I absolutely love turkey hunting. It was the first hunt I ever tried, and was the hunt that got me hooked on hunting. Each year, I usually bag my turkey on the first day, so this year, I expected nothing less.
Two weeks before the season started, turkeys showed up in our horse pasture daily. We could sit on the back deck and listen to the gobbles in the woods. A slam of a car door and the bark of a dog would send gobbles throughout the woods.
Logitech bluetooth speaker
One of many turkey calling apps for phones
The Friday before open season, I went down to my closest treestand. I brought along a Bluetooth speaker and hung it in a nearby tree with the volume cranked. The speaker amplified my turkey calls I had downloaded on my phone. I climbed into my treestand and opened up the turkey call application. A push of the “Turkey Cackle 1” and I had an answer. Gobbles nearby on my left.
I played it again. Another response on my right!
Before I knew it, I had three jakes and a hen approaching on my right. The hen was actually chasing after the three jakes to keep up.
They were confused. Where is that hen? The turkeys walked by and once out of sight, I gave another call. They answered, came back and circled around me. The leading jake is almost fully mature, and he began to do his strut dance followed by a gobble. They weren’t alarmed since they continued to scratch and peck the ground as they moved.
As the turkeys circled me, they still didn’t know I was in the treestand. Off to my right a second gobbler also answered my call. I was having a blast!
Finally the two groups of birds found each other, and I no longer mattered. They all headed away from me. Silence. Once they were gone, I climbed out my treestand and went back to the house.
Sunday, the day before the season opened, I headed back to my treestand. I used my same method of calling with the Bluetooth, but got no response. I covered a large amount of ground trying to call in a turkey while also checking my two game cameras. Just when I was about to give up, I got a response on the far end of the woods. They were still in the area! I quickly turned around and walked away.
Opening day and it was pouring. Pouring and my hunting partner was in no mood to venture out into it. By 2 p.m., the rain seemed to stop until we actually stepped out of the house. It was just a few intermittent showers to keep us moving, but listening for gobbles was not easy.
We tried calling. No answers. We made a big circle and got to where I heard turkeys the day before. They weren’t responding to the mouth call John was using, so he took out the slate call and gave a try.
Instantly we had cackling, but no gobbling. We quickly set up the decoys and waited. No more replies, no responses and no gobbling. Did they see us? Did we scare them off? Did they hear us? Perhaps I need to bring my Bluetooth next time…
Obviously they didn’t fall for our attempts to call them in.
We never heard any more turkeys the remainder of the hunt.
Silence. Nothing but silence. Let’s hope a couple days of rest and rain and they’ll come back and be ready for some gobbles. I have more tricks up my sleeve, so I’m not ready to throw in the towel just yet.
Few years back when I went turkey hunting with John and my oldest son, Zack.
On the last day of muzzleloader season, expanded archery would also come to an end. I convinced John to go expanded hunting with me since I was seeing way more deer in the city than he was muzzleloader hunting, and at least in expanded archery, we each had a permit to shoot either a buck or a doe.
Instead of going where we had been going, John decided to take me to a spot he’s hunted for years in Oakland. He scouted it in advance and prepared two separate blinds out of brush for us. The first morning we hunted together, I followed him into the spot and took my place behind my blind…well, after he came back and led me to where it was. I had never been that way and even though he said, “it’s right there,” I went too far left and missed his trail entirely. As I stood in the dark trying to find my way, a figure in the dark walked by me…it was him. The wind was howling and it got cold. I didn’t think the wind was to our advantage, and I was ready to leave when my teeth started chattering. We didn’t see anything, but sign was abundant so I wasn’t too discouraged about coming back.
We may not have seen any deer, but we scored some fall oyster mushrooms, which are probably the best mushrooms we’ve eaten besides our chanterelles. Yum!
The following night, I couldn’t hunt, but John went. He decided to sit further in from our original spot, and although he didn’t see them, he heard two bucks fighting as their antlers clashed just before dark.
So the following weekend, we came in from a different way and took up new spots on the other side of the mountain. That morning before daylight, we hiked that tall, steep mountain. It was so steep and going was slow on the slippery snow. I thought I’d die trying to pace my breath before we got to the top only to sweat as soon as I made it to the top. Thank goodness I have good layers to wick away the moisture!
Eventually we made it into our spot, which was filled with acorns from all the oak trees in the area. The deer had been feeding here, so it would just a matter of timing before we’d see a deer. John had picked out a really nice spot for me right at the tip of a fallen-over hemlock tree. It made great cover right on the ridge of a valley. I could see all over the other side and all around me. Deer sign everywhere! All I had to do was sit still.
It wasn’t long after daylight when I heard a deer. At first I thought the deer was behind me. I realized I was also hearing a squirrel at the same time I was hearing the deer…out in front of me. John was sitting off to my right about 40 yards. I thought sure he’d see this deer. It made its way from the right to left slowly walking down the bank at a diagonal. It went out of sight when it reached the bottom of the valley because a big blown down poplar tree’s root ball on my side of the bank blocked my view. As I waited, I finally saw the right ear of the deer. She was coming right up in front of me at about 20 yards. I drew my bow and held it as I waited for her to step out. With the deer fully in sight, I lined up my peep sight with the knock on my bow. I realized the deer was looking right at me!
I released the arrow, and watched it hit the deer where I thought was just behind the left shoulder. The deer took off. I felt it was a good shot. However, the arrow did not light up when it hit as it did with my first deer. The deer bound to my left, then turned and headed down the hill, and then back up the other side where it stopped right at the top. I could hear the leaves rustling and thought it had gone down, but I couldn’t see clearly where it had gone. I saw more deer off in the distant. The hardest part about bow hunting is trying to capture what’s happening so you can remember everything. It’s much harder when there’s a bow in your hand, and everything happens so fast!
I texted John when he didn’t text me right away. I thought, hadn’t he seen the deer? I thought for sure he saw the whole thing go down.
Me: Schwack! (I was feeling pretty proud about now!)
Me: Didn’t you see the deer?
John: No, did you shoot?
Me: Yes, I hit it.
Me: I think anyways. (beginning to second guess my shot)
I could hear John coming my way, and at the same time, I saw the deer off in the distant coming our way. I couldn’t get John’s attention before the deer realized he was there and bound away. He was pretty disappointed he hadn’t seen the other deer, but there was a large tree that blocked the deer from his view. He had heard it but couldn’t see it. I chuckled when he said he couldn’t believe that I had once again taken a shot at a deer. After all, this was only my first season of bow hunting, and this shot made three deer I had taken a shot at. Apparently it’s not normally like this?
We talked about where the deer was standing, where the deer was shot, which way the deer went…and all before we even took a step away from my tree. John found the spot where I had hit the deer and where it ran. He found the spot where the arrow was broken off and laying on the ground in a bunch of spattered blood. The arrow had a lot of fat on the front of the arrow. There was no sign of a gut shot, so where was this deer?!
We followed blood sign, first tiny specks, then a whole bunch down over the valley and back up over the other side. Then the blood and trail seemed to disappear. No blood anywhere. Not even a speck. Are you kidding me?! I felt sick. We spent almost an hour trying to find where the trail went cold. We eventually found where the deer had ran and eventually we found a minute, tiny speck every once in a while that would keep us moving.
We really thought eventually this deer would lie down and bleed. Our only explanation was that either the arrow passed through the deer and the fletching end of the arrow was still in the deer and possibly plugging the wound, or I hit lower than I thought, and had only caused a superficial wound to the deer. But we made every effort to keep tracking as long as we could. I didn’t want to feed the coyotes.
After about two hours and quite a distance, we followed the deer’s tracks out into a road. On the other side, we spotted between 8 and 10 deer all in a group with one very big deer chasing around…a buck! John had left his bow back at my tree. I gave him my bow to take a shot. I hid behind a tree and gave a bleat on the doe call. The buck started running our way. Just as John drew, a doe on our right busted us, and every one of those deer turned and scattered in every direction.
Now we were discouraged. There was no way to tell which way the deer I had wounded ran if it wasn’t bleeding. We spent a while longer and I finally resolved that we wouldn’t find the deer. I was very disappointed. I never, ever thought I’d lose a deer. I really thought it was a good shot. What would people think? I pride myself on being a good shot and making a quick, clean kill. I know hunters who use both rifle and bow and have lost deer. I understand that it can happen. Nothing is a given, but it still feels awful. So I’ve decided that if I have anything to do with it, this will be my last lost deer.
I’m not going to get stuck in the woulda-shoulda-coulda trap. What I will do is practice. Practice more. Practice until I shoot that spot the size of a quarter. I’ve always hit, but never that tight of a grouping…but next season I will. Next season, there will be no question. I will learn to be more patient, not rush a shot, and have more faith in myself. I will use this failure to learn from, and not stop me from doing what I love to do. I will not let the possibility of failure stop me. I will make sure that I am prepared so that my possibility of failure is minimal. It still won’t be a given for success, but I can make sure that I’ve done everything I can do to make it is as failure-proof as it can be.
When you head out into the woods, don’t let the possibility of failure stop you from trying new things. Don’t let previous failures stop you from trying again.
Remember: There’s an adventure that awaits. Be prepared and your chances of success will follow.
If you can archery hunt, then you can hunt expanded archery, which is simply hunting within city limits designated as Expanded Archery zones. It requires an additional permit that you can buy online. What’s great about expanded archery is that you can tag deer in non-expanded archery zones, then you can buy a permit for an anterless deer permit, or a permit that allows for either antlered or anterless deer, and continue to bow hunt the remainder of the season. So you really can get more than one deer a year! Since I got my doe in a rifle zone even though I got it with my bow, I am considered “tagged out”. I didn’t get nearly enough time in the stand, so I figured I’d give this city hunting a try. I won’t get into the bullshit regulations that local municipalities try to enforce, which in my opinion defeats the purpose of making the area an Expanded Archery zone in the first place. Hubby has had landowner permission for years. That should cover it.
John has been hunting expanded archery for over ten years, so he has the information on where to hunt. I was never keen on sitting in the city with the thinking I wouldn’t be able to hear anything. I’ve been so used to having minimal traffic noises that I just couldn’t imagine it being a positive experience. Au contraire mon ami!
John showed me where he hunted, and we set up a blind with fallen boughs and branches near a fallen tree. I went out the first morning expecting not to see anything. Not only did I get to see the sun rise, but also, I got to see four does. Unfortunately I had made a big circle to get to my blind and as soon as those deer hit my travel path on the knoll, they followed it right away from me. But I saw deer!
I couldn’t go out every morning because it’s just too far into town, then back home in time for me to get ready for work…and that damned time change… really put a wrench in my hunting schedule.
A few days later I sat again. I heard a buck grunt, but I jumped it. Two days later, I got in very early. This particular parcel gets lit up by city lights so even when it’s pitch black out, I have a hard time getting in there before it feels light. I sat myself closer to where the four does had traveled.
I pitched my chair behind four birches and was facing towards them which is also in the direction of their travel. I gave a blow on my buck grunt. In a matter of seconds I had deer practically running at me…from behind. I made a 180 degree swivel in my chair and readied my bow. Only problem was that the front doe saw me even though it was barely light. She made an immediate 180 degree turn and bolted. I tried to get a shot on the second one, but before I could line up my peep sight, she too bound away. I listened as their walking around in the leaves for quite some time just out of sight of me. They never blew their warnings, but they never came back either. An exciting morning for sure! Now if only I could face the right way when they come in.
In an attempt to change things up, we tried another spot “at the top of the hill”. I sat under an ash tree that was directly beside the biggest buck rub I had ever seen. In fact, there were several buck rubs in a nice line that I could see from my chair.
Sitting there, I heard a noise to my right. As I turned my head, I got a glimpse of the hind end of a deer. She was on a run. She stopped when she went to pass the small sapling I had sprayed with doe urine. With her body aligned with a larger tree, all I could see at first was where her belly stuck out on each side of the tree until she moved closer…at about 15 feet away, I drew my bow to ready a shot. I peaked around the the tree….the tree between her and I. Just as I peaked, so did she. We looked at each other. I tried not to blink. She wasn’t fooled and in a flash, she turned on her heels and bound away flashing her white tail my way. Again, I saw a deer.
Now I know what you’re thinking….she can’t hunt for crap…well keep in mind, I’m still a newbie at this bow hunting thing…and it’s not just about getting a deer. However, I’ve seen way more deer this year than I’ve seen during rifle hunting, so I’m happy. I’ve had some great experiences seeing other wildlife too. I’m enjoying my time in the woods and I’ve discovered I can block out those noises that I dreaded and really concentrate on hunting. I can safely say city hunting is just as exciting as “regular hunting”.
We’ve moved to another spot in the zone, so perhaps my luck will hold out and I’ll not only see a deer, but I’ll actually take a shot at one.
I’m going to make this a Throw Back Tuesday in an attempt to give everyone a break from the politics. I voted early, and I’m onto other things. One thing I’m not doing is deer hunting because a got a deer during archery season, and that makes me officially tagged out. I’m really missing my deer hunt morning sunrises and nature time so I’m sharing the story of my first deer hunt.
WAY back on the first year I hunted, I had never really hunted deer. I had gone along and sat for a while and watched mice, squirrels and birds, but never deer. I didn’t know how to deer hunt, but after getting my turkey, I figured I’d give it a try. I didn’t own any camouflage and or hunting clothing for the cold sits, so my yellow L.L.Bean winter jacket would have to suffice. I bought a pair of L.L.Bean pack boots at the company sale so I had would have warm feet. No fancy pants; just lots of pajama bottoms and layers. I would use John’s .44 Marlin lever action rifle, which I didn’t like because the safety is on the hammer. Yes, my thumb has slipped more than once trying to put the safety on and firing it into the ground, so John had to load it for me.
John and I bought our first ever buddy stand, a stand made for two people, and put it up on a landowner’s woodlot where we got permission to hunt. It was perfect; it hid among the boughs of a giant hemlock and over looked an entire valley of oak and beech trees. This would be my main place to hunt, which would be mostly Saturdays.
Week one: John had made a second spot right off the main road by our house. He had found lots of deer sign so he planned to set me up in a ladder stand to sit by myself, and he would sit at a distance away. The first morning was probably one of the stillest mornings I’ve ever experienced. It was star-filled, cold and not an ounce of wind was blowing. As I got out of the truck, I took a deep breath, and from somewhere in the truck, a fuzzy sucked up my nose. My eyes instantly watered as I tried not to sneeze. I thought I’d explode, and then it all let out. Ahhhbwhzzzzzzzzz! I echoed through all of the area. I made the most awful noise that was so much louder than if I had simply sneezed. John looked at me in total disbelief. What to heck was I doing? He was annoyed, but never said a word. I felt like I ruined the hunt before we even got out of the truck. He led me to my stand and left me there. I was surprised when he actually came to get me. To this day, I’ve never lived down that morning.
Week two: We headed in to the giant hemlock. That morning, we jumped a deer on the way in. It was dark so we had to use our flashlights. We hung our buck lure and headed up the tree. Putting my flashlight in my pocket, I went first and then John brought me my gun. I got into the stand and took my spot. I had a menagerie of stuff in my pockets: neck warmer, extra hat, thick orange mittens so my hands wouldn’t freeze… and my flashlight. As I got settled, I pulled the mittens out of my pockets. I didn’t realize I had put my flashlight in “that” pocket. As if in slow motion, my flashlight flew out of my pocket and through the air hitting nearly every rung of the ladder on the way down to the ground, while also coming on and having light shine everywhere. There was dead silence from below. John climbed into the stand and handed me my flashlight, and without a word we sat for deer. To this day, I’ve never lived down that morning.
Week three: The wind was blowing. It was cold, and the sun was in and out of clouds. We found ourselves chuckling, laughing and sharing jokes in whispers. It was nice having John next to me; he was warm. We’d see who could sit still the longest, whose stomach would growl first from the morning coffee, and we made a bet who would see the first deer. We even made a plan that whoever saw the deer, got to shoot it.
I had never seen a deer in the woods. I sat there as the sun rose. Eventually it was daylight and the wind just blew more. I wouldn’t be able to listen; this would be about spotting a deer in a sea of brown leaves. I had been watching this “road” down the woods on my left just imagining what it would be like to see a deer. As I scanned the woods for movement as I had for several hours, I couldn’t believe my eyes. There coming up that “road” was a deer. Even better…a buck! I had to shoot a buck since I never applied for a doe tag. I whispered to John, “Deer! It’s a buck!” I immediately took of my gloves and got my gun ready. John couldn’t see it and was trying frantically to see what I was looking at.
“You going to shoot it? Where is it?!”, he asked as he leaned my way bobbing back and forth.
“Yeah!”, I said, as I took aim through the scope. The deer, about 30 yards away, stopped and turned to his right, giving me the perfect target behind his left shoulder. With one shot, I hit the deer through his lungs and heart. He didn’t even take a step and fell to the ground.
“You hit it!”, yelled John. He couldn’t believe that I didn’t get all shaky and nervous with my first deer…and that I actually hit the deer. He was more excited than me!
I thanked the buck for his life and feeding my family, then helped John field dress it, and together we dragged him out by the antlers. He ended up being a 5 point buck weighing about 140 pounds.(sorry no pics- they’re buried somewhere in my piles of pre-digital
To this day, we still joke that he was trying to push me out of the stand so he could shoot the deer, and I’ve never lived down my cool head when it comes to shooting, and that makes me very proud!
I’m so glad John had the patience to put up with my mistakes so that my love of hunting has grown. It’s meant so many more memories for us to share together, and memories to share with our family. If you are embarking out on your first hunting adventures, know you’ll make mistakes, and if you’re taking someone new, be patient. Mistakes are part of learning.
Good luck in all your hunts, and remember to wear your safety harness in the stands.
One of the most full-filling times of turkey hunting is when you see your children get the chance to experience what you get to do. Describing a turkey hunting story can give the listener a play by play, but in reality there is nothing like being there hearing a gobble, smelling the spring air, and the feeling the excitement of the turkey approaching your decoy.
My son Zack and I hunted turkey together, but he was already a teenager and back then they didn’t have a youth day. We had a few successful hunts that went pretty much according to “the plan” we made. I’m sure many of you have seen this photo on my Facebook page. It’s one of my favorites and one of those hunts I’ll never forget, not because of the birds we got, but the whole experience brings a smile to my face whenever we talk about it.
By the time my youngest son was old enough to hunt, there was a spring turkey youth day established, and there was nothing more exciting than planning a day of turkey hunting. I think I was actually more excited than he or John was. John and I bought Tyler all the camouflage and equipment necessary. We scouted. We practiced. We coached. If all went according to “the plan”, then he would be successful. In my mind, we would be successful as parents~Tyler would be hooked on hunting after this hunt.
“If I Could Turn Back Time” still sings through my head when I think of this hunt.
Tyler is not particularly a morning person, i.e. he doesn’t like to get up in the morning, especially early, early mornings to hunt or fish. By the time we headed out to the spot in Norridgewock, we were running late, to which I duly noted several times on our way to the spot. The sun was already rising, so we’d have to hurry. On our hike into the field, we had to cross an old stream that was frankly raging from the spring rains. Not only was it about shin deep, it was moving fast from right to left. I was carrying my little flip cell phone in my left hunting pants pocket along with a real camera. Unlike today’s phone, in those days, my camera had more megapixels than my phone camera so my pockets were full. I also was carrying my shotgun on my left shoulder as I usually do.
As we made our way down the road, we approached the stream. It was a lot harder crossing at barely daylight than in the middle of a sunny day. I was doing well trying to cross. The water was rushing fast and just about the time I reached the other side and reached for John’s hand, I stepped on a slippery rock and down I went. Oh yes, I forgot to mention the rocks were slick. In a second, I was underwater. My right hand caught my fall; however the entire right side of my body was soaking cold and dripping wet. I said a few curse words about the time John pulled me out of the water. Mood ruined and I was fully aware how cold spring water can be. John was irritated. Tyler was upset, and I was mad at myself for falling, but in no way was I about to let this ruin our time. So off we went to find us some turkeys.
We crossed into two fields, got set up and began calling. John was a short distance away and I took up position right behind Tyler. I wanted to coach him as the turkeys came over over the knoll…as it turns out so did his dad. John was calling. Turkeys were gobbling. Soon two jakes came up over the knoll and headed right for Tyler’s decoy. Tyler was using his Rossi 20 guage convertible gun. I didn’t think it had that much shooting distance so I was telling him to “Wait”, “Wait”, “Wait”…until they were closer. Meanwhile, John was whispering, “Shoot”, “Shoot”, “Shoot it!”….Well, the turkeys heard us too, and Tyler was so confused by everything, that when he finally shot, he shot right over their heads. Birds flew. Feathers flew, but no birds were down. Tyler had missed them entirely. Now who’s to say whether or not he would have missed even if we weren’t both instructing him, but it didn’t matter right then.
Now you can only imagine his disappointment. He was pretty upset with both of us. We learned our lesson that day. We should have just let him do it, and have only one person be the guide. We had put too much pressure on this kid without even realizing it. We should have spent more time enjoying the experience instead of concentrating on a successful outcome. Tyler’s not really interested in hunting turkeys, or at least not like I had hoped. I will always wonder if this type of hunting experience hadn’t happened if things would be different. Perhaps he’d want to hunt more with us…perhaps not. I’ll never know.
So when you head out to take a kid hunting, don’t do what we did. Don’t put so much pressure on his or her being successful so that if things don’t go according to “the plan”, the world won’t stop. Take the time to enjoy the experience and the time you get to spend together. Regardless of the outcome, your son or daughter will remember these special times more than the one time they got a turkey.
P.S. As luck would have it, my cell phone, camera and gun escaped the water that day and several ticks were removed from our clothes, and Tyler has since forgiven us.
Maine’s turkey hunting season will begin on May 1st this year. Turkey hunting has a special place in my heart. It’s the hunt that got me into hunting. It’s the hunt where my oldest son got to see his mom shoot a turkey for the first time. It’s the hunt where my oldest son and I shared a hunt together and each shot a turkey at the same time. It’s the hunt that started it all. But what’s most special is that this is a hunt that John and I continue to do together to this day.
Let’s go back to 2002. Maine was holding a lottery drawing for turkey hunting. John asked me if I would put my name in for a permit. I said “sure, but if I get a permit, I get to decide if I’ll shoot it.” Back then you had a sub-permittee who could also shoot if the permit holder didn’t.
Sure enough, I was the only family member drawn for the permit! Even better, I was picked for season A, which meant the first week of the hunt. So the real test came when I had to fire the shotgun. If I could shoot it, I would shoot the turkey; if not, then John would get the honors. Although he never let on, I’m sure John was somewhat disappointed (although he denies it to this day) when I shot the 12 gauge and hit the milk jug…and I was still standing afterward. I would be hunting for turkey!
John and I started scouting for turkeys by driving around Albion since that’s where we always saw them. Unlike now, turkeys weren’t throughout Maine and were found primarily near big silage piles on big cattle farms. We managed to get permission from several places but some of the other farms were pretty free about giving permission to everyone who asked, so the chances of hunter interference was pretty certain. We got sole permission at this farm where a monster tom strutted regularly for the hens on the farm. This farm required us to drive into a gravel pit, then hike up the hill to the other high side of the pasture and set up for the hunt. It was a physically demanding climb without my gun in tote. I knew that was going to be my biggest obstacle once I would be carrying all of my hunting gear.
We signed up for turkey school through Inland Fisheries and Wildlife which was a lot of fun. We were clueless about turkey hunting. No orange required, but don’t wear blue, red or white either…and all kinds of other do and don’t rules meant to keep hunters safe. We also learned about turkey poop which I’ll never forget. Toms and jakes poop “J” shaped and hens poop ice cream cone shaped poops. This really is important when scouting for turkey!
I bought my first set of camouflage clothing including a hat, a mask and gloves. I even bought John some camo since we didn’t have much, and I’ve never lived down that camo became ‘important’ only after I started hunting. Okay, I admit it…I enjoy buying camo (not pink either) especially when I buy it for me…lol. Everything was the new camo pattern, but everything was also cotton; I had a lot to learn about hunting clothes. We bought turkey box calls, locator calls, turkey shot ammo, turkey vests, seats, turkey decoys, slates…we were prepared. All we needed was a turkey.
We set up the blind under a bunch of hemlocks that hung over a fence line the weekend before the first day of the big hunt. We placed a big camo drape in front with brush concealing our bodies. We had perfect cover. The first day of the season was almost at the end of the April so the field was not only free of snow, but also greening up.
The Sunday night before opening day, we were hit with a freak spring snowstorm. I mean it snowed about five or six inches. We had not counted on needing winter clothes, or rain coats since the temps were supposed to rise into the 50’s later that day. Any way we looked at it, it was going to be a gross wet mess. But we threw together some rain ponchos, rain pants and off we went. The snow didn’t help hide us as we crossed the field, but we were there before daylight and that’s all that mattered. John strategically placed our one hen decoy out about 20 yards, the distance for a great shot.
As soon as the sky began to lighten and daylight broke, John began to work his magic on the slate call. He purred, and did the fly down with his hat just like we learned. The then slowly added clucks and yelps. Turkeys gobbled! John began purring and calling on that slate call and just like text book, out of nowhere, that huge tom came barreling over the hill on a dead run headed right for our decoy. He was so fat that he waddled from side to side as he ran. Once he got to the decoy, he stopped, plumped himself up and began strutting. John purred. He dropped his feathers, stuck out his neck and let a gobble and I shot. The hunt was over in about five minutes. We barely made it past legal hunting time, but we had a turkey. A beautiful wet turkey. By the time we retrieved him, his feathers were soaked from the flapping of his wings before he died.
John carried my turkey out because I knew when I held it that I’d never make it to the truck. He still carries my birds…two last year! We knew he was big. My turkey topped the scales at 24.5 pounds! The state record was just over 25 pounds at the time. Unfortunately, I never had the man at the tagging station certify my weight and records are only kept for 10 years, so I never got my Maine Wild Turkey Club patch. It’s a club for all turkeys over 20 pounds. I mounted his beautiful tail and 9-7/8 inch beard. His spurs were 7/8″ long but I did not keep them.
Within five minutes of returning to the truck we were met by two game wardens. They knew of this big bird and they heard me shoot. It was an interesting conversation because they assumed it was John who shot the turkey and kept directing questions to him. When John told them I shot the turkey their eyes showed the surprise, and then came the questions. I really did shoot that turkey Mr. Game Wardens! My how things have changed since then! I’m glad to see more women are out there so that I’m no longer the exception to the rule.
We baked Mr. Turkey but it wasn’t all that good; he was pretty dry. Unlike a store bought turkey, wild turkey has a much deeper and narrower breast so laying him on his back to roast was near impossible. We’ve since adopted other ways to prepare wild turkey; my favorite is just putting it in a stew with lots of gravy.
This girl still holds the family record for the biggest turkey, but I haven’t shot one with a bow. Perhaps 2016 will be the year! I hope no matter who you are, that you’ll get out and try turkey hunting. Don’t forget to bring a wife, husband, daughter, son, or a friend. Even if you don’t get a turkey, watching the sun rise above the horizon on a brisk spring morning, and watching the world awaken before your eyes, is enough to get you hooked.