GobbleNut Hunt Log 2025

[JeffC]

Congrats Jim, awesome hunt and write up!! Good luck on the next one, hopefully in a flat field.

[GobbleNut]

Congrats Jim, awesome hunt and write up!! Good luck on the next one, hopefully in a flat field.

  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. 

[Happy]

Good job, Jim! Glad your putting a pooping on them.

[lacire]

  another nice one congratulations.

[GobbleNut]

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: 
 

[GobbleNut]

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! 

[eggshell]

Your certainly on a roll captain

[backforty]

Thanks for posting the stories gobblenut. I enjoy reading them and congrats on a great season.

[JeffC]

Congrats Jim on another great hunt and write up.

[YoungGobbler]

Always fun to read your stories Jim!

[avidnwoutdoorsman]

Good read Jim and congrats on the success!

[GobbleNut]

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.

[GobbleNut]

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...   
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. 

[GobbleNut]

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!