Back home from a great turkey hunting day…notice I did not say turkey killing day.  We saw one hen turkey and she was running away from us up a dirt road while we were driving!  But are we discouraged?  Maybe a little, but the day was wonderful.

A little breezy this morning but not very cold.  We didn’t hear any gobbles today and only saw the one bird.  But just being out is what it’s all about.  We saw this:

That by itself was worth the trip.  Then to see the hen added icing to the day, but the very best was this, we took a hike into an area I have always wanted to hike into.  Were there turkeys in there?  Probably and we did see some scat that we are saying was turkey.  But that is something I can now cross off my bucket list.  Been there, done that.

And that’s not all.  Considering that I’m not in my prime anymore and at 63 I think I held my own with the Weasel on this hike.  From our vehicle, we hiked 2.62 miles in…That doesn’t sound like much to you does it?  Toss in the fact that the average incline for this hike was 5.4%…..toss in a few steep parts too…one of which was a 28.7% grade!  And top it all off with a vertical climb of 1,172 feet!

Back home you would think our legs would be rubber and we couldn’t walk…HAHAHA!  We laugh at pain!  Even my sore heal came through without even a hint of giving up!  So, 2.62 miles up and 2.62 miles back down…5.24 miles!  And that was after we had hiked in and out again from our morning stand area!  We are feeling good!

We were both carrying large amounts of water on our backs and Weasel was wearing his back pack…along the way we filled it up with trash from other peoples ventures…Weasel even found a button…so we call the trail…Button trail….Butt ‘N Weasel on the Button Trail!

Back at the truck we popped open a can of smoked oysters and ate them with cheddar cheese crackers with cheddar cheese filling!  MMMMMM!  A new one for the muzz hunt!

So there you have it folks, even old people can still climb a mountain when they want too!

Bears Butt

May 22, 2013

OK! Will this be the last turkey hunt for the 2013 season or not?  All I want to do is get a shot at one of those little buggers.  So does the Weasel.  We think if we get a shot and miss or whatever and don’t get our bird…well the season is over.  That’s good enough.

So, in the morning we are heading out once more to try and seal the deal.  Our game plan is simple.  Get up way before anyone else.  Drive the hour to the spot.  Hike the 30 minutes to the blinds.  Sit for hours hoping beyond hope that a gobbler likes the meadow we are watching.   And pulling the trigger on mister big boy tom.  Could the game plan be any simpler?

So, yesterday I woke up with a split in my right heel.  I have nursed it with Udder Aid

A product that we found in the old milk house when we converted it to the trapping shed.  I saved all of the cans…want one?

Anyway, this salve will fix anything from a cut to a sprain and I even think it will fix the rain gutters.  This stuff is fantastic.  Of course, for you people who are reading this and live in California…sorry guys…this stuff is known to cause cancer in you guys.

I went from a very sore, painful, split in my heal to one that could use that same heal to split bricks like a ninja warrior.  It still shows the crack, but it’s all healed over and is not sore at all.  I will sprint up the hills to the blinds!  Watch out Weasel, stay within sight of  my head lamp light or you will be left behind!

We are convinced that the turkeys will be roosted “where they are supposed to be” (never expect the expected), and they will come up the hill right into our waiting guns!  BLAM!!!!  BLAM!!!!  Two gobblers down!

Back at the truck will await two Oly beers to celebrate the kill and we won’t mind if that happens at 7 a.m. or later!  We also have two Spam sandwiches and some chips for our breakfast/lunch.  Can things be better planned?  I think not!

So, before the morning comes, I am writing this so you know when you wake up and read this that I wrote this “last night” (tonight to me right now) and now you know what me and the Weasel are doing.  Enjoy your cup of coffee and think of us sitting in our blinds in the cold morning air….but it ain’t raining and that is a very good thing, even though today we are prepared for it!  Heck, why don’t you go to the cupboard and get yourself a donut or cookie to go with your coffee…eat it and stare at this computer until the update comes later…It will you know!

Gobblers are coming to us today!

Bears Butt

May 22, 2013 (Actually written in the p.m. of May 21, 2013)

Tomorrow is Saturday, May 18, and it looks like it just might be the last day for turkey hunting for me.  For sure it is the last one available for Conner and I sure hope we can convince those birds to come in front of his gun.

The weather is calling for colder (50’s) temps and a 60% chance of rain…hmmmm.  I looked on the web and every die hard turkey hunter says hunting in the rain is good.  Are they nuts?

Here are a few of the things they are saying:

Most of the other hunters don’t hunt in the rain.

(Well Heck yes!  It’s cold and wet!  Why on earth get out there and sit in the rain?  We all know the birds are going to be held up in the thickest stuff there is and be out of the rain themeselves, they aren’t dumbies!)

Turkeys have to eat.

(Yes we all know that!  And they do it in the comfort of a dense cover of tree branches and leaves.)

Turkeys stay out in the open during a rain storm.

(WHAT?! No they don’t, they hide in the thickets like the other birds and only come out to get wet enough to rinse off the dust.)

Turkeys stay out in the open during a rain storm because they can see anything that is coming to get them.  They can’t hear the predator coming with all the rain hitting the leaves etc.

(Hmmm.  Maybe that’s why I’m a novice turkey hunter and not a turkey killer.)

So tomorrow, when you get out of your soft and warm bed and pour a cup of coffee and look out the window at the rain falling, just think of the three of us, Weasel, Conner and me, sitting there with cold rain dripping off the bills of our hats, trying to stay perfectly still while the icey rain, that has soaked us to the bone, continues its attack on us.  Yes, we are turkey hunters trying to learn just what it takes to bag one of these crafty critters.

I sure hope to have pictures of Conner with a big old gobbler in front of him when it’s all done.  It sure will be a reward after all of this.  A mile hike at 4:30 in the morning with nothing but a flashlight to guide the way.  Sliding down the steep clay banks and slick grass of the Springs growth and nestling into the make shift blind before daylight.  Hoping that the seat under our butts is not nestled into a red ant hill, or that a slick backed olive colored snake isn’t curled next to our necks getting warmed by the heat coming out of the top of our wet coats.

There will be a follow up to this.  Check back later on…if I survive I’ll post up the results of todays hunt.  Just go on past the “Bears Butt May 17, 2013” stuff and there you will have it.

Bears Butt

May 17, 2013

The continued story:

The day began as planned and of course the weather people were right on the money with their forecast.  Rain, and lots of it greeted us from the driveway all the way to the parking spot at the hunt site.  It continued through our hike and to our blinds.  And then it let up just enough that we could see through the drips coming off the ends of our hat bills.  Once it was satisfied we knew where we were, it decided to rain.

If I have learned one thing about turkey hunting it’s this:  Never expect the expected.  You can quote me on that one!  Some people say to never say never, but in this case it is perfectly acceptable and quite well deserving to use it…NEVER EXPECT THE EXPECTED while turkey hunting.  It will only dash your dreams.

Sitting in my perfect blind as the morning light became brighter and brighter through the fog and rain, I felt a slight tickle as some water rolled down the calf of my right leg.  I knew from the tickle that the water was going to end up in my shoe, but did I move?  Not a bit, what if a gobbler showed up right now and busted me for moving my leg so that that one drop of water didn’t end up in my shoe…I’m hunting for heck sake.  Don’t move…that is the order of the day.

Soon the tickle stopped and I knew that my pant leg was totally soaked and the water was just running down the back of my calf and into my shoe.  It’s alright I said to myself, it’s alright.

I wish I had worn some rain pants under my camo covers, then the rain would be running somewhere else, but nope, I didn’t think to bring them.  Oh yes, I wore my rain jacket and it’s under my camo coat and so my upper body is fine and dry…well almost…there is the matter of the soaking hat and the water trickling down the back of my neck, but that shouldn’t amount to much, the surface area of my hat can’t draw that much attention from the rain.

And the morning begins to really show itself off and now some birds are beginning to make some noise.  Nothing like the other day, but some bird chirping none the less.  It does seem odd that the birds are a bit late to start making noises.  Maybe the rain kept them awake a bit longer than usual last night.  I’m straining to hear gobbles, near or far and I think I heard a fly down, but not real sure.  Across the valley a truck pulls up behind mine and turns off the lights.  Then I hear him give out a crow call to try and wake a gobbler up.  He does it again…no gobbles.  Then back into his truck and down the road he goes.  My guess is he has done his turkey deed for the day, just like he told his wife he would and now him and his buddy are headed for the cafe for some hot coffee and breakfast…probably ham, hashbrowns, two eggs over medium, wheat toast with grape jelly, and of course hot, very hot coffee…..ooooo that stream is cool running down the back of my leg right now.

Was that a fly down I just heard?  Why my leg is jumping and my wet pant leg is flapping against itself…that is what I heard.  I’ve got to straighten this leg out and I hope there isn’t a gobbler anywhere close or I’m busted.  WOW!  Blood is sure warm when it’s allowed to circulate…ouch, that almost hurts.  I wonder if I can get away with moving my left leg….easy does it…oooooo, holy heck I had no idea that leg was so wet and cold.  Sure could use a big old plastic bag about now.  I could drape it across my legs and keep all the water off my pants.  Hey that’s a cool sight…look at the water running out the back of my boot…hahaha…whoeee my feet sure are cold.  I’ll bet those two guys in the restaurant are warm and cozy.

Where are those dirty birds?  Haven’t heard a sound from them.  Nobody has been hunting in here since Weasel and I were here a few days ago.  Those birds haven’t been pressured at all.  They should be sitting in those trees right over there and by now they should be all around us.  But NO…just rain…It is sort of cool sitting here freezing and waiting for a turkey to come popping by.  I wonder if Conner is about to go bonkers sitting up there in his blind.  I’ll radio up and find out.  Oh ya, Brandon can hear me, but can’t transmit for some reason.

In my best whisper voice….Hey, I’m soaked to the bone, if you guys are ready to go I sure am.  And looking up toward their blind I expect to see them both jump up and get ready to head off the mountain…but not a stir…are they asleep?  Have they perished from hypothermia?

Suddenly I see a hunter walking the grassy road down below us…I radio to the Weasel…Hey, there is a hunter walking the grassy road, let’s sit tight for awhile, maybe he will spook something up to us.

And we wait for what seems like another half hour.  My butt is frozen, my feet are frozen, my hands are frozen, my frozen is frozen and has freezer burn on it.  I pull my legs under me as best as I can.  Set the gun against the bush and slowly push myself up like a big old cow…there I stand…blood suddenly finding its way toward my feet…my feet are telling me they are still alive, my legs are soaking wet and heavy with clothes.  I look around for what I know will be a peering red head looking over a bush…I glance all around and see nothing of the sort…just wet grass getting wetter…I pick up my shotgun and slowly begin my assent towards Weasel and Conner.  By the time I get there my legs are thoroughly warmed by the climb and beginning to send signals to my brain to begin cramping without warning.  To say I’m cold is an understatement.  Are you ready to go?  And up they jumped as if they were sitting in a red ant bed…of course they are ready to go…they were ready to go when we got there…at least that is what I read in their eyes at that moment.

Back at the truck in record time…we walked up that hill, down the other side, and up another steep slippery and sloppy one with only taking two breaks.  What time is it?  7:30!  Crap, we should still be hunting.

Bears Butt

May 18, 2013

Another attempt at the turkey scene today.  Weasel and I are off to make another attempt.  It’s like the old saying goes, “You can’t bag the bird by sitting on the couch!”  Besides it’s going to be a very nice day today, highs near 80, partly cloudy and a very slight chance of rain this afternoon.  It sounds perfect.

We are once again heading for the same place we have been trying to bag a bird for four years.  There are birds there, we just can’t seem to get the job done.  Maybe today is the day we will stumble across the mountain and right into the birds.  The past three trips we have stumped ourselves, each time the birds have been just a bit “over there” leaving us scratching our heads on why they haven’t been following traditional patterns.

Our game plan for today is to try once again to put ourselves in their ever illusive path after fly down.  (Have you ever seen “fly down”? Me either.  Goose down, duck down, but never fly down.)  This means we have to go a little bit deeper and farther out than we usually do and I’m not so sure we shouldn’t just bite the bullet and go all the way to the bottom of the steepest and deepest canyon on the property…2 miles nearly straight down…nobody ever goes down there.  I hear that the last guy to ever go down there left this truck at the parking lot for two straight years, his wife put out a missing persons report, they combed the hills but nobody ever went “down there” looking for him.  When he did finally show up, he went straight to the infirmary and turned himself in….poor bugger.

But I believe that is where the birds are and the only way to get them out is to either go down there or try and coax one out.

More to come later with the report of the days happenings.

Bears Butt

May 16, 2013

P.M. Report

We had them…YES…we had them…but then we out smarted ourselves.

We had a very good hiding place as light began to brighten.  The birds were beginning to chirp away and the morning was unfolding.  The gobblers were tight mouthed however and it wasn’t until later than we thought it should be that we heard the first far off gobble!  We waited longer and still another far off gobble…way off from the property we are allowed to hunt.

The Weasel grew nervous and made a trek to see what he could see (you see it isn’t always the bear that does that)…suddenly he came rushing back…Birds just flew down and there are six of them right below us.

I snuck out and glassed…I could see two toms and one hen…but I knew there were others as well, I just didn’t want to stand any taller to see them.

So here are 6 birds about 150 yards straight below us, dancing around in a meadow and on a grassy road.  What do we do?

We parlayed and decided that we could get around in front of them and on that grassy road up hill from them…I’d call and Weasel would blast the first gobbler that came into view…a good plan.  And so we moved and moved quickly.  We knew what we had to do.  A silent move at that.  The gobbling continued.  And then it stopped.  Weasel set up at the base of a oak and I snuck off into the brush about 30 yards to his rear.  I began with some soft calls and intensified the sound until I got a gobble.  The birds were close.

My heart raced to think that this just might come together.  And then there were three distinct gobblers calling back and forth.  All three just up the hill from us…just up the hill in the direction we had just come from….what’s up with that?

And then I called some more…the gobbles kept up, but one of them was moving around behind us…still up on the hill side behind.  And out of the corner of my eye I see it strutting on the hill, not 20 yards up.  I could not move or it would see or hear me.  All I could do was watch.  Even if I could have gotten around I would not have had a shot, the brush and trees were too thick.  I gobbled its way out of sight.

But still there were two more quite close.  What about them?  I kept up my calling and they kept up theirs as well.  Pretty soon another was gobbling behind us, following the first one, but the third was still on our side of the world and working up hill from us.

I tried a tactic I had read about…going away from the gobbler while calling…making him think his new hen was going away…the object was to have the gobbler come down the hill and cross paths with the gunner, Weasel,…I kept trying, moving and moving some more as quiet as I could.  Calling and getting the gobbling response I expected, but it would not come in.

I worked my way back to the Weasel and said we needed to split up.  He should take the close gobbler and I’ll go chase the two that got behind us.  I have the call and perhaps my calling will keep his gobbler interested and he could nail it.

Off we went with good luck high fives in the air.

From my side of the mountain:

I continued to cluck and move up hill toward the two sounding off gobblers.  Being careful to stay close to or within the trees which grew thinner the higher I went.  I was moving fast and being quiet.  At the last of the trees I slid into the shadows of the West side and heard a gobble above.  About 300 yards, high on a ridge stood a sentinel gobbler, all alone.  He would gobble as he looked down into the valley where I was hiding.  I heard other gobbles answering his call.  The closest came from down where Weasel was.  The others seemed to be over the next hill to my left.  I sat patiently until the sentinel fed over the edge and then I moved my fastest up and across the meadow before me and into the next band of trees.  I continued up until I reached the last point of trees right at the crest of the ridge.  Quickly set myself up and called, hoping the sentinel would come around the edge and into my sights.  A half hour past, no answers to my calling.  I decided he had gone too far down the other side and I needed to try and get in front of him.

I went across an open hill top trying to conceal myself  by staying low, it worked until I saw the gobbler below me about 100 yards feeding.  I froze just as he popped his head up in a nervous way, looking right at me.  We had a stare down for about 10 minutes until he decided I must be a part of the terrain and then went back to feeding, constantly watching me for movement.  As soon as he disappeared on the other side of a bush, I moved toward the only bushes near me.  As I went into the bushes, I heard the ill feeling noise of a “Putt”…Busted!  But not by the bird down the hill, his one was only about 10 yards from me, and just over a small rise.  I decided instantly to “butt rush” it and hope it was a gobbler.  I ran as fast as I could, gun at port arms, looking for any sort of movement…through the brush I busted and the gobbler, just 5 yards away, took flight…I was in an awkward position and not a safe one at that moment and could not chance a shot…the bird flew and glided away, taking the lower gobbler with him at the same time…they glided down and down into the deepest and steepest canyon on the property…you know the one….shucks!

I sat for a brief moment trying to gather my thoughts on what I should have done, rather than what I did and could find no answer in my “new to turkey hunting” brain.

Without a plan, I crossed the open top and saw the Weasel sitting just under the rim about 300 yards away..I meandered in his direction.

Sitting along side the Weasel, he began to tell me his story:

When I left you, I went straight up the hill through the trees, being as quiet as I could.  The oak leaves are not very forgiving, but I did my best.  I was almost to where I figured I needed to be to intersect that noisy gobbler on my side of the hill.  I heard you several times clucking away as you proceeded in your direction and my gobbler kept sounding off.  He seemed to be staying in one spot.  I knew if I could get to the point of the trees above, I could set up and he would eventually come up and right into my waiting arm(s).  Three more steps and I would be there…and then off to my left…PUTT, PUTT, PUTT….busted!  And the bird turned downhill on a dead run!  I have no idea where he went, but just down hill and he was less than 10 yards from me! Damn!  Another “almost” in the bag.  With that, I decided to go watch your fun from above, I saw you down below me and then all of a sudden you are hidden in the oak high above.  Did you fly up there?

So, there we both sat, good stories in our bag, but the only thing in our hands were our cold sandwiches.

After the quick lunch, we went back to our morning stand to look things over.  That was the place the gobblers came up and over.  I figured my calling below them had caused the two to cut across the hill in search for the lonely hen, while the other was on his normal route up and over and down into the steep and deep canyon.  We have made our minds up that come Saturday, this is where we will be once again.

So we built ourselves two blinds.  One for Weasel and Conner to occupy and another way across the little valley where I will rest my butt.

This is the blind we put together for the Weasel and Conner.

And a quick shot of Weasel hiding in the blind.

And this is the view from within the blind.

There is a small swail about 30 yards below that would offer a nice shot should the birds use that to cross over.  Way out there you can see the point of the hill.  That is where my blind will be.  There is also a small swail about 30 yards below that spot and between the swails is a rise of about 10 feet.  To use it looks like a perfect turkey ambush setup.

This will be my bind and I’m actually in it for this picture.  Can you see the Butt?

And the view from my seat.

Oh Ya!  Turkey soup on Saturday morning!

Bears Butt

May 16, 2013

For those of you who have not seen the KSL Outdoors show from last Saturday (May 11, 2013), this link will take to to the site to view it.  As far as I’m concerned it’s the best Outdoors show put together so far.  But them I’m biased.

http://www.ksl.com/?nid=1112&sid=25163956

Bears Butt

May 14, 2013