Had a pretty good weekend in the turkey woods. One of my favorite weekends each spring is helping with Northern Catskills longbeard chapter of the NWTF and their wounded warrior Vet hunt. I am not a member of that specific chapter but my NY hunting buddy is and I've been driving up whenever I can to help guide as I do I alot of hunting in the area. My hunter this year was Mike a 71yr old Vietnam Vet and a real stand up gentleman, Mike let me know he was no longer quick or very mobile (muttered something about a love of cigars, bad hips, and shrapnel) but was going to hunt hard and never complain and that he did! If you can tolerate a long winded story go ahead and read but feel welcome to just scroll down for pics if your attention span is short I feel like typing more than usual.
I was coming into town late Friday night so i had no ability to roost the evening before but it didn't matter I had a slam dunk spot to take him. Last report I had from this farmer was 8+ longbreards around this piece of ground and he wasn't letting anyone in to hunt until after the Vet hunt was over. I knew right where I wanted to be to the very tree to lean against, set up smack in the landing zone for the main roosting spot in a place we call The Island. The Island is a 10acre chunk of timber surrounded by hundreds of acres of tiled crop ground right along the Hudson River. There are 5-7 giant oaks in the north corner of the Island and for as long as I've been hunting there the birds would all roost right in those trees. Arrive at my buddy's place by 11pm Friday, up at 3:30am and to the Golf Course/motel where the hunters were staying by 4. A quick handshake introduction and a cup of coffee and we were off for the River bottom farm that I promised Mike would be loaded with birds. We parked by 4:40 and slowly made our way 700yds to the north end of that island and slipped into a brush blind we had built. As we were sitting down I could see turkeys hanging in the trees like little dark Christmas ornaments 1,2,3..4 I think, all right there at 30-50yds we were in the money I'm sure there would be some gobbles in no time blowing Mikes hat clean off. But as daybreak broke and a nearby train whistle blew, and crows started their morning routine we were greeted by silence from the trees in front of us, anytime now a bird should gobble smack in front of us but they didn't. As the morning began to lighten and unfold it quickly became evident there were no gobblers present. Those 4 lumps in the trees were hens that willingly followed the script of wake up, fly down, and walk right by us on their way to a plowed field. The only gobbles we heard were far in the distance and across a property line. I told Mike if he was up for a move we can't get in the woods they were in but we can maybe get to working distance to the only two we heard, Mike said lead the way and off we went but those birds ended up being jakes that I couldn't discern from the distance while hearing them on the roost. I was shocked, this farm has always been an almost unfair hot bed of turkey action and while my buddy was hunting another section of it during youth season just weeks ago said the Island was crawling with strutting birds. We did a little driving around, glassing and calling but couldn't locate so much as a single bearded bird to chase. I told Mike I had a backup spot nearby, as a major key to continued success in turkey hunting is always having back up plans because the birds rarely play exactly as you've anticipated. We drove over to the spot and I warned Mike that the woods were once again a long walk across some cattle pastures but Mike said we can't kill them from the truck and off we went. To get to the piece of timber I wanted to check we had to cross a busy set of railroad tracks, as we approached it we heard a train coming and we ended up having to wait for not one but two very long and very slow trains to pass heading opposite directions, once across and in the woods my calling was met with dead silence and Mike asked if we could leave to get a cup of coffee so we headed back across the tracks. We stop to glass a pipeline and spot a hen feeding a long way off; I call and get no responses to look behind me. Standing on the railroad tracks is a gobbler that had come in silent following my calling, instead of turning around he pitches of the tracks and sails into the woods off to our side. The bird didn't seem too spooked and I know the farmer often bumps them out of his back pastures so I suggested a quick loop and set up on the edge of the woods on the other side. We get almost around into another field and I spot a bird strutting in a depression in the field. Now that I can work, we get the edge off the corner and set up on a bar way between two fields. I pull out a Greg Longuillo scratch box and start easing into some light yet excited yelping. A bird gobbles almost immediately but not the one I had spotted in the field the one that just 10min ago flew into these woods after spotting us. He's about 200yds out and across a creek but I keep giving him some calls every so often and he seems to have moved a little closer with each gobble. I give him a few moments of nothing and check his position again, much closer and my guess is just on the other side of the creek but he has swung down to the pipeline and coming fast so I tell Mike he will have to reposition in front of me so he can see over the rise to where the pipeline comes out into the field. I'm not sure how but I guess that bird busted him because he went silent the second Mike went to make his move, maybe he flew half way to us when he pitched across the creek maybe he had a change of heart about dying that morning but he turned off like a light switch. We sat a little bit and continued to call but nothing responded so I said we could go but first I was going to slip up to the bar way and check on the field that had the strutting bird in it earlier. I ease up and start glassing the field but it's now empty until what's that in the woods on the other side that just moved, it's a tail fan easing off in the timber, pull out my range finder 318yds across I float some louder yelps on a diaphragm and watch in the binoculars for his reaction. He gobbles and spins around in full strut so I cutt at him and gobbles and takes a few steps. I pour a little heat on the fire and a in about 2min he's covered about 50yds on a straight line to me. I duck down and crawl out of sight to grab Mike and tell him I have a bird going in the field and he's coming. We ease back to where if he comes down the edge and looks through the bar way from the corner he'll be at 30-35yds and I set Mike in front of a stump and I kneel behind him. Back out the scratch box comes and immediately its answered he's coming; now he gobbles from the bottom of the swell in the field. I give him some silence to push him to walk more and strut less but finally the anticipation is too great and I need to check his location with another series of calls. He rattles back at 70yds but he's dropped out of the field and he's now in the woods with us to our left and its thick. He whisper to Mike get your gun up and point it off that tree out there if he comes up that deer trail you won't see him until he's right here. It's now that I begin to realize that Mike is carrying a shotgun he's probably owned for a long time it's a full 28in barrel 3.5" semi and way too heavy for him. He manages just 20 seconds holding the gun up before he has to lay it back on his lap. Well here comes ol' red head out from behind the brush at 19 steps heading from Mikes shoelaces and before I can say don't move or slow Mike raises his gun full speed and that bird turns on a dime off and running through the bottom he goes. Mike turns around and he's got his facemask down around his neck cuz it was interfering with his cigar lol. Welp that birds gone, so I stand up and think we'll leave and get Mike some coffee and I'll find him some shooting sticks and set him with my 20ga in the truck. I call over my shoulder as were about to pack it in and the bird gobbles back not 80yds still in the timber. I lay into him and he starts gobbling hotter than he was before. After about 5min I can tell he's strutting back and forth gobbling his snood off at about 50-60yds in the brush but unwilling to commit back to the funny looking quick moving stump he saw earlier. I tell Mike here comes the kitchen sink because I've got to get that bird jealous enough to make bad decisions. I get him to gobble and cut his gobble off with a gobble on my mouth call and drop into some fighting purrs which leads to a triple gobble by the Tom which I rudely cut him off again with a double gobble of my own. He's coking himself gobbling now and I'm probably getting red in the face trying to keep up with gobbles, purrs, cutting and yelping the whole time in-between. His gobbles track right up and back into the field and can hear the spit and drum coming, now I can see glints of tail fan through the brush and wait for the last second before he rounds the corner to tell Mike to raise his gun and aim just off the corner bush just as the bird struts into view and immediately locks up and raises his neck as high as he can. BOOM the gun barks and the bird hits the grass flopping hard. Pretty sure and I dove like a swimmer to fit between the strands of an old barbed wire fence and was on that bird before spent shell hit the ground (ok, maybe I'm not that fast). Mike was pumped but I'm sure I was more excited in that moment he was a light but very nice 3yr old bird 17lbs 9in beard with 1 1/16th spurs. Mike certainly had more spring in his step on the way out as we reminisced over the improbability of being able to turn around a spooked bird so fast. He was certainly dying for love that morning. We pulled into the parking lot and had started telling a story of the morning with a few other vets in the parking lot when I looked at my watch and saw it was 11:18am. I said boys, I got 40min left a spot 5min down the road and two tags in my pocket so TBC I need to go kill something. So I drove over to a spot I deer hunt regularly but had never gone to in the spring for turkeys but it was my only close by place. I got out of the truck grabbed face mask, 3 shells, and 2 calls a new Kruer long box and the scratch box from earlier and took off through a few spring gates to get back to the woods. Once inside the woods I stopped to chalk the box and look at my watch, 11:32 so I have 28min; doable if something is in the right mood I thought. First two cutts from the box and a bird in the right mood responds 400 or so yards deeper in the woods, off down the logging road I quickly race. I cut 150 off from him and fire up the box again, bam he gobbles and he's cutting ground too and faster than me, I stop thinking I need to get to a stone wall where the woods open up and get two steps before a crow comes over and the bird response 3 times each time closer than the last and I think nope he's just over that stone wall now this will have to do and dive in front of the nearest cedar. The woods are too thick but the logging road will do if I can get him to come down it. I lay the box down and grab the scratch box from earlier and give him just one more I am over here yelp series for him to hone in on and he gobbles just on the other side of that stone wall. I range it and the break in the wall for the trail is exactly at my comfort yardage. I get the dot centered on the gap and there he is blood red head standing tall slowly now walking out of the timber piercing glace down the center of the trail. I'm sure he can see me breathing heavy but I hold my ground as he slowly takes step after step seemingly staring me in the eyes the entire way he hits the mark of the stone wall break and I punch my safety off with a click so loud I swear it echoed. He freezes but it's too late and down in a heap with hardly a wing flutter he goes. 11:48am with 12min to spare on the noon deadline. Gorgeous bird and the kind of fast and furious hunt we all dream of at our desks. 20lbs 9-5/8ths beard with a nice set of heavy 1 1/8th spurs to close the day on another nice NY 3yr old. We had a great Lunch of steaks, wild boar, deer sausage, baked goods and beers while we admired birds and swapped stories. The 17 Vet hunters killed 8 birds that first day and 4 more in foul weather day 2 with a handful of misses and should haves.
Sunday we were in them as well, we had rain and very very heavy winds at times to contend with, I called multiple hens and jakes inside of 15yds but every time strutting birds were coming in they either were diverted by live hen or got into fights with Jakes which resulted in them chasing them the wrong direction. The wind and rain finally pushed them off the hill top field and into the pine bottom. Mike was still beat from the previous day and said he was cold, wet, and his knees were hurting and he was about done for the day by 9:30am he had an incredible hunt but was out of gas so I obliged to take him back to the hotel and get him a hot meal and coffee. I had a feeling if the sun came out the birds would come back out looking for the hen they had left behind (me). Sure enough after dropping Mike off I drove back by the farm we had been on and 2 birds were strutting right in front of our earlier set up. For a second I thought about going back in alone but I opted not to and called another one of the guides who had a vet out and told him where I had birds and how to get on them. Their hunt resulted in a clean miss of one of the strutting birds but I don't regret not going back I'm never in a hurry to tag out and I will be out with my wife this weekend and envision a husband/wife double.
Thanks for any read of my long winded story.
