Month: May 2020

Week four of the 2020 Wisconsin Turkey Season and our last tags of the year are on the board waiting to be filled. Alex and I are hunting together again just like week one.

Unlike week one, the weather is 20 degrees warmer and the buds on the trees are starting to burst with little mini green leaves. I think my wife and daughters would call them cute. I just call the in my way most of the time as I try to locate the birds.

The first day was more comfortable than day one week one but yielded the same results on our morning hunt.

That would be it for me. Work had suddenly and very happily become busy. The Covid 19 virus had taken its toll and made you thankful for every order you could get.

That left a quick hunt on Mother’s Day morning. Alex filled his tag one late afternoon on a layout belly crawl across a corn field with two of very good friends holding fan decoys. The targeted tom came charging in at a sprint and was stopped abruptly by 3 and half inch 12-gauge load and 3 guys having a blast. Then abruptly I had the only tag to fill.

Alex joined me and we chose to hunt behind my parent’s house. We hadn’t hunted it together for quite a while. The sun hadn’t broken the horizon and we heard our first gobble. Experience and land knowledge are helpful. We knew precisely where they were roosted. It called for a decision down the tracks and call them in for a fly down or up the hill that requires a short hop off the roost but a long ugly walk up a lime stone rock, leaf ridden hill with small branches hiding under the leaves just waiting to put you on your butt for the hunters.

We talked about it for a second and I made the call. Up the hill. Two reasons. First experience told me they have usually hopped off on top then worked their way to the fields. Second it would be a revisit to the spot Alex shot one of his first his bird and we double up that day. Great memory.

We made it up the hill uneventfully. I brought a chair to sit on and Alex leaned against a tree. The Tom and hen decoys were set and it was time to call. A quick scratch of the slate and we were answered quickly by two gobbles. Right where we thought they would be.

We had been sitting less than 10 minutes and we were into good shooting light and we heard a bird fly down and seconds later Alex says “Do you see him? He is strutting” I say no. I struggled to locate the fanned bird behind all the tiny “cute” leaves. Nothing. I looked over to Alex and he said “To the right near the fence now. Can you see him?” I finally located the bird as he was getting ready to cross a fence and surely escape into the large stretch of tall pine trees.

I pulled up my shotgun located the bird and boom. Bird runs away, boom, again bird keeps running. We have been hunting for less than 30 minutes and I whiffed twice. Twelve years earlier near that exact spot Alex and I double up on two shots. Ouch.

I ethically checked to see if I got lucky to make sure the bird was not laying there and I saw its roosting buddy run away. But nope clean miss. So proud. UGH!

It was early, too early to quit so we went back and started calling. The two toms came back circled us just out of range. One tom came in behind us in range but over Alex’s shoulder so it was a no shot situation. They wondered off but a hen came to visit and hopped on the log I had my gun barrel resting. She stopped on not more than five feet from us. I could see the bend in her eyelashes. She was a sweet thing, I understood why the boys liked her.

That was it for Mother’s Day hunting.

The last day of my season, the last evening of the last day and it was beautifully sunny, dry and 58 degrees.

We went to a piece of property Alex filled a young man’s first tag with earlier in the year.

We set up quick it was already 6pm. We heard a gobble on our side of the valley but one or two ravines to the north. We sat for another 20 minutes trying to coax him over but it wasn’t working. We packed up and walked north to the ravines. We stopped and called every couple of hundred yards locating the bird each time. Kind of a Marco Polo with a 12 gauge and a slate call. The ground was noisy like walking on a combination of corn flakes and raw spaghetti. The highway to the west to of us would add to the noise as cars hit the rumble strips at the intersection. All these noises we were sorting out as we listened hard for gobbles or putts of birds to give away their location.

We stopped just before each crest of a hill and before we entered a ravine. It happened to be the furthest ravine still on our property. That part was nice the pace was fast and exciting. It is a strong possibility we may be drawing the birds to us as we closed the gap on them. The other part was less than wonderful. The ravines were steep and we covered at least three quarters of a mile. We stopped at the edge of the last ravine and called the gobble came back and we thought we pin pointed his location. We stopped one more time near a fence that separated a corn field from a pasture. I looked at Alex he pointed to the fence with where two wires were off between the steel post so we chose the safe and easy crossing point. A laughed to myself a little sweat was beading up on his forehead. Three weeks ago these would be icicles. My forehead was more like rivers of sweat rushing to my eyebrows as my heavy breaths pushed the rivers to waterfalls over my eyebrows to the crunchy earth.

The last known location of the bird was still a couple of hundred yards up the field according to its last gobble. Alex grabbed the fan and said let’s get to near the top of the rolling hill in the middle of a corn stubble field that was laid neatly between the deep ravine woods and rolling pasture.

We stood with the fan in front of our faces not able to see the edge of the field and called. The Tom gobbled again he had move toward us and we could almost feel the vibration from the sound waves. We sprawled out flat on our stomach’s the fan in front of us. I had my gun pointing straight ahead directly at the last gobble. Alex used his mouth call and gave a loud raspy yelp. The response came back quickly now he had crossed our faces and was to the right of us. If he came into us from that direction I was out of luck. I could not swing my gun that way and shoot. Alex was laying just to my right.

A head appeared at the crest of the hill. A hen. NO! We were going to get busted by her. We froze and waited, she disappeared back over the hill. Did she take the boys away? We waited. Nothing. We lifted our heads and looked to the right over the crest of the hill where the hen went and I saw some birds. She had busted us but she was not overly startled by two 200lb plus males laying face first in the dirt holding a 12 gauge and a fake Tom. She had taken him away but not too far.

We immediately dropped back down. They were still just 70 yards away. Two maybe three birds. I thought one had a red head. So, did Al. “Did you see that one had a red head I whispered” Alex he said “yes.” He called again with his mouth call, another gobble. Then we saw him, we could not tell if was a Jake or a tom at first glance. Another guy gobbled just behind him.

The bird kept approaching all we could see was his head. He was coming toward us. Then he fanned and gobbled and gobbled and gobbled. Now straight ahead of us. He fanned and all I could see was the top of his fan revealing he was indeed a mature male. I whispered to Alex it’s a Tom. He was 25 yards out only giving us the head shot. Al whispered “Stand up and shoot him.

I started to move but then decided no. I will wait. Al whispered again “Stand up and take him.” I said I am not confident enough I can get up quickly and quiet and smooth enough to successfully do it. Do you remember the two 200lb guys on their belly? I was on the very high end of the 200. I would be more like an Easter egg trying to find its feet with a loaded gun. I was far from a twenty something athlete that would make that move without even feeling one joint protest the movement.

Let’s wait I said. Call again. That was all it took the fan came over the hill and right at the decoy in our hand. He was at 15 yard and said “I am going to shoot. Al said “Wait let him get closer.”

What the hell I thought if it gets any closer I will be able to smell the bird’s breath and know what it had for dinner. I had the bird at the end of my gun. He was gorgeous. I could see his deep black eyes and the bumps on his head his waddle wiggling back and forth as he strutted toward us. His bright red head with highlights of blue focused dominantly at the fan decoy in Alex’s hand. My bead pointed directly between the head and the beard. I could almost see this guy on my grill. 5 yards. Boom. Some feathers flew. But no flop. Nothing. The bird took two quick steps and took flight, I raised my gun to shoot again and in the ejection chamber rested the empty shell. No second shot. I looked over my shoulder and saw Alex lying flat on his back arms spread wide like someone knocked him out.

First, I looked like any Dad would do to see if he was ok. Had something happened? After inspection his only injury was exasperation. He finally spoke with a half-smile on his face. “What had just happened?”

I had no answer. Humbling, Humiliating, Fun.

I felt like a Minnesota Viking or Chicago Bears field goal kicker in a playoff game. I must have pulled it to the left or right. I looked at Alex laying on the ground with a look of disbelief. It is not like I never miss. I have become rather good at it lately. From a success rate of almost 100 percent my first 20 years of turkey hunting. I have now missed 3 of my last 5 very baggable birds. Each time with an audience. So, I really don’t know why Alex looked so surprised.

Missing is easy. Just don’t have the barrel pointing at your target. Hitting is just as easy point the barrel at your target. Finding out why you are having issues with it is not so easy.

It has never been about the shot or filled tag. It obviously makes It better. But what a night. What a sneak, Great calling. To be that close to a very smart mature bird was amazing. It was not his time to visit my freezer or grill.

He must have some unfinished business. Make me proud my two fortunate targets of my second season. Get your job done Thank you, you gave us a nice show and some great memories.

The long trip back to the truck had my emotions on a roller coaster. I could see Alex texting. The word will be out. I smiled a little, you can’t make this stuff up. I went from exasperate to frustrated back to exasperated. What the heck was I doing wrong? I am sure that list is long but I was self -evaluating. I handed the tom decoy back to Alex. “Take it.” I said am not sure what my next emotion will be and I don’t want to throw the decoy. By the way your driving home. As the dust settled my final emotion rested on embarrassed. With a smile on my face.

Not physically tagged out and not an official statistic in the Wisconsin Department of Natural Resource under filled tags. But filled again with memories. All positive memories even with negative results. These two hunts will haunt me a little but every time I think about the missing I think about all the cool things that led up to the miss. I wouldn’t change a thing. Ok that is a fib. One of those birds should be in my freezer.

That ends 2020.

The 2020 Turkey season in Wisconsin could not come soon enough. With the entire world worrying about getting sick and how they were going to make the next payment on their house or car, scouting for turkeys and sitting behind a turkey decoy was a welcome break.

Or at least I thought it would be. Alex and I drew the opening week of the season together. We were pleased at our luck and looked forward to hunting together with each of us having a tag to fill at the same time. It had been a while since we were able to do that. Fast Forward.

It is Thursday already the second day into week two of this year’s turkey season. Alex and I are not holding a tag. That means we are at work. Alex works from home now do to the “Stay at Home” orders and I am off to the office getting things done that normally would not be possible when the plant is open and full speed.

It was quiet, peaceful then my cell phone rings. Its Alex “Dad, do you think it would be ok to take someone hunting over my lunch break? He is a 7th grader and has not had any luck yet, ever. I was thinking about taking him to the farm off of Hwy 35. Do you think that is ok?” I said yes it will be fine, we have permission to hunt that farm again this year. “Have fun, good luck and be safe.” I said as the phone cell phone went dark. One hour later my phone rings again and I happened to be in my truck enjoying the 60-degree sunny weather, something that was not available season one. I saw it was Alex, I wondered did he run into trouble with the farmer when getting on the property? I knew we were ok so that couldn’t be it. One hour is not long enough to call a bird up those deep valleys plus setting up a new hunter usually takes some time. Did he get stuck. Rather than guess I decided to answer the phone and eliminate all my wild imaginations.

Like most parents can, I knew in by the tone of his voice after his first word if I should be concerned, happy or looking to call 911. “Dad, He got it! His first bird ever, it was so cool, he came running into the decoy, we just got set up. It was so fun. I like it more than when I shoot a bird,” He ripped off in rapid session in one big breath. You can tell when someone is smiling when they talk to you and he was definitely smiling. I said fantastic, congratulations, get some pictures. I will, his dad came along too, they both are really excited.

Driving down I94 heading back to Hudson WI I looked in the rear-view mirror to check traffic and there I was smiling back at myself and I knew why. Alex got to experience what I feel every time he shoots a bird with me and he liked it. He liked it a lot.

Well enough of the warm and fuzzy stuff, let’s get to the cold and miserable. Yes, the first week had been promising two weeks prior some good warm weather had stripped the fields and woods of the winter snow. I promptly put the winter white camo away and set out the early spring lighter version. Mistake number one of our first season. Easter Sunday brought 4 inches of cold wet heavy snow that was pushed around by high winds leaving some deep drifts in places. So deep it was unlikely it could leave in just two days even though the forecast indicated mid 40’s.

The late snow changed the patterns of the birds we were scouting for our opening day. 4pm on Tuesday. Scout time for the Wednesday opener. We had 5 places to check in 2 and a half hours if we wanted to see them on their feet. We hit all our old reliable spots, NOTHING, no visual no, no verbal response to the crow call or owl call. One last chance at an area just off our number one location. We never hunt it but it was less than a quarter mile away and we had permission. We drove up the hill stopping half way up and called. Boom 4 gobbles in rapid succession. A car drove past us and they gobbled again. Close very close. Then we saw them in a tree not more than 15 yards from the road. Silhouetted against the setting sky. One bird gave us a nice profile and we could see it was a long beard.

We rolled up the windows finished our drive up the hill looking off the edge of the road for a suitable set up for the morning. The snow on the ground showed us the open spots that would make a good strutting area. We had to guess and we had to be careful. The birds were close to the road and spooky.

Wednesday morning came and the thermometer read 9 degrees. Yes 9, but we were still excited we had located birds which we felt was a gift because we went from zero to 4 as the sun set.

When you walk into a new area the dark, without a blind, without a seat, not really knowing where the likely fly down area will be and you are too close to the birds to roam freely you look, you set up, you pick a tree and sit. We would know soon enough if we were right or wrong and we have been wrong before and looking in the mirror, I would not starve to death. Little did I know I might freeze to death.

5 minutes in and the birds are talking to us. Alex is set up back against a tree. I am just off the tree, not by choice but by necessity. Lucky me. I chose the side of the tree in the dark with a large broken off branch that let me know it was there when I went to lean on it. No problem. I have been in that position before. This would be a quick hunt. I slid off the tree and sat unsupported just off the tree but close enough to have it break up my outline. We were on a slight decline facing up. The flat spot was on a hog back ridge, and we saw turkey tracks in the snow coming in. I could do this. My abs need the work. The incline was slight but not to my disproportion distribution of my body. Light legs uphill, Heavy torso downhill. You do not have to be a mechanical engineer to know that this was not going to be easy. This was the closest thing to a sit up have done in many years. Some might call it an ab crunch or some other creative name trainers give it to make you feel good about pain.

I sat without discomfort for at least 5 minutes and 10 gobbles. I gave in and used both hands under my knees to hold me in place. This was going to have to be Al’s shot. Besides I think I just plugged the end of my gun with snow. A slight breeze dropped the temperature even more. The chill had gripped me even through the heavy white camo jacket I retrieved from the storage bin.

1 hour later the birds were still in the roost. They didn’t want to get out of bed either. I was convinced I was dumber than a turkey. I gave in and leaned back to support my back, smartly placing both hands into the snow bank behind me. They were numb anyway. Then we heard a fly down. Looking to my left I could see a bird. A Jake. He was walking up the paved road toward our parked truck. I envied that bird.

The birds were on the ground and we were nearing 2 hours in the sit. They were hung up on the ridge and they would come close but not in vision. I was visibly shaking and Al said let’s get out of here. I did not argue. We snuck to the ridge and could hear the nervous cluck of startled birds but could not see them. We froze and waited. Nothing. We surrendered to the weather picked up our decoys and left for the truck. As we drove down the hill to heaven, I mean a warm house and hot shower. A big long bearded tom walked across the road not more than 20 yards in front of us. He walked slowly off stopped 30 yards off the road and looked back at us. If his feathers were fingers, he would be sticking his middle one up at us with a big gobbler smile. The Birds were listening to our President and Governor and practicing social distancing. That ended day one for me.

1pm at work and I was still cold. My phone rings. DAD—BIG BIRD DOWN! Al said into his phone. I went to our old reliable spot and sat in the blind not than 30 minutes during my lunch break. Fantastic I said and suddenly I was warm.

We skipped scouting and sat that evening and saw nothing. That gamble hurt us a bit in that we had no bedded birds to set upon in the morning.

Ready or not the second morning of the season came and we set up at the end of a pine tree planting. I dressed even warmer and brought a chair. This was not going to be a short hunt and even if it was I was not going to complicate misery by adding uncomfortable to cold.

All set. Alex hit the calls. Boom 3 good gobbles and close. Again, and again. Then we saw them fly down one by one into the field in perfect position to move to our decoy set. The decoy set was a fanned tom with a hen. 9 birds flew down they were too far away to see what they were hen, Tom or Jake. Three of them gobble again. Well three of them were male. We were ready. The group moved perfectly giving us a strut show. It also let us know it was a group of 9 jakes. We decide many years ago to pass on jakes and just enjoy the show. Like watching middle schoolers push, pull and pile on each other. Some timid and would not come near the Tom decoy, other brash and bold and went right upto the tom. The birds gradually drifted off and were not replaced with any others. The hunting part of day two was in the books. My tag still empty.

The evening of day two took us scouting again. Our cameras found 2 toms one 16 miles away the other a half mile away both late in the afternoon. We scouted spots without cameras and found nothing.

We chose to set up on the closest bird to home. Which is where Alex filled his tag two days prior. The blind was upside down. Really? The wind had cartwheeled it up against the tree we had it anchored too. What a mess, the wind broke one support and one side would not extend. We quietly got it set up and we were ready. The sun climbed up in the east the breeze was light from the west. A clear day. Warmer than the past two but that was not hard to accomplish. We heard a group gobble as the sun came up. We knew from experience they were deep in the valley maybe even a ridge over. Had the big Tom we saw on camera kept on going east that afternoon? It was very possible. The mood of the morning and the theme of my opener would lead me to believe it. A consistent string of gobbles greeted us that morning distant but fun to hear. You could hear that they were getting to the ground now. Their location was moving a bit. Then all said did you hear that? Hear what? I said. I just heard a bird fly down. Then I heard a hen call behind us. Okay, par for the course for this miserable week the one bird close enough to hear a fly down is a female.

Then boom a gobble a close gobble. Alex called and he ripped it again. 2 minutes later we see his head periscope the field and he strutted out checking out the decoys.

Alex was seated to the left of me holding the collapsed side of the blind and I was up against the right side of the tent. The decoys were in the right half of the center window and the big boy was 70 yards out and closing appearing big and boisterous in the window between the decoy and the edge of blind. He closed fast getting closer to the decoy. Now veering off to the right toward the ridge he just entered from. He let another gobble go. How fun is this?! He is in range now. I have my gun ready but not shouldered. Al says “shoot him”. I say I cannot see him he just disappeared behind the corner of the blind I have to wait for him to appear in the side window. Al says “shoot him” now. He is now visible. I have him in my sights ready to squeeze and he takes two quick steps toward the ridge. He doesn’t like something and he is getting ready to exit. RE-AIM quick I thought and squeezed. The 12 gauge barked the smoke from the muzzle filled the window and 30 yards away lay a filled tag. Al said “you got him!” I got it all recorded on my phone!” Season One 2020 is over not so miserable after all. 2 tags filled. Tagged out for season one 2020. We both have tags for SEASON 4!!!!!