Stories – Page 2

Lucky Striker Turkey

May 27, 2014 by Charlie Leave a Comment

This gobbler seemed so easy at the start, it’s now been 2 hours and quiet has settled in with no response to any call. He gobbled and moved closer only to fade off as they so often do. In the meantime there were many gobbles off somewhere else causing my stiff body to yearn for another setup. A little while longer, his last gobble was so very close he can’t be far.

After another half hour or so with more gobbles echoing through valley I succumbed to the move bug. Planning to return later I crept as quietly as possible back to the boat. While stowing my gear I noticed my favorite striker was not in its designated pocket, must be back at the setup. My gaze noticed my gun laying in the boat, a quick internal debate decided it should come with even though it is a short hike to the setup.

As I bent to pick up the wayward striker laying right where it had been set the feeling of something staring came over me. Slowly my eyes rolled around scanning the woods, nothing… I grasped the striker and rose to leave my hunter’s scan continuing to look for the out place line and there it was as my back straightened to full height a tom staring in my direction. He continued advancing towards me in a juking head zigzag obviously searching for the hen who had so seductively called for so many hours.

Wild turkeys have a sharp eyesight so the slightest misstep now would send the turkey off to safe refuges only turkeys know. Gently I leaned my left shoulder against the aspen, it had the same dappled color tones as my camo. At this moment the tension in the that woods was stifling. The purring turkey would take a step or two then stop, look and listen.

My right hand readied on my gun that was pointed at the ground in line with my leg, both (my gun and I) were doing our best impersonation of that little tree as the turkey had slunk well within range. The left hand must soon be brought into play…

The turkey’s head crossed behind a small tree as he started to puff into strut thought the better of it and increased his pace apparently satisfied the hen was gone there was no reason to stay. Fingers loosened from the striker and grabbed the forearm of the rising shotgun, my body rolled around the tree now turned to face the turkey. The tom should have run or flew but as is so often the case they stop to get a better look when they see movement from where they expected to see a turkey.

As the roar of the gun subsided there was barely a break in the other springtime sounds. Just me with a lucky striker laying on the ground pointing at a dead turkey.

Sometimes It’s Easy

May 7, 2014 by Charlie Leave a Comment

It was one of those rare magical turkey hunting mornings yesterday, when the weather is beautiful & the turkeys are loud & suicidal.

Morning alarm set at 3am, 70 mile drive to northern unit 2, in the woods before 5am, turkey down at 5:30am. Nice size, 22+ lbs. 5+ pounds of turkey breast to be smoked at Maplewood Meats.

I had planned to hike in about a mile, most of it no-trail, to a wooded ridge. But turkeys gobbled nearby while I was getting out of the car. Set up just a few hundred yards in, 100+ yards from two competing gobblers. Then I fixated on a bunch of brush about 8 yards in front of me, worrying that I wouldn’t have a clean shot. So I stupidly crawled forward & snipped branches. Bad move. I never heard the two gobble again. But somebody must like me, since a third soon lit up 200+ yards out in a different direction. I only ended up calling twice to bring him in, soft yelping & clucking. He came in quiet the last hundred yards, stopping to strut every half dozen steps. While I was tagging him & taking photos another nearby tom began gobbling & was still gobbling as I walked out.

It was the 3rd day I hunted, & the first decent weather day. The other hunts had several non-turkey critter adventures involving a fox squirrel, multiple deer, & a coyote. Had one turkey near-death Thursday. The tom was 60 yards out, coming uphill gobbling to me when a doe & two yearlings stepped out between us. Never saw them until they were in front of me. Incredibly they lingered for 15 minutes 15-20 feet from me while the tom gobbled & plucked on the other side of them. A lot more to that story, but the ending was no turkey.

Interesting thing about the online harvest count. I looked at the Zone 2 number when I registered just before noon yesterday. Then at 5pm I refreshed the page. The count went up ONE, me I assume, from 6249 to 6250. Later at 9pm a refresh added 95 more, where it stays this morning.

How to Hunt Turkeys in Wind & Rain

April 28, 2014 by Charlie 1 Comment

Wisconsin wild turkey hunters are moving into their third season. That comes with rain and wind which is typical of springtime weather. Most hunters think this is better than snow, although on May 5th of 2013 20 inches of wet snow suffocated the woods. Let us all hope there will be no repeat performance this year. The thing a spring turkey hunter must keep in mind is the turkeys are still there doing turkey things no matter the weather. Where else are they going to go?

Soggy rainy days can be productive. The turkeys are still doing what turkeys do.

Wind and rain bring some advantages to the turkey hunter who perseveres through their discomfort. Both help hide hunter’s movements and noises. When the wind is blowing there is movement all around from greases, brush and trees. A turkey’s eyesight is their first line of defense however it is only 2 dimensional eyesight so background movement makes it harder for the turkey to pick out danger. This causes turkeys to move less and become more wary,(if you can imagine that). A turkey’s second defense is their acute hearing which also is impaired due to wind and rain moving plants while causing background noise that aids in covering accidental human made sounds setting the stage for a successful hunt.

To avoid the loss or degradation of the their primary defenses turkeys hangout or loaf around in areas where the wind has less affect. Such as hollows in hilly country or even folds in open field land and flat woodlands. Rain seems to keep turkeys from moving around as much so when a hunter finds turkeys they’ll be less likely to leave the sheltered area. If the hunter can enter these zones relatively undetected and waits 15-20 minutes for “settle time” before calling softly they may soon find a lonely turkey silently responding to their calls. Keep in mind the rain and wind that takes away from the turkey’s senses also diminishes the hunter’s. This will make identifying the approaching turkey more difficult.

Today’s modern turkey hunters if they go hunting in the rain and wind setup in a blind. This is better than not hunting but remember turkey movements are curtailed during times of less than perfect weather. These blind and decoy spreads are occasionally successful. I have little advice to offer with these blind setups even though I have killed a few gobblers from blinds on bad weather days.

My preferred bad weather tactic is “sneak’n and gun’n”. A version of running and gunning at a much more careful and focused pace. A rain suit is a give away, way too noisy. Instead I wear fleece which is quiet, warm, sheds quite a bit of water and dries quickly using wearer’s body heat. Wood and slate calls will not work wet. Mouth calls, wingbone calls. and crystal pot calls with synthetic strikers are the order of a inclement weather days.

When possible setup with the wind to your back. This is more comfortable and call sounds carry downwind better than upwind. There is a theory turkeys prefer to travel into the wind rather than against it. Traveling into the wind keeps their feathers down in natural position, where as traveling with the wind pushes their feathers forward causing some discomfort and soaking under their feathers if it is raining.

If the hens are nesting they are more likely to stay on nest rather than be interested in any advances from a gobbler. So the hunter may have more lonely receptive gobblers to work with.

Remember when morning weather is bad turkeys will usually leave the roost later. I’ve encountered roosted turkeys as late as 11 am. Unless the hunter has roosted turkeys the night before they may want to wait until they hear turkeys or it’s light enough to see before heading into the woods. On the other side of the day if late afternoon/evening weather turns windy and wet turkeys may go to roost earlier.

So when is a good time to hunt? Whenever you have the open tag and time off.

Good turkey hunting.

Looking Gift Turkeys in The Beak

April 27, 2014 by Charlie 4 Comments

The gobbles carried down to the valley floor as if the toms were spectators in a coliseum cheering on their favorite hunter. With an open tag in my pocket I found the sounds of those turkeys remarkably soothing. So it was on opening day 2014 of Wisconsin’s season B wild turkey season. To use a cliché “Let the games begin.”

Frequently I am asked “How can gobbling turkeys’ sooth and relax you?” There was a time in the beginning when those gobblers fired up my nerves and I would dash from gobble to gobble, seriously, running and gunning to the point of exhaustion by the quiet time of 8:30. I would collapse at the base a tree catching my breath and a bite to eat wondering what I did wrong. Early on a lot of turkeys I killed were more happenstance mainly because I stayed in the woods while most other hunters left for breakfast. Those were heady days of heart pumping adrenaline turkey hunts. But now I take things in more methodically, or at least think I do. I force myself to relax and think.

Somewhere along the line I came to realize there is no rush or at least not usually to get to the gobbler. Instead it is better to take a reflection moment to pause and analyze; where those turkeys are, which direction are they facing, how many are there and are they in the same tree or neighboring trees? Are there any soft clucks, ruffling feathers and wings of other turkeys between me and the noisy gobblers? All this helps determine the most approachable turkeys.

Decision made, I head to the west turkeys moving quietly keeping as many treetops as possible between us as possible. There are no leaves yet and roosted turkeys can see long distances very easily from their roosts. 5:30 finds me comfortably setup with 2 or 3 birds gobbling a welcome to the dawn just uphill about 150 yards. Let the conversation begin – my teaser call makes soft yelps and instantly gets the turkey’s attention. I hear them turn on roost, they are now facing me. The hunter’s life is good.

Should have called more aggressively a group of hens yelp from the field above my toms turn to face them. I call loud and hard they turn back my way making the hens madly vocal. Yelps and scrambling wing beats are answered by my frenzied calling then all is quiet. I could not tell where they flew the sounds echoed back and forth across the valley. Soon it was apparent they’re on

Fading away gobbler.

the ground at the top of hill. I put my Tongue Teaser into aggressive mode, chain gobbling erupted and started closing the distance. They were coming down hill fast hitting the logging trail drumming loudly. Red and blue heads passed by in range behind my bead. It was only about 6 on opening day with one tag in my pocket and good weather in the forecast the gun stayed silent as the gobblers faded away. I don’t usually look gift turkeys in the beak but after a long winter of anticipation it was just so early in my season. It felt good to hunt.

Years of wild turkey hunting will train your ears to hear all the subtle sounds of spring. Wild turkey hunters develop a deep appreciation for the season’s sing songs. However, when a deep throated gobble rumbles out and off a valley laser like focus hones in the source.

I crossed the valley ascending the other side as quietly as possible to within 70 yards of the hard gobbling turkey. He answered and moved towards my calls only to hang up. Then all went quiet.

My setup was not as good as I had thought, downright uncomfortable with some serious visibility issues. I noticed if I side-hilled about 50 yards visibility would be much better. Scoped out a course that would keep brush from scraping on my vest and “turkey walked” my way to a much better setup. Unless turkeys start making noise I’ve learned to always wait for the settle to take place after a move.

After a bit of trail breakfast I heard a distant gobble on land I can hunt, he gobbled a few more times as I considered whether or not to pursue. I cast out a long loud audio line to see if I could hook him…

The deep gobble erupted with authority close by from somewhere on my left – time to get ready for the shooting part. As is a common behavior the turkey appeared before I could get ready. A sight to behold as he strutted closer swinging his beard sunlight dancing on bronze feathers. No trees big enough to block his vision so no gun moves for me. Long delicious minutes passed as he strutted, drummed and shook to refresh his feathers for the next display.

While fanned out he turned away from me, the gun shouldered into position. Perhaps he heard something or maybe that 6^th sense that speaks of things amiss. As his head rose out of strut a single shot ended my first of 2014 Wisconsin wild turkey season within 3 hours from its start.

As he lay still on the carpet of last fall’s leaves I sat by him slowly stroking those bronze iridescent feathers that even in death catch and bend the light. Appreciation and reflection is good for the soul. That being said–Never look a gift turkey in the beak and if you do – DO NOT do it twice in the same day.

Turkey Turkeys Everywhere March 7, 2014

March 7, 2014 by Charlie 1 Comment

Descending into the valley listening to snowshoe crampons scraping along the icy trail rain drops spattering on wool covered shoulders I thought at least the temperature is 30 some degrees above zero. That in itself is a welcome change. Vic and I have trudged up and down this steep trail almost daily all winter no matter the weather and oh has there been weather this winter. Now on this March day during the winter of 2014 it is finally mild of temp. For that we are grateful in spite of the light rain, at least rain should not need to be shoveled when we get back home. It is the same with so many winter weary Wisconsinites venturing out to find signs of spring, all of us appreciate the small improvements.

A turkey hunter seeks more signs of spring, they want to hear and see turkeys, especially those turkeys who gobble. At first this morning’s descent seemed like all others of the past frigid weeks and then sounds of birds begin to tickle the ears. Ah, the silence of winter punctuated with a long lost sound of past springs. That alone is enough to rustle the leaves of my heart.

Vic, up ahead has more prance in his step, being careful to stay on our well packed trail. For if he weaved off, the cold deep snow would grasp his body chilling him to bone.

Thin fog wisps are floating in leisurely circles as we turn to make our south circle. This trail has become like a graveyard this winter. Deer bones are strewn all along. Apparently as the deer became too weak to move through the deep snows as subzero temperatures robbed their bodies of its remaining life energy they came for final rest along these warmer southern slopes.

Usually by now, in years past the turkeys have been very vocal and active. Until this morning all places seemed devoid of turkeys. At first I thought the cluck was just the inner pop of a cold tree. But then there was another. Vic snapped to point up hill as 30 turkeys rose to flight. The turkeys looked to be in remarkably good health, though hard to tell for sure through all the winter feathers.

But the rush of turkeys lifted the hearts of these winter weary hunters. Vic tried vainly to bound up after them. He got a good cardio workout in snow over his head and returned to trail with a smile on his face. As we continued along more turkeys flushed, clucked, yelped and yes…Gobbled. Clearly they are back.

Over the years during hard winters or tough spots in winter I have thought perhaps turkeys migrate. But where to?

Last winter was tough too. While snowshoeing across a hilltop field a flock of 30 – 40 turkeys flew in loose formation over head looking like they were on their way somewhere not near here. They were a couple hundred yards in the air and until that moment I had never seen such a flock flying so high. My first thought was they were migrating. To my knowledge there has never been a study of turkey travel during a hard winter. Some studies have tracked fall broods as they join into winter flocks and other studies tracked spring hen dispersal. These studies found turkeys that moved 15-20 miles. Is it possible winter turkeys move much further? I think it is very likely. Which is why a “good” area can be devoid of turkeys for so long and then all of sudden the turkeys are there just as quickly as they had left.

Back the morning hike; we found at 200+ turkeys in area that no turkeys yesterday nor any of the weeks before.

A clear sign of a good spring hunt to come.

25 Below Zero Turkey Hunting

January 6, 2014 by Charlie 3 Comments

Last night a farmer had called inquiring why I had not been out turkey hunting on his farm? Last time Vic and I hunted this farm there were no turkeys, that happens a lot during fall turkey season. The turkeys are there and then they are not. My farmer friend continued “As of a couple of days ago he said there had been a turkey invasion.” OK 2 days of fall turkey season left–time to squeeze in a Wisconsin unit 3 hunting trip.

The truck’s thermometer said 25 below I as stepped out into yesterday’s unit 3 sunrise. The frigid air started crystalizing around my face instantly and the snow screeched with each step of my snowshoes. All I could think is how dangerous a turkey addiction can be. But waiting for a warmer day is not an option with the season closing in only 2 days.

Faint sun dogs on the morning’s horizon outlined the roosted turkeys. There were turkeys roosted nearly everywhere along the field edges. The only approach available is across a barren snow covered 140 acre field and those turkeys. Hiding from all those sharp turkeys eyes was impossible so all the noise of my approach did not matter. What does matter in this situation is the directness for a hunter’s approach. By that I mean if you were to walk in a straight line towards the turkeys they will get very nervous and flush. Usually a good thing during a fall hunt, if the turkeys break apart and head off in different directions. That is Vic the Turkey Dog’s preferred strategy. However due to the intense cold Vic is not on this hunt, he has no coat to keep him warm during a prolonged cold setup. Cold of this magnitude affects all dogs so I grudgingly left Vic at home.

My approach towards the turkeys was indirect, a steady meander across the field to a shrubby point that had frozen wild grapes, dogwood berries and elderberries. This setup put the turkeys at an angle to my left that way if things go according to plan the turkeys coming off roost will be approaching on my strong shooting side. Many years of hunting turkeys have taught me turkeys do not seem to remember danger after a period of quiet waiting. So after a long silent 20 minute wait, -25 makes a 5 minute wait seem long, 20 minutes feels like hours. I belted out the first series of assembly kee’s to the still roosted turkeys. Feathered wings began shaking off frost and a bunch of turkeys sailed off roost passing by and stumbling to their landing in the field about 25 yards to my right- a gobbler rolled dead at the shot. Large wings stirred up a whirl of snow crystals as they clawed their way back into the sunrise.

As anyone who has been out in serious cold temps knows a lot of things don’t work in this kind of cold, various body joints, mechanical parts, particularly anything electronic and this morning that included my camera. As I trudged back across the field I could the turkey getting stiffer the turkey was frozen by the time I reached the truck for the drive home.

A gobbler from a different hunt. My camera did not work at 25 below.

This was my coldest turkey hunt ever. Over the years I’ve been asked what makes me do these extreme hunts? Interesting term as I don’t think of them as extreme. It’s mostly simple I look forward, no I obsess over the next hunting season, my quiet prayer is “Oh God, please just one more season. So if the season is open, no work on the schedule (that can’t be rescheduled) and an open tag in my pocket it’s a good day to hunt.

To me the best part of hunting is getting into the hunt, being immersed so that no other day to day mundane problems enter the mind. It’s a mental preparation so that you are not thinking about any discomforts, undo home front tasks or checking the happenings on the grid. A sense of freedom washes over and through the soul of a hunter. It’s just you, the weather, the turkeys and the surroundings. If not for those turkeys that morning I would not have been there. Had I not been there I would not have the seen the sun dogs at sunrise, heard the squeak of the snow nor the frosty feathers being ruffled as the natural morning wakeup time arrived. As a hunter I was a participant rather than just an observer.

Treble Hooked Triple Beard Turkey: What?!?

June 17, 2013 by Charlie 5 Comments

My good friend and hunting partner Jerry Cusick had one of the toughest spring turkey hunting seasons during this Wisconsin 2013 season. We all had some seriously tough weather to contend with but nothing like Jerry experienced so it is good he killed this unique gobbler.

Story as told by Jerry Cusick:

What I remember is it was downright cold that morning (First day of 3^rd WI turkey season). I was bundled up pretty good and that was just barely warm enough. I was hunting above the river bluff on the edge of a picked corn field. There was gobbling in the dark before legal time, but nothing after fly-down. It was at least 2 hours later when I heard a faint gobble somewhere down the bluff. I called and he did not answer a hen yelp. I switched to deep drawn out gobbler yelps and he gobbled back. In my scouting the day before I found male turkeys still hanging out with other males, so I wasn’t surprised that it worked. It only took about ten minutes and he came up from below. I had a hen and jake decoy out and there was also a live jake that had walked in minutes before. The adult gobbler immediately went into strut and ambled towards the live jake until he moved off. The adult tom then turned and came right into my set-up. He never gobbled the whole time I watched him and he never broke out of strut either. I could hear him spit and drum clearly many times before I finally pulled the trigger at about 10 yards. He had good spurs, a triple beard and the odd thing was the treble hook with swivel that I found imbedded in his waddle. I have no idea how he got it, but believe he may have tried to roost in a tree near the river where someone had lost their tackle up on a limb.

photo and kill by Jerry Cusick.
Triple bearded wild turkeys are rare but what was imbedded in the turkey’s neck is even rarer.

A Treble Hook in a wild turkey’s neck?!
photo courtesy of Jerry Cusick.

I have killed a lot of turkeys over the years many of them near rivers and streams that experience heavy fishing pressure but I have never seen a fish in a wild turkey. Nor have I ever heard of it happening before, ever. How is the world would a fish hook find its way into a wild turkey’s neck?

Snowbound Turkeys & Hunter

May 30, 2013 by Charlie Leave a Comment

This is a turkey tale during the May snow storm of 2013, the turkeys who lived in it and the hunter who hunted in it.

This adds a dimension of challenge I had never in my turkey hunting life dealt with.

I stepped out the door into knee deep snow, my first thought “Is it really May?” Yes it was May in Wisconsin and the 4th week of spring turkey season had begun with 20+ inches of grainy wet snow. The deafening sound of trees giving way under all the snow’s weight gave me pause; and I wisely chose to hunt the next day instead. In the old days we called those crashing trees and limbs widow makers. I don’t often change hunting plans but I have a lot of respect for widow makers.

The sun struggled even harder than me to get up the next morning and it, the sun, did not make it up. Well, it might have been up it’s just all the snowy drizzle clouds might have just been blocking my view.

Not a turkey could be heard so I setup for some cold calling. Ten minutes into my first set of lost yelping – a GOBBLE! But it sounded odd with a kind of deadening muffle to it. His red head stuck out harshly against the white landscape, something about his movements were very strange…

This gobbler could not walk on the snow either, he sunk right to his breast and this manned up turkey was not about to let a little snow get between him and a damsel, I mean hen in distress. Never before had I seen a turkey clawing the snow with their wings with move forward. It had to be tiring; soon his great wings lifted him up onto a large snow covered oak branch. He trudged back and forth causing the snow to fall off. Kind of like he was shoveling a strut zone and strut he did. I was not sure if his booming gobbles were causing the scattering of the snow on surrounding trees or if it was from a breeze up above.

This gobbler’s show was worthy of an Oscar as time slid by unnoticed. He gobbled, I yelped trying to sound as lonely and cold as I felt. We were a fine duo him and me. If he had not been out of range our song would have ended before all those other turkeys came flying in.

That’s right, more turkeys, 5 hens, a jake and 2 more gobblers flew in to apparently start up a choir. Snow scattered filtering its way to the ground. The turkeys fluttered from limb to limb cackling, clucking and gobbling to an unseen director. My numb hands could not keep up the right tempo on the crystal pot call. I could not get any of those turkeys to move a few more trees over towards me and since they were up above me I am quite sure they saw me; but they gave that no clue to that.

For over 3 hours or so it seemed; time was irrelevant, those turkeys entertained, taught and frustrated me. They had quieted down while feeding on the oak buds and blossoms eventually fluttering away to do whatever it is turkeys do on snowy May days.

Dart Board Turkey

May 27, 2013 by Charlie Leave a Comment

Every year I throw a dart at a map to find a new place to hunt.

Due to all those unexpected things that come up in life Wisconsin’s 3rd spring turkey season did not start off as planned. I could not get out hunting during the morning, you all know how that feels when you have active tags in your pocket and the morning dawns with beautiful hunting weather.

Come noontime the distracting tasks were completed and I was finally free so I decided to head over to unit 3 to a place I had never before hunted. I like to hunt a new area every year without any extensive map studies or scouting. The area was picked by hanging a county forest map on a dart board and where the dart hit I headed to.

Hunting a different area completely cold is something I do at least once each spring and several times every fall. To me it is one of the ultimate challenges of turkey hunting and an excellent way to hunt without any preconceived notions about the lay of the land or the turkeys inhabiting said land. I find this concept keeps my skillset sharp and opens up more “known” hunting acres for me to consider each season. Without pre-scouting you must quickly get attuned to the new area by paying close attention to all the small details of sound and sign. So it was I found myself standing at the end of a county forest spur at 2:00 pm.

After enduring the horrible weather of season 1 this gorgeous day lent itself well to a beautiful walk in woods. Other than the sounds of the usual cardinals, orioles, Canadian sparrows and other assorted song birds punctuated by the occasional goose honk; it was a relaxing walk in the woods. That is, until 6p when the tell tale single yap of a gobbler pierced through my revelry to swiftly draw my attention to task at hand.

The woods was full 50 year old straight manicured oaks dotted with red pines making the selection of a doable setup quick and easy. I’d love to report a long battle of heavy back and forth calling and maneuvering but that would be an exaggeration. From my selected tree I made 2 yelps on a slate pot, heard a half gobble much like a jake and son of gun there he was standing at 20 yards.

But it was quite clear he was no jake perhaps just an experienced gobbler who knew he should not sound off too loudly but ended up vulnerable to a dart board.

Double Beard Lightweight Turkey

April 10, 2013 by Charlie Leave a Comment

On April 10th the opening day of Wisconsin’s 2013 wild turkey season I awoke to find the temperature at 21 degrees, 16 mph wind, snow covering the ground and sideways freezing whatever. Not exactly the kind of weather spring turkey hunters dream about.

So I did what any self respecting old turkey hunter does on days like this-

Enjoyed a pot of coffee
Chatted with Mrs. elk
Puttered around with stuff until I figured the turkeys were well off the roost.

My Reasoning– When there is no foliage the woods is naked and as was the case this morning it’s very easy to see anything against the white landscape. Roosted turkeys with their 8 power binocular eyesight would have spotted me in an instant. Best to wait until they are down on more equal footing.

Since I had no idea where exactly any turkeys were I setup cold on a windswept point over looking a 2 mile valley. I chose my Willow Ridge Death Wish pot and peg call to start and after 2 sets of calling to my utter surprise a group of gobblers across the valley enthusiastically chain gabbled back. I called more aggressively and they moved along their side until they were almost straight across from me. The sound of large wings lifting off brought a spark of hope as they pitched off and sailed to the bottom of the valley on my side. My plaintiff calling brought no more responses for an hour. I was iced over and soaked obviously under dressed for these spring time conditions.

My Reasoning– When the turkeys are not gobbling you must try and make things happen. I frequently setup on points where the sound of my calling will travel a great distance and in return I’ll have a better chance of hearing turkeys answer. Listen for turkey vocalizations other than gobbles. Toms will not always gobble an answer, many times they cluck or yelp back.

Back at the hut the hot soup refurbished my resolve…

Changing into more and dry snow camo I stuffed the snow net in my vest and headed down and circled around where I thought I had last seen the birds. Willow’s Death Wish call sang out and was promptly greeted by thunderous gobbles below and out of sight. I moved down the tight logging trail which offered no good setup locations. So I setup in a not so good spot, if the turkeys came they would be nearly in my lap with only the snow net between us.

Picture taken from the turkey’s point of view.

The first set of 3 came in, jakes, I thought about taking 1 to fill my tag because the forecast was full of bad weather for the next several days. There is no dishonor shooting a jake but I didn’t want my first turkey hunt of the year over so quickly. Instead of shooting I waved my gun barrel to scatter them out of the way. I was convinced a long beard lurked behind. The jakes flew up into the trees around me and they were worked into a frenzy; started loud angry purrs, clucks and putts. I yelped loudly back at them, one of the treed jakes caught my moment and he took to flight, in the same moment a thunderous gobble on the hill above snapped my head around. Yeah, I know, couldn’t help it, he startled me with his feathers rattling at the tail of each gobble. In spite of him obviously being in range, incredibly I couldn’t see him on that brush choked snowy hillside.

My Reasoning– In a tight spot like this the jakes needed to be cleared off the trail to make way for sir gobbler. If a gobbler is out numbered by jakes he rarely pushes his way in rather he finds another place. Since these turkeys were challenging each other I changed my calling accordingly.

More aggressive gravelly yelps from me; I don’t know how he got to standing on the trail but there he was gobbling hard at 16 feet with only the snow net separating us. In my early days of turkey hunting the turkey had the advantage during a stand off like this. Not so any more; as you can see he did not win the race.

An unusually small turkey considering he sports a double beard.

Nice double beard, 1/2″ blunt spurs and weighed only 14 lb. 12oz. I wonder if all the turkeys are going be small bodied this year? Aw, who cares, it’s all fun.

Wisconsin Mississippi River Backwaters Turkey Hunt

January 13, 2013 by Charlie Leave a Comment

At least they were there

2011 Spring, unit 1 Wisconsin Turkey Hunt somewhere north of La Crosse on the Mississippi River

Hunting some flat lowland was a treat after all the snowy, wet slippery hill climbing of season 2. I could only hunt the weekend of season 3 and still had the snow mixed with rain plus a little high wind just to keep things interesting. I found a sheltered area where the turkeys were hanging out in very good numbers and responded well to lost hen yelping. Truth be told I whiffed on a bunch of gobblers Saturday they just kept picking me out and walking off before I could shoot. Apparently I was wearing the wrong tree so I vowed to change camo for tomorrow’s hunt.
Even though I was damp and cold Saturday I stayed until a gobbler roosted, marked the spot on the GPS and arrived back at the boat landing just darkness settled in.

Oh dark something Sunday morning:

The choppy waves banging on the jon boat’s front made enough noise that I was sure would scare away all the turkeys before I setup. He flew down Sunday in the early dawn light at 5:30 gobbling like crazy in the 20+ mph wind and sleet. He circled to my right side within 6 ft where there was no way to shoot, then circled back around the fallen tree top to the front. At 8 feet he was head on gobbling at me non-stop for what seemed an entirety, my gun drooping from the sling hanging on my knee. He was so close turkey spit was soaking my headnet with each gobble. No chance to even blink. Finally he raised his head up turned it sideways with a branch blocking his eye, my gun was mounted as he juked his head for a better look; the wad never had a chance to open.

Fall Turkeys and Kids

September 25, 2012 by Charlie Leave a Comment

We covered the 100 yards to where the turkey had disappeared. The quivering of Vic’s legs and tail indicated the turkey was near, the electricity of excitement crackled through the air between the kids and dog. I whispered to my grandson tell Vic to “Get em up Vic; TURKEY!” his young voice quivered as he gave the command. Vic launched charging uphill, but I had seen the turkey go down towards the creek. The sudden chain cackling, putting and large wings beats certainly proved Vic knew more than me at that moment. He busted a big flock; turkeys ran by us, flew overhead and some landed in trees all around us; the kid’s eyes bulged with excitement as they gleefully giggled with delight.

Then it was quiet even the creek seemed to stop for a moment, the kid’s mouths were agape with no sounds and their wide eyes darting around to catch another glimpse of a turkey.

Breaking the silence in a trembling whisper my grandson says “what now grandpa?”

I told him to watch and listen this is what grandpa does when hunting-“kee, kee, yelp, yelp, yelp yelp”

Turkey talk exploded everywhere around us, we stayed, watched and listened for about half hour as the turkeys regrouped giving the kids a lesson in turkey flock reorganization.

My 9 year old grandson begged me to take him hunting with me this fall, he even promised to carry the turkey for me; of course I readily agreed to take them both.

There is no doubt fall turkeys, turkey dogs and kids go together.

Druming & Spitting Turkey

July 1, 2012 by Charlie Leave a Comment

At least they were there

Once upon a time turkey hunters had to stop hunting at noon.

Now all states I hunt in are open to sunset or 20 minutes after. At one time we referred to this as cruel and unusual punishment. 4:30 a.m. to 9 p.m. is a long day. Long gone are those idle afternoons with time to relax and and recharge because I have now discovered gobblers are active all day long so if you want to do the Snoopy Dance, you have to be there.

The Wyoming Black Hills are one of the hardest places I have ever hunted turkey. Late in the afternoon, on the last day of the hunt I heard a half hearted gobble at least a 1000 feet up on a plateau. After gasping in as much of the thin air as possible I set up with my back against a large ponderosa pine.

After 45 minutes of calling to dead silence some kind of liquid started hitting my neck the sun was shining so I assumed the pine was sapping. Never mind a little bit of sap somewhere behind me a turkey’s war drum was starting up. Thinking he was over on my strong side I shifted slightly to get readyas more of that dang sap splashed my neck.

Suddenly there was a thunderous gobble; startled and spinning around a Merriam 5 feet away bugged eyed and frantically wing-beating to increasing that distance.

Was what I thought pine sap really turkey spit?

Mother Turkey Hen is Killed by a Predator

June 26, 2012 by Charlie 6 Comments

This poult is now an orphan

While hiking this morning, I came upon the scene of the heinous crime, the murder of a mother. Mrs. Hen was apparently going about the peaceful business of raising her brood when some lurking predator struck her dead. Her family terrified jumped into a wild flight, off to who knows where. Those poor orphaned poults are now homeless and vulnerable if they are not dead already.

What do you think killed Mrs. Hen?

Hen turkey death scene

Hen turkey killed by predator

Submit your best guess of the murderer in the comments.

BTW, we can hope the dead hen’s poults get adopted by another brood hen. If poults survive the attack, they will seek out a new hen by sound and sight. That is why turkeys are so vocal even this time of year; if you know what to listen for you will hear hens and poults calling out to each other.

Sunrise in the Woods

June 18, 2012 by Charlie Leave a Comment

Sweat is trickling around on my skin with my breath coming in long steady gulps trying to satisfy the hungry lungs burning in my chest. False dawn provides a twilight feel as I rest, listening for the faintest hint of a turkey, rustling feathers or the scratch of feet shifting on the bark of massive oak limbs overhanging my steep hillside trail.

I am here due to a sudden change of plans, last night a good buddy called to report he heard a gobbler while fishing on the Mississippi River yesterday afternoon. He quit turkey hunting a few years ago, a situation I have failed to remedy. Being the kind of fellow who is always looking for a way help someone, he called knowing I would be interested even though that turkey was atop a heavily wooded cliff, which around this area is usually referred to simply as a bluff.
Since there had been no vocal birds anywhere else I’d been hunting; more than willing ears absorbed this hot turkey tip.

At 5:00 am I found myself at the base of a 500-foot bluff thinking just maybe my friend was playing with me, the mental picture of him holding his laughing stomach, face contorted in mirth caused a moment of hesitation every turkey hunter knows when he starts to think about being somewhere else.
There was no turkey talk going on, a beautiful but silent morning and I’m in an area my boots had never before trod. Up the old logging path, hooting and cawing.

At the top, the woods was open, 5:45 not so much as a cluck.
I set up on the most comfortable tree of the season the sun just a red glow peeking over the horizon at my back. Fighting off a bout of tree trunk narcolepsy I made my first calls – quiet yelps, rising to cackles. Nothing. Let out a series of lost yelps and kee-kees. Still and quiet.

About 6:10 red pinkish sunrise light is filtering thru the upper story leaves dancing and flickering a rainbow of colored bars all around throughout the woods; a gorgeous unbeatable morning, certainly worth the hike as my mind strains to absorb it all into the pages of my mind.

There – I know not, from where he came; the most outrageously beautiful strutting turkey I have ever seen; bathed in the glow of those multi-colored beams of sunrise. Irradiance feathers caught and shimmered those colored rays of light changing into little starbursts of color skittling across my glasses at me as he pirouetted on his toes in a manner that would make any ballerina jealous.

As I had many times in the past, I gazed intently over the gun barrel usually a natural thing at a time like this, but it seemed harsh and so out of place this morning. Tomorrow is another day.

Smitty’s Spring Turkey

June 10, 2012 by Charlie 5 Comments

My 2012 Spring Turkey

Written by Smitty, posted by charlie elk.

Slowly sneaking into position I question whether I made a good decision or not. I had been running late that morning so instead of going for a bird that I had roosted the night before, I headed towards a spot that I had seen one earlier in the year.

I am about 40 yards from my planned location when a gobble echoes through the pine swamp. Just as I had feared, the bird is already on the ground. Belly crawling to the field edge was my only hope for getting a shot. Soft yelps come from my dad as he sits back and watches my sneak. Once reaching the edge of the field, I try to stay still with all of the adrenalin flowing through my veins. He is close, maybe 60 yards, but I am still unable to see him. Both my dad and I begin calling frantically trying to work him into a frenzy. It works as the gobbler begins cutting and yelping back at us in between spells of triple and even quadruple gobbles. He refuses to come out into the field and into range. Then it all stops. Not another sound comes from the bird. After about 15 minutes I decide to sneak to the corner of the field to look down the wood-line. Just as I reach the corner, the tom lets loose another gobble.

Using a large pine as cover, we begin another sequence of calls. Again the bird refuses to come closer. The sounds of him digging in the leaves die off and he again slips away. I begin to look around and plan my next move when he appears in the field about 200 yards away. Then two hens come over a knoll in the field and begin taking him away from me. The next 5 minutes entailed near constant gobbling as we cut and yelp at him like mad. Finally he could take it no longer. The tom lets down his tail and begins a full out sprint straight for me. He gobbles a couple times on the run and then drops behind another knoll in the field. All is quite except for the slight ‘click’ of the safety on my Remington 11-87. Many times have I seen a gobbler quiet down as he enters the woods so I knew the crucial time was coming. From behind a blow down at 28 yards he appears. A light squeeze of the trigger and a load of #6 shot drops the bird dead. It took only one hour and fifteen minutes for me to kill my biggest turkey ever but the memories will last a lifetime.

He is double bearded with one measuring 10 1/4in and the other 6in with dual 7/8 inch spurs.

Turkey Call with Pen Barrel

June 4, 2012 by Charlie 1 Comment

Turkeys can be called in with a wide variety of things, even your common ink pen.

Turkeys can be called in with a wide variety of calling implements. From all types of friction calls like box and pot calls to wind calls such as trumpets, wing-bones and yes even a common everyday ink pen. So if you forget your calls as I did one day—–
More accurately I did not forget my calls so to speak; as I was on my way out to hunt something else. There was a group of toms in a field I had permission to hunt. Then I discovered the box call usually kept in glove box was missing, there was the pen. I got out rushed the toms to break em up, only one peeled off a different direction from the rest. I set up in a hurry wearing a blue and black plaid flannel

Smile the Gods did, the gobbler sported three beards

shirt, smeared a bit of dirt on my face, the shotgun was mod choke loaded with #6 Fiochhi pheasant and sometimes as in this case the turkey gods of the hunt smile on you.

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Vic’s First Turkey

September 20, 2011 by Charlie 6 Comments

Turkey Dog Success

Sounds of the fall hunting season; Vic’s paw falls in fallen leaves, alarm putts, large wings clawing for air causing thunderous wing beats as two toms soar over my head from the ridge above. I stop and listen hoping; yes another putt and wings moving in the opposite direction, show time for the caller- that would be me.

Vic trots into sight panting hard. For a 9-month-old pup, he sure puts his heart into the hunt. The ridge is mostly park-like, with acorns strewn about and squirrels scurrying to put up the winter stores. Quite a distraction for my pup but his training focused on turkeys all summer so when he found the toms the squirrels won their reprieve.

We set up against an inviting oak with Vic tired and for the moment content to drink some water and lay on my left side. He barely stirs when I let out the first series of course yelps followed by purrs and angry clucks. The last call from my slate is cut off by the lost tom who is answering with excited yelps and booming gobbles. Game on! My wingbone answers with the bonk sound similar to that of a steel barrel or bucket makes with change in temperature. Don’t ask me why gobblers come to this sound no one has explained it to me why nor have I figured it out, it just works and this tom is no exception, he is on his way coming in quick. Vic goes into his rigid vizsla point directly at the incoming turkey while lying beside me. This is his first real setup I hope he holds long enough for the shot. His leash begins to pull under my rear; my hand touches his collar to reassure him all is well. His excitement travels up my arm like electric bugs. The turkey is 20 yards juking its head to the beat of some music only he knows. The pressure is on, don’t whiff the shot its Vic’s first.

There is comic style of movement at the base of this oak. The leash is sliding free, the shotgun is in motion my left hand has gripped the forearm. One eye is on Vic as he rises for a closer view the experienced turkey realizes his mistake as he hits full escape stride, Vic’s leash is free of me as he coils for the spring, I see he is in the safe zone in my peripheral as the bead appears under the beak, my finger compresses the trigger rolling the turkey into a ball of feathers. Vic at half way stops abruptly snapping his head at me and back at the now still turkey it is as if his eyes are saying “what the heck! That never happened in practice” and then he is on the bird relishing the pungent smell of fresh turkey.

Vic admiring his first wild turkey and it is a nice gobbler

32.5 Pound Turkey

July 31, 2011 by Charlie 1 Comment

As I hoisted the freshly killed turkey, I thought he was unusually heavy, and upon arrival at the shed, I hung him on the scale and to my amazement he weighed 32.5 lb. Must be seeing things, yelled for the wife to double check and she says yes 32.5 lbs.
Thinking this might be the new state record I start considering what to do to get folks to believe me. First, stop – the registration station. Their scale reads 27.5 lbs. What the heck; where did the 5 lbs. Go? Oh well, their scale must be off – my friend runs the local grocery, and he has a certified scale back in the meat department.

Only in a small town, WI can you carry a dead turkey over your shoulder, down the aisle of a grocery store, to the scale in the back and no one raises so much as an eyebrow.
On the way down the aisle the gobbler does not seem as hefty as he did at first, but then adrenaline could be the cause of that perception.
Certified scales don’t lie– he is 25.3 lbs!

Back in my pole shed, I’m staring at the turkey hanging from my scale it now reads 25.1 lbs. What the heck?

It was pouring buckets when I shot this turkey, so his feathers were full of water. Have you ever wondered how much water a gobbler’s feathers could hold? This one had 7.4 lbs of water.
No real concern, this is one beautiful bird, but so much for my brush with a state record bird.

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