I found myself in an unusual situation. I had filled my deer tag before the wife and hunting partner. So after a week of dropping them off and sleeping in the truck I found myself in even a more unusual situation...I had slept about all I could! The area they were hunting was very small and very wide open. An extra body was not going to be of much help so I needed to just let them be and let them hunt on their own. And camp was too far away. So I really needed to be close enough for radio contact just in case. So what is a guy suppose to do to keep himself busy after tagging out?
Well sitting around camp one night Larry says, "Early fall turkey season is open!" I respond that it is too bad I never put in for a fall turkey permit. To which Larry responded, "It's a general season around here, I think" OK so who has a copy of the regulations. I left mine at home. Wife didn't bring any, Larry didn't bring any. His wife didn't bring any. Guess I better go to the store during lunch the next day and get some regs and ask someone who really knows. I know, I know who doesn't read the regulations? Well, we almost never hunt this far east and I'm really not much of a turkey hunter. I knew the deer regulations by heart, but never once even thought about turkey.
So the next day at lunch I find myself at the Middle of Nowhere corner Grocery/Restaurant/Sporting Goods/Karaoke Bar. I ask the chef/proprietor/clerk/sporting goods specialist what he knows about the early fall turkey season. "Not many coming in yet", he says. "But, if you want to kill the best tasting wild turkey of your life the hens around here are beyond compare. Go to my 30 page website and I have all the best recipes." So I take out my license and tell him I need to get a tag. "Just one!", he exclaims loudly. "You can take three right now in this unit. But you can only get one tom. Myself I'd take three hens. Your taste buds will love you for it." I tell the man that while I don't doubt his knowledge I had better look at the regulations first. Sure enough he is right! Being sure I am completely wasting my money I go ahead and buy tag 3, 4 & 5, take a copy of the regs, some peperoni sticks, a half gallon of milk and a cranberry/grape juice.
So two o'clock I drop the wife off at the spot she hikes up into the high area to find some bucks to harass. I then drive down to some lower areas where I had seen some turkey sign earlier in the season. Being extra careful not to go outside of radio contact range....
Now I should probably take a moment to clarify one thing here. Most turkey hunters hate me. While I have been successful calling turkey I have never found the thrill involved with it. I much prefer to hone my spot and stalk skills and sneak up on them. My turkey calling friends get completely bent out of shape when I tell them that is how I enjoy hunting turkey. But hey, we all walk to the beat of a different drum. And my drum sounds a lot more like a sneaky little F*&ker than a turkey call.Fifteen minutes after leaving the truck I see a few hens and polts working their way toward some water. I watch as they go over a small rise. I then run as best a fat man can until in a position to peak over the rise. Still too far away this goes on time and time again until I get about 50 yards away. This will be my last chance as there are no more rises to hide my approach for a couple hundred yards. So I range the biggest hen at 55 yards walking way from me. I set my slide for 60 and draw. As the pin settles in the middle of her back I pop a little air between my lips. It works perfect and they all stop. A little too well as she stops short of 60 yards and my arrow chops her head off. Not bad when you miss your spot by eight inches on a turkey and still get an instant kill. One down two more to go!
I get back to the truck with my bird, eat a few celebratory Snickers, have a soda and sit in my seat ready to take another nap. An hour goes by and I just can not find my usual lasting nap time. So I grab the bow and start still hunting down a short little creek bed. In no time at all I can hear soft puts coming from the thicker brush. Little by little I inch forward until I catch movement. I scan the area for a shooting lane, but dang this stuff is thick. I'm going to need to crawl around and come in from the other side. They are sure to catch my movement, but heck it's for practice right? I'm just about into position when a bird I did not see flies out of a tree almost right above my head. After I recover from almost pooping myself I get a range on this bird at 41 yards. Set my slider for 40, put it dead center on her head and touch it loose. No chopped off head this time, but another instant turkey death and more hen meat in the cooler! Two hours of hunting and two dead birds. Starting to remind me of opening day of the spring season at Bearpaw
About the time I get back to the truck I get the call that the wind is too strong up top and the wife is calling it quits for the evening. I snap a few quick pictures and rush up to pick her up at the trailhead.
The next morning the wind has died down and I once again drop the wife off at the trailhead so she can work the high area for bucks. I drive down to the edge of some wheat and start walking the main road listening for birds. The first tom I've seen runs across the road about 100 yards ahead of me. We play cat and mouse for about a half hour until I finally have him at 18 yards. I'm holding on his head just waiting for a clear shot. When it arrives I once again pop some air through my lips and he stops. Arrow is gone and he takes to flight. I MISSED AN 18 YARD SHOT!!! What a way to ruin my perfect season. DAGNABIT
Head held low in shame I make the long walk back to the truck and take my rightful place in my nap seat. After texting MLBowhunting of my failure I fall asleep awaking only after getting the call to go pick up the wife.
On our way to her secondary morning hunt spot we spot a few more young birds working some low trees. After a couple hundred yards they finally catch my approach and bug out. Man how fast you go from king of the woods to jester of your failures.
We drive forward toward her next deer spot and we spot those birds again. I immediately stop the truck and get into position as they work from down to my right uphill to my left. At 55 yards the biggest bird, a jake, stops just long enough to give me a broadside shot. No missing this time as the arrow is absolutely dead center perfect! The bird flops a couple times and dies about two feet from where my arrow lies in the dirt. I look back at the wife and realize she was able to see the whole thing play out. She says, "This fall turkey thing is pretty easy I take it?" I'd never hunted fall turkey before, but yeah I guess it is
But it sure is a fun way to pass the time while the others in camp get to chase the big boys!
