a morning hunt, and with it nearing noon by the time I got back to the boat, I loaded up and headed home,...but also gaining more knowledge about the area for future attempts.  ...I will be back... 

[GobbleNut]

Tuesday, April 30th:  First trip to the mountains for a Merriam's hunt in the general NM season. Planning on staying a few days...or until I fill my first of two tags.  The location I have chosen is an out-of-the-way spot on public land in "big pine" country that has BIG mountains and DEEP canyons.

My initial task requires a somewhat arduous hike up a steep mountainside to a listening spot that allows me to hear a large area that generally holds a gobbler or two. By first light, I have made my way up the mountain to that spot, and right on schedule, I hear gobbling from at least two gobblers from another, even higher, ridge to the west. I wait, hoping for closer gobbling...and preferably from an easier-to-get-to spot, as I have climbed this particular ridge before and I know what I am in for if I have to go there...and it isn't pretty.  Unfortunately, that wish is not granted and so I reluctantly start the trudge up towards the higher ridge.

By the time I reach the top of the ridge, it is significantly past fly-down time and the gobbling has long ceased...and with me not being certain as to exactly where it had come from, although I knew both gobblers I had heard were on private ground to the north. Not hearing any gobbling from the public side, I figured my only hope was that one of the gobblers could hear my calling and come looking. 

Once reaching the ridgetop, I walked along the top for a few hundred yards, calling into the canyon beyond as well as into the private stuff on the ridge where I thought the gobblers might be hanging out. I had walked as far as I could without dropping off into a big deep canyon, and made a quick decision not to do that as I was already pretty tuckered from the mile-and-a-half, near-vertical climb I had already made to get to where I was.

From where I was, I called loudly, hoping to maybe get a response from a distant gobbler. On one series of calls, I thought I heard a very faint "maybe-that-was-a-gobble" sound from the ridge on the private side. It was so faint and indistinct that, after more calling and no other responses, I concluded it was probably my wishful imagination that it was a genuine gobble.

Nonetheless, I had nowhere else to go besides back towards where I had come from, so I made the decision that I was going to sit down for a while, maybe take a nap, and just listen for perhaps a volunteer gobble. However, in my mind, I was still questioning whether I had actually really heard a gobble or not from the ridge above me. I found a great pine tree to sit against and catch the warmth of the morning sunshine.  Leaning back, I sat, waited, and listened.

I had been sitting there for maybe fifteen minutes when, suddenly, a clear gobble rang out up the ridge not more than a couple of hundred yards away.  I quickly got up, grabbed my shotgun, and looked for a better set-up location towards where the gobble had originated.  Moving back into the shadows, I noticed a scraggly pine tree just big enough to break up my form that was facing an opening that afforded me a clear view in the direction the gobble had come from.  I quickly made the decision to stand behind the pine rather than sit...and an added bonus was that a solid limb was right at "shotgun-aiming height" towards where the gobbler might approach. I was set and ready.

I called softly to see if he would respond and got an immediate response from a hundred yards out, giving me a firm fix on his location and probable approach direction.  I adjusted my positioning to the sound slightly...called again softly...and watched and waited.

A minute or two later, I see him coming through the brush at sixty yards, walking steadily in my direction...and I know this is about to be over.  I am firmly on his head with the beads of my shotgun as he keeps coming, and when he reaches twenty-five yards out, I pull the trigger, confident in the shot.  He is down for the count.

Wandering over and picking him up, I am not at all surprised that he is a two-year-old bird by his willingness to come readily to the call. He is a fine gobbler nonetheless, and I am absolutely ecstatic to have had the encounter with him. I took him to my tree in the sunshine, sat down again and admired him for a while, thanked whoever is in charge of such matters, took some pictures and video...and then headed back down the mountain with him over my shoulder. I must say, this has been and exceptional spring season so far! ...One thing for sure...it never gets old!...

Not wanting to use up my last NM tag with another bird on this trip, I make the decision to head for the house...with plans for another trip next week sometime...


   

[JeffC]

Congrats GN!! Great write up and picture.

[GobbleNut]

Monday, May 6th: Depart the house at 2:50 a.m. with plans to arrive at my chosen hunt location by gobble-thirty...and manage to get to that 9,000 ft. elevation just right.  The weather forecast is for high winds throughout the week, and although I am hoping the morning will start out calm for at least a while, when I step out of the truck, I am disappointed to hear the wind already beginning to pick up...but it is not so bad that I think I will not be able to hear gobbling from a good vantage point.

I gather my gear and head up an open canyon bottom towards a high point where I anticipate I might hear birds, and after a half-mile hike, I am in position on a ridge from which I have typically heard gobbling in the past. I wait for volunteer gobbling at "prime time", but as the skies lighten, I hear nothing.  Furthermore, I am disappointed when "tried and true" locator tactics fail to raise a response, as well.

Either the gobblers are silent this morning...or there are none within earshot...so I head further into the area, walking towards a series of draws further from the road. I cross several shallow, open draws and timbered ridges calling and hoping for a response from a gobbler, but am a bit disappointed that, for the next hour, I am getting no responses...or hearing volunteer gobbling from somewhere.

I am now a mile and a half from the nearest road...and am getting into some very "turkey-looking" country...and am seeing fresh evidence that they are around here somewhere. I move along slowly down a ridge, calling off into the bottoms on both sides.  The wind is now gradually getting stronger and becoming an issue for hearing anything beyond a couple hundred yards, but as I call at one point, I get a distant gobble-response from down a shallow draw off to my right.

In the wind, the gobble sounds weak and abbreviated, and my first thought is it might be a jake...but I also recognize that the wind could easily be distorting it.  Nonetheless, I judge that it is distant enough that I need to cut the distance, so I quickly head down towards it. 

This area is moderately open, and I have moved down maybe seventy yards when through an opening 150 yards away, I see movement. Picking up the bino's, I pick up a turkey moving up the hill towards me. Instantly, I drop down where I am at, hoping the bird has not seen me. Now sitting, however, I cannot see down to where the turkey is, so I have no idea whether I have spooked the bird...or not.

My quick sit has put me behind a small bush to my front, and another immediately to my left...both just high enough for me to see over the top and thick enough to break up my outline.  I could see a ways down towards where the turkey was, and figured if it was the gobbler and I was lucky enough that he had not seen me, he might come up where I could see him on his way...so I focused my attention down the hill in that direction. For the next fifteen minutes, I would call softly at intervals, intently focused on the area I figured the gobbler would approach from. No response...nothing.

My focus should have been broader, apparently, because I finally glanced to my left over the top of the left bush, and I immediately spotted a turkey standing and looking at twenty-five yards. Unfortunately, the slight movement I had made to look that way caught his (it is a jake) attention and he immediately becomes alert , looking my way and obviously seeing the movement.

To his right, I see another turkey about to come into the open. He steps just far enough for me to spot a white crown and red head, indicating it is a male turkey, but hesitates to come fully into the opening due to the nervousness of the jake.  In the meantime, I have cautiously raised my gun behind the concealment of the bush and get it positioned for the coup de gras if the opportunity arises.

The jake starts walking slowly back towards the other turkey, which keeps him from coming on out into the clear. He moves just enough for me to catch a glimpse of a beard, but not far enough for me to confirm he is a mature gobbler. I am on him but hesitate, not wanting to take a chance that he might also be a jake. I have a window of about three seconds to make the decision to shoot or not, and in those seconds, both turkeys turn and walk out of sight. 

I watch intently for a while longer, calling and hoping they will reappear somewhere, but they do not...and that is that.  I eventually work my way back towards the truck, calling as I go, and with the wind gradually working towards hurricane force. At this elevation, I know that the wind will not subside the rest of the day, and as such, I make the decision to bag this location and head for something lower...hoping that the winds are less of a factor.

One of my honey holes is lower down, and I decide to head there, spend the night in my truck, hope the winds subside overnight...and give 'er a go in the morning.  As the sun sets that evening, the winds seem to be dying down. There is hope for a morning hunt...

[GobbleNut]

Tuesday, May 7th:  Waking up and opening the truck door, I am encouraged that, although there is a "high breeze" in the tree-tops, the wind has subsided enough that I suspect I will be able to hear gobbling within a reasonable distance. At first light, I am ready to go and listening for gobbling.

This location is adjacent to a large tract of off-limits ground and I fully expect that any birds I hear will be across the line...and when the first gobbles ring out, that suspicion is confirmed.  I can hear at least five or six very distant gobblers on the private side...and zero on the public side. ...Par for the course here.

My only hope is again to call one of these birds onto the public side, and at fly-down, I start calling to the closest birds...of which it sounds like there might be three gobblers roosted in the same vicinity on a ridge across from me approximately a half-mile away.  Not knowing if they will even be able to hear me call, I call somewhat loudly and, at my initial calling, the gobblers respond. There is at least a sliver of hope here.

For a while, I plead with them, hoping one of them will break and come my direction, but eventually all gobbling ceases, no gobbler shows up as I wait for plenty of time for one to appear, and I finally admit to myself that there ain't none of them coming.

I go into my usual "prospecting mode", covering ground, calling, and hoping for a response, but the winds are again gradually increasing and becoming a discouraging factor.  I stick with it for a couple of hours, hitting the spots I think might hold a willing gobbler, but none oblige.  At mid-morning, I have had enough of the windy conditions...and head for home.

The season goes through mid-May, and I will contemplate making one more NM trip before the end. ...Not sure I will,...but maybe. I have already had an exceptional spring season all around and, other than wanting to get out again, I am not in the least concerned about filling my last tag here.  Regardless, a couple of buddies and I are headed to Kansas for our final round of the spring hunts on the 15th. ...Never been there before...and hoping for a fantastic experience there to end the 2024 spring gobbler season.

[JeffC]

Thanks for the update GN, safe travels and wish you a successful hunt.

[Tom007]

Tuesday, April 30th:  First trip to the mountains for a Merriam's hunt in the general NM season. Planning on staying a few days...or until I fill my first of two tags.  The location I have chosen is an out-of-the-way spot on public land in "big pine" country that has BIG mountains and DEEP canyons.

My initial task requires a somewhat arduous hike up a steep mountainside to a listening spot that allows me to hear a large area that generally holds a gobbler or two. By first light, I have made my way up the mountain to that spot, and right on schedule, I hear gobbling from at least two gobblers from another, even higher, ridge to the west. I wait, hoping for closer gobbling...and preferably from an easier-to-get-to spot, as I have climbed this particular ridge before and I know what I am in for if I have to go there...and it isn't pretty.  Unfortunately, that wish is not granted and so I reluctantly start the trudge up towards the higher ridge.

By the time I reach the top of the ridge, it is significantly past fly-down time and the gobbling has long ceased...and with me not being certain as to exactly where it had come from, although I knew both gobblers I had heard were on private ground to the north. Not hearing any gobbling from the public side, I figured my only hope was that one of the gobblers could hear my calling and come looking. 

Once reaching the ridgetop, I walked along the top for a few hundred yards, calling into the canyon beyond as well as into the private stuff on the ridge where I thought the gobblers might be hanging out. I had walked as far as I could without dropping off into a big deep canyon, and made a quick decision not to do that as I was already pretty tuckered from the mile-and-a-half, near-vertical climb I had already made to get to where I was.

From where I was, I called loudly, hoping to maybe get a response from a distant gobbler. On one series of calls, I thought I heard a very faint "maybe-that-was-a-gobble" sound from the ridge on the private side. It was so faint and indistinct that, after more calling and no other responses, I concluded it was probably my wishful imagination that it was a genuine gobble.

Nonetheless, I had nowhere else to go besides back towards where I had come from, so I made the decision that I was going to sit down for a while, maybe take a nap, and just listen for perhaps a volunteer gobble. However, in my mind, I was still questioning whether I had actually really heard a gobble or not from the ridge above me. I found a great pine tree to sit against and catch the warmth of the morning sunshine.  Leaning back, I sat, waited, and listened.

I had been sitting there for maybe fifteen minutes when, suddenly, a clear gobble rang out up the ridge not more than a couple of hundred yards away.  I quickly got up, grabbed my shotgun, and looked for a better set-up location towards where the gobble had originated.  Moving back into the shadows, I noticed a scraggly pine tree just big enough to break up my form that was facing an opening that afforded me a clear view in the direction the gobble had come from.  I quickly made the decision to stand behind the pine rather than sit...and an added bonus was that a solid limb was right at "shotgun-aiming height" towards where the gobbler might approach. I was set and ready.

I called softly to see if he would respond and got an immediate response from a hundred yards out, giving me a firm fix on his location and probable approach direction.  I adjusted my positioning to the sound slightly...called again softly...and watched and waited.

A minute or two later, I see him coming through the brush at sixty yards, walking steadily in my direction...and I know this is about to be over.  I am firmly on his head with the beads of my shotgun as he keeps coming, and when he reaches twenty-five yards out, I pull the trigger, confident in the shot.  He is down for the count.

Wandering over and picking him up, I am not at all surprised that he is a two-year-old bird by his willingness to come readily to the call. He is a fine gobbler nonetheless, and I am absolutely ecstatic to have had the encounter with him. I took him to my tree in the sunshine, sat down again and admired him for a while, thanked whoever is in charge of such matters, took some pictures and video...and then headed back down the mountain with him over my shoulder. I must say, this has been and exceptional spring season so far! ...One thing for sure...it never gets old!...

Not wanting to use up my last NM tag with another bird on this trip, I make the decision to head for the house...with plans for another trip next week sometime...


 

Great job, congrats!

[YoungGobbler]

Season is going very well Jim! Happy for you!