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