Murphy’s Law and Turkey Hunting

A turkey decoy (left) and a jake gobbler we passed up on that day.

It was the nicest day of my second turkey season in Area K several years ago. It was clear and cool when we got into a good spot to listen at dawn. My buddy Arnie Minka was giving me a break: no turkey talking for me today. He would do the calling on the last day of my season.

There was no wind, which was a blessing after all of the wind of the past two weeks, and we sat quietly waiting to see if any gobblers sounded off at daybreak. Dawn was a pink blemish on the eastern horizon when the first bird gobbled nearly a mile away.

Five minute later another bird gobbled, hit a double-lick, and then single-gobbled to punctuate his earlier comment. Two minutes later the bird, perhaps 250 yards away, gobbled again and then another bird gobbled a half-mile to the west.

Wild gobblers calling at dawn

We sat patiently, waiting for another gobble, and weren't disappointed. The only thing is this bird was off in the woods several hundred yards away, and the hens were talking up a storm. Arnie let him gobble again, and then stroked out a soft yelp on a box call.

Two birds gobbled hard, took a breath and gobbled again. I'm thinking this is a little bit of alright. Arnie was grinning under his face mask.
He switched, just to see if it would work, to a slate call. The peg rasped out a soft purr and whine, and both birds lit up again. He didn't want to rush the calling too much. He wanted to let it get a bit brighter so it would be easier for me to see an approaching bird.

He picked up the slate call again, drew the peg in a soft J-stroke and the soft yelp turned on one of the birds. He rasped out a throaty gobble, roaring hard, and that forced the bird 250 yards away into a similar respon

Here we were on this wooded hilltop, approximately halfway between two lusty gobblers. The bird farthest away gobbled once, and it sounded as if he was closing the gap. Arnie gave another soft yelp on the slate call, and both birds answered. This was getting pretty exciting.

The neat thing was we were working two birds, and their male ego or whatever turkeys possess wouldn't let either bird give in. Box call or slate, it made no difference to them. Both birds were coming, and he softly teased them with another soft yelp and purr.

Suddenly, both gobblers shut up. Murphy’s Law had struck again.

They gobbled, each bird now within 200 yards, and the furthest bird double-gobbled and I thought I could see him approaching the tempting hen decoy. The other bird gobbled, rattling the woods, and Arnie whined softly on the box call, and that lit him up like a July 4th fireworks display.

All of a sudden, there was no noise. Not a turkey gobble, not a crow cawed, and Arnie hit another soft lick on the box call and slate. Nothing. The birds had gone mysteriously silent.

Why, I wondered, he hadn't hit any bad notes with his calls. Something had to have frightened the birds.

Two people were tending to farm chores. It wasn't hunter harassment, but more like Murphy's Law crimping our style.

We quickly moved our base of operations 100 yards, and tried again. There was no gobbles, no nothing. It was as if the ground had opened up, and swallowed both birds.

There was a vantage point another 100 yards away where we could see where the other bird had been, and we made our way to it. I laid my shotgun aside, and we spent 20 minutes glassing woodlots and open fields on both sides of the road.

We sat back, thought about it, and began glassing an area across the road. A gobbler stood out in the field at least 500 yards away, and was watching the road. He was a half-mile away from us, and there was only one way that might put us within shotgun range.

It would be a mile hike, and we dropped off our hill top vantage point, studied the terrain where the other bird had been, and saw nothing. We moved through the woods, across plowed fields, crossed the road and entered the woods.

We moved slowly and silently through the wet woodlot, and eventually got to within 200 yards of where the bird had been. That joker had disappeared. We walked through a woodlot, and never saw him again.

Several other spots were tried, and we took a long scouting ride, but there were no more turkeys.  We saw one jake with a two-inch beard, and he never received any consideration from me. I'd let him grow into something bigger for next year.

My season ended early that spring when four hens and two jakes were spotted crossing a field and heading for their roosting area. They offered us a brief thrill but we both realized that Mr. Murphy had ridden our backs all day. He proved, once again, that if anything can go wrong on a turkey hunt, it will.

The good thing was our hunt was fun while it lasted.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Winding my spring clock

A beautiful sunset with a big pike in hand is a wonderful outdoor experience.

There is a driving need for some people to delve deeply into their inner being, and learn basic lessons about how to enjoy their outdoor life. Everything in nature lives, and it dies, as shall we when our day comes.

Fishing and hunting has been a major part of my 71 years, and there is something buried so deep within my being that I can't remember when it wasn't there. There is this need -- a deeply felt need -- to taste the sweetness of the outdoor life as often as possible.

It's not enough for me to just go fishing or hunting. I've never had to force myself into the outdoors to experience this. My life just needs to sample some part of the outdoors every day, regardless of weather.

I try to immerse myself -- body and soul -- into all of nature’s complexities.

Sportsmen seldom speak of little birds. Song birds cannot be hunted, as we all know, but I enjoy watching them at the bird feeder. I'm not sure I know, nor care, how many 50-pound bags of sunflower seeds are purchased each year to feed them. Numbers really don't matter.

I sat along the banks of the Betsie River two days ago watching a hen steelhead spawn with three males that seemingly took turns darting in to squirt milt on a golden spill of released eggs. I didn't view that hen as an object of angling desire, something to hook, land and take home. Instead, watching those fish was symbolic of all good things in nature that tug ever harder at my need to become even closer to it.

There is something about wild animals, birds and fish I find fascinating.

Nothing stirs my soul more than the roaring thunder of a spring gobbler making himself loudly known to every hen within earshot. He stands as the epitome of spring sounds that make me smile, feel alive and in tune with nature.

What can be more relaxing on a golden spring day when the temperature soars to almost 70 degrees, and we sit on the ground under a cedar, and drink thirstily of this delightful scent. We hear the peenting of male woodcock impressing a hen, listen as a ruffed grouse drum-rolls out his love song on a fallen log. Sometimes we even nap on such a warm day, and it's not laziness but a complete surrender to spring.

Become one with nature and live a life of outdoor pleasure.

I yearn for a day on a jump-across creek, bubbling from deep within a cedar swamp, and seek Robert Traver's little speckled beauties as he did on his pilgrimages to Frenchman's Pond. I love to burrow into such dense swamps, fish between tree roots in deep little pockets, and catch one or two brookies with white piping along their fins. That day will come on the last Saturday in April when the statewide trout season opens.

I need to feel the cold, firm and smooth skin of a brookie in my water-moistened hand. There is a burning need to look upon the stark beauty of tiny red and blue haloed spots that glint in filtered sunlight like rare jewels. There are times when I keep one or two for a long-awaited lunch of picking pink meat from the bones, and knowing I should have let these trout live. I've escaped the nagging need to eat a brook trout for eight or nine years although I fish for them often, but the old craving for one or two is tempting my taste buds.

Deep within me is another urge which I will put off for a few more weeks, but then I'll succumb to fishing bluegills on their spawning beds. I won't take many, because filling a limit is something that disappeared from my angling life many years ago. Instead, I need to feel that sideways pull on my fly line as a pug-nosed 10-inch bluegill swims in tight circles in the clear water. Holding a slab bluegill in my hands, and admiring the fish momentarily before freeing the hook and the fish is what my twin brother George and I used to do. I'll do it again, and hope he is watching me catch a fish or two on his behalf.

Nature brings about urges, and like eating brook trout, we back away to save our fish.

Old friends, people who enjoy what I enjoy, and feast ravenously on the bounty of the great outdoors are fun to spend time with. We find that as time passes, and as we mellow, spending time on the water or in the woods is a blessing. We enjoy the day whether we catch fish or not, and in some cases, talking and recalling past trips are more meaningful than catching fish.

Perhaps it's the weather, the time of year when spring gives birth to a new season, and casting about in search of different reasons and ways to spend time outdoors, is what appeals to me. I cherish days spent fishing with my son, David, and they are most important to me.

I look at him, and see myself as a hard-charging younger angler who is willing to pause along the way, sniff the ripening fragrance of newly sprouted leeks, and think of leek soup. David seems to understand The Old Man and his moods, and we can go for long periods without speaking, because we know that nature is silently speaking to us.

Spring is a gift, and I hope to pass it along to like-minded people who realize there is more to fishing or hunting than catching and killing.

There is life, and a love of nature, for any who wish to pause long enough to look, listen, smell, taste and touch.

Spring is what keeps winding my outdoor clock.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Don’t make the mistake: take the jake

One must wait when a bunch of turkeys are present to avoid shooting two birds.

This is one of those unenforced rules that turkey hunters should always consider. The wild turkey is a very beautiful bird, and it's North America's largest game bird, and many hunters get caught up in all the beauty that is turkey hunting.

Everyone wants to hunt and shoot a great huge trophy. They want a bird with a beard as thick as a paintbrush and one that drags the ground, and preferably with hooks 1 ½-inch around the curve and a bird that tops 20 pounds.

Such birds are out there although spurs that long are often found only on the oldest gobblers. But it's all these things that attract gobbler hunters, and not every one will shoot a great big bird. In fact, very few of us will shoot a big gobbler when the season begins.

 

The decision isn't easily made until it presents itself, and you must move fast.

So the time-honored catch phrase “don't make the mistake: take the jake” can be excellent advice. Oh, yeah, I know: it's fine to hold out for Big Bird to show up, but as a general rule, those old Ground Shakers seldom show up when you want them to.

So, that makes the old catch phrase more meaningful. As often happens, especially when using calls and decoys, the first birds on the scene are the younger jakes with their itty-bitty two-inch beards. The big limb-walkers hold back, and watch the youngsters with all their eagerness, dash in to sweet-talk the hen decoys and then get shot.

It's one way to ensure that a gobbler grows up, grows a big beard, and develops some hook to his spurs. They let the little guys run in, while they strut and posture, and it just takes strutters longer to get moving sometimes. Capturing a bunch of hens from another gobbler's harem is always the idea, there's just no rush to it.

 

Try to think this problem through before it happens, and try to reach a decision.

Often, hunters can tell if the strutters are interested. They strut and dance, stick their heads out to call, turn around in little circles while displaying their strutting skills, and they move in slow. I like to wait and see what the longbeards plan to do.

Often, the strutters hang back with the hens they've already corralled, and they look for danger. Then the hens that run with gobblers are like doe deer; they are suspicious about anything that looks out of place. Suddenly, if a jake and two hens are in one spot, and not moving, it makes old hens skittish. Once the jakes get into the decoys, it piques the interest of the old gobblers.

Slowly, the older gobblers will finish their inspection, and move toward the jake decoy. This, obviously, is what many hunters want to see. Well, folks, sometimes it happens that way and other times it doesn't.

My advice if the big longbeard hangs back, the hunter can do one of two things: wait to see if the big boys move closer, but there is no way to tell if they will. Usually, if a longbeard plans to jump a hen decoy, it usually does it while the jakes are thinking about doing it. However, if the longbeard holds back, he's suspicious. If he walks away, and no longer answers the call, he's on his way out of Dodge City.

Now is the time when you make the final decision. No one can make it for you. Do you shoot the jake, and end your season by tying your tag to one of the legs, or do you pass up an easy shot in hopes of calling in another heavy gobbler? Only you can solve that problem.

Longtime hunters can tell when adult gobblers are about ready to skate out of there. The staked-out hen decoys aren't moving as a live bird would, and the big gobblers are holding back. The only target of opportunity is a jake.

 

Just don't move when turkeys are within shotgun range. Shoot or wait.

Mind you, there are no stigmas attached to shooting a jake. Only personal thoughts keep this from happening. The question that turkey hunters all over North American must ask themselves is this: I can kill that jake or I can wait and try for a larger birds. It can be a tough decision to make.
Only you can answer the question. I've shot lots of gobblers over the years, so it's my decision to shoot or wait, and I always wait. For first-time hunters or those who haven't shot many birds, my advice is simple. Don't make the mistake: take the jake.

Turkey Decoy Tactics 101

This jake is a good bird for a first-time turkey hunter.

Many decades ago, when turkey hunting was only practiced in southern states, using a decoy was unheard of because hadn't been invented yet.
And now, anyone with one or two gobblers to his or her credit has two or more decoys stuffed in the back of their hunting vest. Some folks use as many as five decoys, and I wonder how they can find time during a hunt to put out such a large flock of fake birds.

Hunters who have fallen into the turkey decoy habit may have missed the heart-pounding excitement of calling a gobbler through the woods, and have it come to the call looking for you. The bird may arrive from any direction, including the wrong one, and the hunter must be patient and vigilant as the gobbler struts, drums, gobbles, spits and tries to find the hen. Often the bird may be within a few feet of the hunter, setting your nerves a'jangle.

I was calling for my wife in Iowa several years ago. She was sitting slightly uphill from me as I worked a gobbler on and off for an hour before he shut up. I had my back to a big maple, my left elbow on a wire fence, and was ready to hang it up when something brushed my elbow.

It was a gobbler and a big one. The bird was less than a foot away. I sat still, and the bird walked down hill, jumped through a hole in the fence, and walked within two feet of my boots before heading uphill to her. Kay killed a 28-pound gobbler, and regardless of where you live or hunt, this is a huge bird.

Kay Richey places the finishing touches on this jake decoy.

But this is about turkey decoys, and although I think there is more excitement when hunting without the fakes, I always carry two or three. A flock of four, five or six decoys may work, but I find it cumbersome to carry that many fakes folded up in my vest.

Hunters ask: "Do decoys always work?" The answer is no. I've seen many cases where they didn't work, and many cases where they may have spooked incoming birds, but on average, if they are properly used, a decoy can toll in a big ol' Tom. One major problem is it's possible that two many gobblers may have seen one of their siblings get dusted, and if they see a decoy, some birds head for distant parts.

There have just been too many cases noted among very accomplished hunters where birds come just so far to a small spread of decoys, turn and head off in another direction. Decoys are not a cure-all for all turkey-hunting problems. Good hunting skills are needed.

There are some key things for turkey hunters to remember when using decoys. Here are a few to keep in mind when the season opens.

• Have the jake turkey facing you at 20 to 33 yards. An adult gobbler can and usually will go to a jake decoy, and face it. The gobbler, once his attention is riveted on the jake decoy, usually forgets everything else. Wait until the bird turns his body and lifts his head and neck to make that area visible for an accurate shot. Don't shoot at gobblers when their head and neck is retracted down into what appears to be their shoulders.

Kay Richey poses with a nice gobbler take while using the tactics from this article.

• If you know where the gobbler will come from, it's possible to position the jake decoy 20 yards out and 20 yards to the opposite side. The adult gobbler will walk past you on his way to smacking the fake jake around. It offers an ideal shot. Just make certain you have the shotgun up to your shoulder and be ready for a shot before he reaches the decoy. Things can get a bit frenzied when a gobbler goes after a jake.An adult bird that spots a jake decoy may come or may not. He may be ready to fight, and may hang back. A long-spurred gobbler, once he gets riled up, will put the spurs to a jake. I've had more than one jake shredded by the hooks of a big gobbler. It's a sight to behold, and there is nothing nice about it.
  

• Once, many years ago, I had a single hen decoy out and a light breeze made Henrietta turn just a bit on her stake. I had taken an old aluminum arrow, cut it in half, and put a target point on the end that goes into the ground, The end of the stake that went into my decoy had a washer next to the insert, and then another target point was used. The threads went through another washer, and screwed into the insert. This allowed the decoy to move slightly in the wind, which adds a touch of realism to a decoy spread.A gobbler began a slow approach through the woods, and when the bird was 50-60 yards away, the wind picked up and gusted hard. The wind blew the hen decoy around in a full circle, and that movement didn't put a gleam in this gobblers eye. He ran off like his tail feathers had been scorched.
  
  When I returned home, I found another scrap aluminum arrow, cut it in half, painted it dark brown. I moved the decoy tail back and forth, and inserted one of these stakes at each end of a quarter-circle swing. If the wind gusts, the decoy will move a bit but not too much, and it adds even more realism to your set-up.
  

• I dislike a motionless decoy. Watch real hens, and they are head-up, head-down, shaking their feathers and moving around. Your decoy should do the same, but it's hard to make that happen unless there is enough breeze to stir the decoys.
  
• My preference, when hunting near a field, is to have the hen decoys out about 15 yards past the jake decoy and away from where the gobbler will come. Separate the hens (if using more than one) by at least 15 to 20 yards. They can be positioned facing in most directions away from the jake.
  
• Most decoys are made so the stake can be placed at an angle. I like at least one hen decoys to be tipped forward with its head near the ground as if feeding. It makes your rig look more realistic.
  
• I have an old hen decoy that has been jumped and half-shredded by a randy old gobbler. Often, when gobblers are breeding hens, I use this hen and stake her flat to the ground, and place a jake decoy astraddle her. This can bring a longbeard streaking in to rescue the hen for his personal pleasure.
  
• I've owned and used many different decoys. I dislike gaudy looking jakes with too much red (and have seen some with orange heads). To me, they just don't look real.
  
• Spread your decoys out. Don't jam them together because this is what threatened birds do before they fly or run. Do not use decoys with erect heads. One with its head up is fine, but change the body and/or head position of the others. Don't have all the hen decoys facing the same direction.
  
• Decoys require some experimentation. Move them around, but I've found that keeping a jake decoy between hen decoys and the woods gives the illusion that the jake is keeping them corralled.

• If a gobbler is seen coming fast or slow to the decoys, let the fake birds do their job. Too much calling is a major mistake. Two or three hens, if they are feeding and spot an approaching longbeard, will usually shut their beak. Take a cue from the real birds. Don't call too much but play this part of the hunt slow and easy. Do this, and you'll probably punch that gobbler's ticket whenever your season opens.

Be careful and stay away from other hunters.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Solitary turkey hunting

More than one hunter with birds this close is one too many.

Make no mistake about it. By nature, I am a solitary hunter. Sure, I call turkeys for my wife, and some friends, but I enjoy being alone when turkey hunting.

Once, several years ago, a gobbler was 75 yards away and moving my way fast through the spring woods. He was fixated on Henrietta, my whupped-up-on hen decoy, and seemed committed to a quick romantic dalliance with her.

The longbeard was almost within shooting range when a morel mushroom picker walked up behind me, and bellowed: "What are you doing out here in the woods? What are you up to. I think I'll call the law."

The gobbler heard the human voice, hit the skids, jumped to the left, ducked behind a tree, and quickly disappeared from sight. He was as lost as last year's Easter egg from that time on. I was never able to locate that bird again.

Gobblers or a longbeard with hens are very spooky.

Other people chatter and talk. Some, like the above anecdote stated, are mushroom pickers. Many have no clue about turkey hunters, and it's just one more reason why one must be careful in the turkey woods.

Hunting these big longbeards is considered a one-man game. On occasion I'll take one or two people hunting, but dislike taking more than one. And frankly, I'd much rather hunt alone than with someone other than my wife.

The sad fact is that turkey hunting, which begins in a couple of weeks, is not a community event. It's not meant to be a social affair, a gathering of friends with similar hopes and desires. This gobbler business means absolute silence, no moving, and it also means a keen knowledge of how to set up on a bird and how to call it in.

Seldom will two hunters score during the same hunt. A guide and one hunter can work but one guide and two hunters soon becomes a lesson in frustration.

It's difficult for two people to shoot at two different birds.

There is much to be said for turkey hunting alone. You choose your hunting spot, and if the birds head the opposite direction, the hunter gets up, starts running while hoping to get ahead of them without being seen. It occasionally works, but most of the time it doesn't.

It's not easy, but it's much easier for one person than for two or three. Me and two others tend to get in each other's way, and often someone will move when they should be sitting still. A fidgety hunter will spook every turkey long before they walk within shotgun range.

Some hunters want to idle away slow time by chatting. I don't want people talking to me because I must listen, and don't need to hear stories of their earlier hunts, what he expects from this hunt, or to answer hunting questions when we should be motionless and silent.

My spare time on a hunt is spent trying to get someone into a bird. Sometimes it just doesn't work, and other times, the gobbler comes to the call like I have a rope tied to his neck. Now may be the time to state that I am not a for-hire guide. I only take family and good friends hunting, that is, if I have already taken my gobbler.

I prefer hunting alone although I often take my wife and she shoots.

Hunting alone has much going for it, and frankly, it pleases me immensely. It allows me to go where I want, make decisions whenever they become necessary, and there's no need to worry about someone else and their feelings, whether real or imagined.

One might say it's selfish, but who cares? It's my hunt, it's my time, and if I choose solitary hunting, so be it. It's not a case of being antisocial; it's a matter of knowing that one turkey hunter is far more effective than two or more people hunting together.

The odds improve greatly for solitary hunters. The only reason I take another person out for wild turkeys is that I enjoy watching them shoot their first gobbler. Both hunting alone and calling a bird for another hunter are selfish actions. I do them reasonably well on calm birds and with people who pay attention and don't move or talk.

People know I have bad vision, and they are counted on to help me spot incoming or circling birds. No words need to be spoken. An elbow nudge gets my attention, and the movement of a relaxed finger gives me the direction. The birds often are spotted first, but it doesn't always happen in a wooded area with heavy vegetation.

My instructions are simple, and should be easily understood. Sit still, don't move, sit with your back to a shoulder-wide tree, pull your knees up, rest the shotgun against your shoulder and across your knees, and listen to what is whispered to me.

I tell them that as the birds approaches us or my decoys that they cannot move, even if they have the mother of all back pains. Be still, don't make a sound and wait for the gobbler to move directly in front of the shotgun at 20 to 35 yards.

A sharp but barely audible putt is made when the gobbler is in the right position for a killing shot. The sound makes the bird stop, and its head goes up to look for danger. Be ready, and shoot the gobbler where the head and neck join. Hunters are warned to keep their cheek down on the shotgun stock, and don't lift their head when they pull the trigger or the shot will go high.

There will be plenty of time to palaver and talk once we leave the hunting area. Often other turkeys will have been with the dead gobbler, including other gobblers. Shoot the bird, sit still and don't move, and let the other birds wander off on their own.

Doing it this way doesn't alert them to humans in their midst. A shot could be confused with thunder, which turkeys hear all the time. It's the motion and noise of a moving hunter that jumps out from in front of a tree that sends birds heading for the next township.

Hunting a strutter can be hard. It's harder with another person.

Hunting alone removes all of these potential problems. It's one man, going one-up with a gobbler, and without any consideration for anyone else. It's making personal decisions, and living with them, whether they are right or wrong.

The case has been made for hunting alone, and although I take two to four hunters out every spring, I haven't figured out how to hunt error-free yet. Maybe I should hire me a guide and learn something new. But I won't because I enjoy the quiet solitude. It's what keeps me focused and willing to put up with too little sleep during the short spring season.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Practice turkey calling now … indoors

The author practices with a box call indoors.

It's one thing to choose a spot to ambush a gobbler when he walks by.  It's still something else to make a  longbeard come to you, one or two  tentative steps at a time; its head up and looking, the roar of a  return gobble, the sight of a snowball head moving slowly through the  woods toward the hen call.

Turkey hunting is fun. Calling a gobbler to the bow or shotgun is just  about as much fun as anyone can have while hunting. Is calling hard and must we be an expert caller to succeed?

Good questions. No, one doesn't have to be an expert and calling is not extremely hard. A diaphragm call is far more difficult to learn than an aluminum, glass or slate friction call. The wood box call is perfect because it is one of the easiest calls to master, and the easiest of all to is the push-button call that produces realistic sounds. So, what’s holding you back. Practice now, but not outside.

The most difficult turkey call of all to master is the wing-bone yelper. Anyone who can run a yelping sequence on a wing-bone or trumpet is a person who has my utmost admiration. It is extremely difficult to master this call, which is why few people use them in the northern states. Their use is slightly more common, but as a general rule, wingbone call are generally used by old-time turkey hunters.

There is one important thing to remember: turkeys, like humans, have different voices. They all sound slightly different.

I've listened to world champion callers, and once spent a week deer hunting with the late Dick Kirby of Quaker Boy Calls. He was prepping for the World Championship of turkey calling, and he could make truly realistic turkey sounds that were as clear and pure as the sound of a church bell on Sunday morning.

This longbeard was photographed coming to a turkey call.

"Championship calling is different than an in-the-field situation," Kirby told me years ago. "Hunters who can cluck, cutt, purr and yelp can call birds. Championship-type calling isn't required because no two turkeys sound alike. The key is more about the cadence and rhythm of a call than the quality of the sound. The biggest secret is knowing when to call, which call to make and not to call too much. A caller who calls too often will scare more birds than he attracts."

Using certain calls requires some skill but it’s not too hard to learn.

Box calls - Hold the call lightly in the palm of the hand. Many callers hold a box call horizontally, and draw the paddle across the top of the box. Some hunters, especially in southern states, hold the box vertically and hold the striker between index and middle fingers to strike the lip of the box. Both methods work well, and what it boils down to is using whichever method that feels the most comfortable.

A turkey show was on television recently, and the host was using a box call in a horizontal position, and would then hold the call in a vertical fashion. He didn't look very comfortable with either method. Use whichever feels most comfortable, and there's no need to switch back and forth from horizontal to vertical.

Make a cluck by popping the striker (handle) against the top of the box. It is a sharp one-note sound. To cutt, ake a series of sharp clucks in rapid fashion. Yelps are made by moving the handle across the lip of the box and cover the sound chamber to accomplish the two-note call. Purring is simple and works best early in the morning when birds are roosted; move the striker lightly and slowly across the lip of the box.

Diaphragm - Kirby could make astounding sounds with a diaphragm call but mine sound like a gobbler with a ruptured voice box. However, my diaphragm calls are effective. Remember, notes need not be competition perfect. Just understand the cadence of each call, and know when to make that particular call.

To cluck exhale air across the reed(s) and say "putt." Cutt by making three or four fast clucks quickly and sharply. They can be made loud or softly, and much depends on how far away the bird is and how he responds to the call. A soft cutt often excites birds when they are within 50 yards.

Master a purr, whine and yelp, and you can call gobblers.

A yelp begins high (and can be strung out) and falls off into a lower note. Yelps can be strung together quickly or done just once but jaw, mouth and tongue movement can affect volume and tone. Experiment until it sounds good. A purr is fairly difficult to do, but I find it easier than breaking off the high end of a yelp into the low tone. My yelps sound like a bird with tonsillitis but they come to it.

Aluminum, glass or slate calls are quite easy to use but require both hands. I favor these calls when a turkey is a good distance away, and as the bird comes closer, I switch to the diaphragm call so both hands are free to handle the shotgun.

All three materials require the use of a peg or striker. Strikers are made of glass, plastic or wood. To cluck, hold the striker like a ballpoint pen but turn the tip at an angle pointing toward your body and drag it toward you in a skipping motion. Press down harder to make a louder cluck. Cutting is done by making a series or fast and irregular clucks for five to seven seconds. Cutts can be soft or loud, and long or short in duration. Yelping is done by dragging the striker with some pressure in a circular motion or a straight line. The more pressure of striker against the call, the louder the sound. Purr by lightly dragging the striker across the call. This is one of my favorite calls early in the morning because it sounds like a contented bird.

A recording of these sounds make more sense for a beginner than me trying to put down what each sound is like. Hunters also can talk to an accomplished caller and learn these basic sounds.

Some gobblers are, by nature, downright call-shy, especially if some yoyo practices his calling outdoors. Gobblers often will call from the roost, and four or five Toms gobbling back and forth sends chills down my spine. As a general rule, don't call as often as a gobbler; let him wonder where the hen is and come looking for it. I often give one or two soft tree yelps after I hear the first crow calling at dawn. If there is no response, try again five minutes later. If a gobbler responds, sit still and say nothing. Wait for the gobbler to call again, and then softly cluck or purr for five seconds and shut up.

Hunters have up to four weeks to practice before their season opens.

A big limbwalker will probably boom back a return call but let him wait again. As he gobbles, birds in other areas may respond with a gobble so wait for a few minutes after silence is restored. Try another soft purr, and if it is full light, slap a turkey wing against a tree or your pant legs to imitate a bird flying down, and give one short and soft yelp to sound like a hen on the ground.

Muffle some calls like a hen moving around on the ground, and listen for the gobbler to fly down. Give him another yelp, and if he gobbles, let him come. If the bird stops 50 yards away, purr or softly cluck and scratch in the leaves with your fingers like a hen feeding. If the bird keeps coming, stay quiet and let him come. If the gobbler stops behind a tree within range, purr or cluck softly and shoot when he steps out and lifts his head.

If a gobbler hangs up, try a trick that has worked for me many times. Use two calls at once: yelp softly with a diaphragm and with a box or slate call to imitate two hens calling for Tommie. This trick has produced many gobblers for me and my friends. Or, try creeping backwards and turn and call softly to imitate a hen moving away.

Try to set up so the bird can come into a semi-open area to look for the hen. Gobblers will move through thick cover if necessary but they like to see what lays ahead and if it appears dangerous. Calling isn't particularly difficult but it requires some practice. Do it in the car, not out in the field. The first time you call outdoors is when you have a shotgun in hand.

The above are just some of the basics of calling a wild turkey within range, and it represents some of the tricks that work. Give 'em a try when the April-May turkey season is open, and work at learning something new every day. Studying turkey behavior and their calls- will pay off.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Naming some past turkeys

Some turkey gobblers are so special they deserve to be named.

Naming some of the gobblers we hunt lends a certain auro to them. The names also can identify certain Toms, and help us to remember where they were taken or shot at and missed. This practice of naming gobblers seems more prevalent down South than here in Michigan, but I often try to hang some kind of moniker to special birds.

What makes some of these gobblers so special? Many reasons come to mind, but difficulty in hunting them is a primary reason. Names become more common when more than one person knows the location of a particular bird.

Tonight's blog names some special birds I've hunted in Michigan. Countless can make a certain gobbler special.

The Ghost Gobbler

A special bird is the one I called the Ghost Gobbler. As one might expect from it's name, this bird lived for at least four years, and he was an odd bird. I hunted him for three years, and the reason I knew it was him was because he always seemed to show up unexpectedly and alone.

One of his traits was I saw him only once with another bird. He always seemed to travel alone, and he was never vocal. I watched him for two days from a distance of a quarter-mile, and saw him breed one hen. It's the only time I ever saw him with another bird. He actually seemed to avoid other gobblers.

He often roosted some distance from other birds. Once, I was working a different gobbler that eventually came to my shotgun along with two hens. I heard a rustle in the spring leaves behind me, and rather than turn and look, I concentrated on the incoming gobbler. The bird appeared at 20 yard, went into a full strut, and I shot him. Then I wheeled around, not to shoot but to see what was behind me, and it was the solitary heavy-weoght gobbler with a 12-inch beard.

He didn't gobble, and one day I set up in several different locations, trying to get in front of him without being seen or heard. I saw the bird three times that day, and although I did get in front of him, invariably he would go elsewhere. Three seasons passed, and I saw the same lone bird each year, but he never came to the call. He seems to have disappeared last year, and this is the only gobbler I've seen that would breed a hen and vanish. I never heard him utter a sound, and only once was he observed with a hen, and he was breeding her. He was the largest gobbler in 10 square miles, and I never heard of anyone ever taking that bird. He truly was a ghost gobbler.

The High Ridge Gobbler

This bird was one of a large group of turkeys that hung close to a ridge overlooking one of Michigan's major trout streams. Me and another guy hiked in to a spot well before daybreak, and sat and waited quietly. As the tweetie birds began chirping and a crow passed overhead, one gobbler on that ridge gobbled. That single gobble triggered gobbles from a half-dozen other nearby Toms. By the time the last one answered, the first bird double-gobbled, and each bird in turn would double-gobble.

The sound worked up and down the ridge like thunder from a summer storm, and then a solitary gobble came from across the river, and all six longbeards on our side had to answer. The ground=shaking roar of the birds was a wild cacophony of turkey talk that sent shivers up and down my spine. Then, we heard the sounds of heavy bodies breaking tree branches as the six birds flew down 100 yards away.

"Sit there," he whispered softly, pointing to a tall and wide stump. I'll get over behind yonder tree to call. The birds will walk right past you for an easy shot."

That didn't happen. The birds circled around, down the ridge and out of sight, and came up the hill at 75 yards. They spread out, and the biggest bird headed for where my buddy lay, belly on the ground, sweet-talking the birds. They circled around, keeping my ground-hugging friend between me and then. There was no chance for a safe shot.

They kept coming, and the biggest gobbler was double-gobbling, spitting and drumming, and I sat back to watch the show. That bird walked up to my prone partner, stood right between his legs, and gobbled lustily in his ear. I kid you not: my buddy seemed to instantly levitate about two feet off the ground, which spooked all the gobblers. I laughed so hard I was crying, and once the birds had disappeared, he asked: "Why didn't you shoot?"

I was laughing too hard. One more step, and that gobbler would have been standing on his butt. He didn't think it was funny but it was worth not shooting just to watch him jump.

The Cemetery Gobbler

This bird always roosted just behind a very old family cemetary right next to state. Tombstones were crumbling, names were faded, and it appeared to be a homesteader's plot far back from any road. I'd glassed the area from afar, and it was surrounded by state land.

I hunted that bird at dawn, but he seemed to favored an open field some distance away to strut for any nearby hens. This bird was cagey, and one day he would choose a strut zone in one location, and the next day he'd be in another part of the field. There was no pattern to where he would meet the hen at mid-morning.

It was the last day of my season, and I decided to sleep in. That afternoon, I hiked into the area near the cemetary, and since I knew which tree he roosted in, I moved to a spot he always seemed to pass before flying up to roost. It would put me into the right area at the right time, well before sundown.

There would be no calling this day. I was in place for two hours when I saw him moving slowly through the woods to his fly-up point. He walked past me at 20 yards, I checked my time, and I was fine with plenty of legal shooting time left. The bird stopped at 35 yards, and looked around. I put the crosshairs of my Bushnell scope on his head-neck area, clicked off the safety, and whispered "Hey!" His head went up like a periscope, and it was an easy shot. That Michigan gobbler weighed 20 pounds.

There are many other turkey tales about birds I've named, and more will have to wait for another time. Hopefully, these will whet your appetite for the upcoming spring turkey season. Remember this turkey-hunting advice: shoot once, shoot straight and don't miss.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors