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Editor’s note: This column was written before the end of the spring turkey season.
The COVID-19 stay-at-home scare started just as the spring turkey season opened. What a terrible thing! But Governor Greg Abbott also said, “Get outside. Walk. Hike. Go fishing. Just don’t do it in groups.” So I took him at his word and have been doing lots of hunting and fishing.
But I have had to make a few adjustments. One of my turkey hunting friends is paranoid and in his “house prison.” One of my fishing pals is afraid of me. Social distancing. He won’t get in the boat with me or any of his fishing friends. He is paralyzed with fear.
But I can’t think of a safer place to be than on the river, bay or in a big turkey woods.
Early in the season, I was hunting on a big ranch on the Blanco River near Wimberley. My wife, Beth, rode to the ranch with me but stayed in the truck. We saw a big gobbler run into the woods away from the protein feeder. I grabbed my gun and call, pushed into the woods parallel to the gobbler’s direction, and sat down on a faint little lane. I began to make soft yelps on the call. No response. I called again. No response again.
“Maybe he’s giving me the silent treatment. Think I’ll just sit here a minute longer,” I thought.
Suddenly, a turkey stepped into the lane about 40 steps away. It obviously wasn’t the big gobbler that we had seen but I could barely make out the tiny beginning of a beard.
“A young Jake. Awesome eating.” I whispered under my breath. He is now in my freezer.
My neighbor, Tom Ray, and I traveled in the very early hours to my turkey lease near Panna Maria later in the week. After parking the truck in the pre-dawn darkness, we walked down a pipeline. I make a few squeaks on a crow call and a gobbler on the roost answered immediately. One problem. He was across the fence on the adjoining ranch. Maybe we could call him onto the pipeline. We watched him and several hens fly down from a thick tree line into a big open field.
That was problem No. 2. He was with hens. Taking a gobbler away from his harem is very difficult, if not impossible.
As he and his hens slowly fed across the field, we could see that he was an exceptional bird — like huge with a long beard. When he was about 100 yards out, Tom whispered, “Can you shoot them with a deer rifle?”
“Yes, but it’s not great hunter ethics. And if you hit the body, all you will have left will be two wings and drumsticks,” I answered. I have hunted that big bird twice now with the same results. I can’t get him to leave the neighbor’s field or his hens.
I hunted a ranch in Bastrop County with my friend, Randy McReynolds. We encountered the same problem. A big gobbler was in the center of a huge hay field with two hens. We couldn’t entice him away from his lovers.
Early one week my son, Tim, and I hunter the same Blanco River ranch where I killed the Jake. We heard a gobbler answer the call far in the distance. We moved in quickly and called again. He answered again. We were closer. We did this four times until we were very close. He was not moving to us. His plan was to bring the hens to him with his gobblers.
Finally, Tim slipped through some brush for a closer look. He spotted the gobbler with two hens. Almost close enough for a shot but he needed to be about 10 yards closer. But as he closed in, one of the hens saw him and put out the alarm putt. Close but no cigar. Another point on the scoreboard for the turkeys (they often win).
“Let’s come back Friday,” I said. “I have a different plan.”
On Friday, Tim, my granddaughter, Demaris, who is home from West Florida University because of COVID-19 rules, and I arrived at the ranch very early.
“Let’s drive a jeep road until we get behind the gobbler,” I suggested. “If we get one to answer from the roost, let’s move in as close as possible.”
When I called, at least four gobblers began to sound off. Wow! It was the mother lode. We zeroed in on two birds that were probably roosting in the same tree. We would move about 100 yards and call. Closer now. And again, closer yet. Then we heard two enemies — hens.
The turkeys came off the roost and moved to our left. Tim and Demaris took the call, made a wide semi-circle to flank the gobblers. I couldn’t keep up, so I just laid back and listened. Then I hear a sweet sound. Two shots, right together.
They were so excited when they got back to me carrying a big tom. They both tried to tell the story at the same time.
“We knew we were ahead of them,” Tim said, “We called once and the gobbler answered right beside us. He couldn’t have been 30 yards.”
Demaris chipped in, “We were both standing with our guns already pointing. We didn’t have time to sit down. He came out of the brush on the urn. We both fired. Dead bird.”
Turkey season ended May 3. I need more days!
