I was hunting with a friend a few years back and had quite a morning on a foggy mountaintop in Mendocino county. My friend and I had spent a fruitless day hiking the steep hills in Mendocino county about 10 miles inland. Late in the day we decided to go to one of our favorite listening points on the ranch and see if we heard any gobblers going up to roost. From this vantage point (we call it Plymouth Rock), we could hear about 700 yards down below and if the wind cooparated possibly farther. On this evening, the fog was rolling in quickly but hadnt yet reached the opening below the rock. A lone gobbler was strutting, and I didnt see a hen around. He came out of the woods, and was standing 700 yards from me 10 yards into the clearing.
After watching him for a few minutes with the binoculars, I thought I'd float a call or two his way. I used a MAD calls aluminator and some very screechy sounding hen yelps drifted down the valley. I couldnt quite tell if he gobbled, but he packed up his tail and steadily walked toward me. He didnt go very far before he popped back into strut and continued to head my way. I grabbed my buddy on the other side of the rock and called him over. From this distance the bird couldnt see me since I was wearing camo, and I didnt think he could pick up movement athat far. I watched him for 15 minutes, calling every minute or so. He steadily marched in my direction, as the fog closed in around him. It was a surreal site as the sun went down to watch this gobbler come in and out of view as the fog bank rolled in below me. He finally ended up 150 yards below as it got dark and fog obscured him for good. I expected that he'd rooste in the only stnad of trees around, which was below my position. I called after I thought he was in the tree for sure, and through the fog a lone gobble shook the trees.
At dawn, my friend and I walked a half mile around so we coud set up below the bird. I'd be in the meadow where I initialy saw him, hoping he might sail down and land there. My friend woul dbe 150 yards away at another opening. At dawn, I was sitting against an old fallen oak 15 yards from the small opening. The bird gobbled once off the roost and a few minutes later I heard a loud hiss as the bird sailed down from 500 yards above going as fast as I've ever see a turkey move. He didnt flap at all, just glided 20 yards over my head and landed in the woods behind me. Why didnt he land in the open:? Why would he risk injury heading into the thick woods at that speed? Had he originally intended to land in front of me but spotted me on the way down??
As I pondered these quiestions I heard a loud gobble. The bird was 80 yards out and headed toward me. A 10 foot deep dry creek lay between us. I thought he'd gobble on the other side but wouldnt cross. I saw a read head walk to the far bank and go into strut. Partially obsucred, I was able to pull my call and do one quiet yelp. He tucked his wings in anddisappeared behind some trees. I used the opportunity to shift 45 degrees so I'd be facing him if he came. This gobbler popped out of the woods on my side of the creek and strutted toward my decoy. It was the last day of the season and I resolved to let him strut right in. At 35 yards I had him dead if I wanted to pull the trigger, but I thought I would just sit tight and see what happened. I clicked off the safety and kept my bead on him. At about 30 yards BANG, a shot rings out. Its my friend 150 yards up the draw. I know this turkey is gone so before the shot was even through ringing through the woods I pulled my triger. The bird wend down and lay still in front of me.
I put the bird over my shoulder and walked toward my friend. He had called in 7 or 8 birds with a strutter following them and taken a nice one. When he heard my shot, he thought it was the echo off a big rock face nearby of his shot.
As we took a brutal hike uphill to the truck, we stopped and compared birds. They looked completely different, even though they were shot 150 yards apart at 3000 feet elevation. One looked like a South Texas Rio Grande and the other had the white coloration of an Merriams. In reality, they were probably both hybrids but the difference in appearance was striking.
As we loaded the birds in the truck, a lone bird gobbled behind us. The day before had been devoid of gobbles, and this day seems to be the opposite. We listened to this lone gobbler awhile and headed down the mountain to camp.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Friday, April 3, 2009
Kaiser Sose
One of the toughest birds I ever hunted was a bird I dubbed "Kaiser Sose" after the character in the movie "the usual suspects" who is a ruthless villian and no one has ever seen. He had a penchant for disappearing, though it was debatable as to whether he even existed. I ran into him during a South Texas brush country hunt in spring 2008. In a far off rarely visited corner of the 10,000 acre ranch, I first ran into him while a friend and I tried to strike a bird in the late morning. His favorite haunt was an area full of heavy brush, thorns, and cactus that no turkey should live in. A high fence ran up one side of what the ranchers loosely refer to as a "pasture" and on each side of the fence was a one lane dirt road. The word pasture conjures up images of green grassy expanses filled with contendely browsing cows or horses, and this place was the exact opposite. I use the term "road" loosely since it probably didnt see 1 truck a month. As a friend and I crested a small rise we saw him at 250 yards. He was on the wrong side of the fence, where we couldnt hunt, but right close to it. He was slowly strutting up the road toward us. We thought that maybe he'd fly over or knew a way through to our side so we began our approach. He gobbled at every single call we threw his way. As we eased through the brush, we heard the unmistakable sound of a very unhappy Texas rattlesnake. It was coiled at the base of a cactus right in our path. Being die hard turkey hunters, we quietly dispatched it with a stick (even though we both carried 12 gauge shotguns) and moved forward. No snake was going to get between us and a gobbling turkey. This snake was an omen and I now believe the turkey and rattler were in cahoots. We finally set up about 75 yards from Kaiser Sose and thought he was headed our way. He gobbled every minute or two and then abruptly stopped. We didnt hear or see him again that day. He disappeared into thin air. The next morning, we crested the rise again, and there he was in exactly the same spot. We used the same tactic, not having any other option available due to the brush, and got the same results.
This field was a long drive and hike from camp and probably didn't hold too many turkeys so until now I hadn't bothered hitting it at dawn. My logic was that if I went all the way out to this desolate cactus filled stretch and didn't hear a gobbler, the first light of the day was wasted and being that the hunters on the ranch shared a truck I would have to wait 3 hours for a pick up. On the third morning, I reconsidered and finally decided to head out at first light and wait right where I saw him the previous two days. I thought if I got there early enough, I'd ambush him as he strutted by on the road.
The next morning dawn broke to a lone gobbler sounding off 150 yards from where I sat. I knew it was him. If he did the same thing he had done the last two mornings, he'd be gobbler fajitas by dinner. Today was different. He hit the ground, somehow made it through or under the high fence to my side and circled me through the heavy brush at 150 yards gobbling the whole way. As I assume he wanted me to do, I finally lost my patience and moved toward him. They say that every plant in Texas will sting you or poke you, and that doesnt even count the ticks and chiggers that will bite you. I went through some of the nastiest brush imaginable. When I finally got to a 20 yard by 20 yard opening in the middle of this treeless brush expanse, I knew I was standing where he was gobbling from 10 minutes before. Of course, he was nowhere to be found. Poof, he was gone. He didnt gobble again.
Dejected, I fought my way back through the brush to the road and sat down to rest. I figured that my buddy wouldn't pick me up for another 2 hours and I might as well set up along the road even though I thought the only bird in the area was long gone. After 45 minutes of hearing nothing but songbirds, I leaned over and peeked down the dusty road. There he was, puffed up with the sun shining through his fan at 60 yards and walking toward me. He didnt break strut, he just walked step by step toward me. I eased back out of sight, took off my safety, and pointed to where he would appear. This was the exact spot where he liked to strut and if he followed his pattern, he'd be dead. After 10 minutes of nothing, I eased out again. He had done an about-face, and was still strutting slowly away at 150 yards. That is the last time I saw him- slowly disappearing from sight up that dusty road. The other hunters in camp laughed at me for chasing the same bird in the same cactus filled field that no one wanted to hunt for 3 days while we had 10,000 acres available. I think the loudest laugh came from that old gobbler. Later this month when I return to Texas, you can guess where I'll be set up the first morning and you can probably also guess how it will turn out.
This field was a long drive and hike from camp and probably didn't hold too many turkeys so until now I hadn't bothered hitting it at dawn. My logic was that if I went all the way out to this desolate cactus filled stretch and didn't hear a gobbler, the first light of the day was wasted and being that the hunters on the ranch shared a truck I would have to wait 3 hours for a pick up. On the third morning, I reconsidered and finally decided to head out at first light and wait right where I saw him the previous two days. I thought if I got there early enough, I'd ambush him as he strutted by on the road.
The next morning dawn broke to a lone gobbler sounding off 150 yards from where I sat. I knew it was him. If he did the same thing he had done the last two mornings, he'd be gobbler fajitas by dinner. Today was different. He hit the ground, somehow made it through or under the high fence to my side and circled me through the heavy brush at 150 yards gobbling the whole way. As I assume he wanted me to do, I finally lost my patience and moved toward him. They say that every plant in Texas will sting you or poke you, and that doesnt even count the ticks and chiggers that will bite you. I went through some of the nastiest brush imaginable. When I finally got to a 20 yard by 20 yard opening in the middle of this treeless brush expanse, I knew I was standing where he was gobbling from 10 minutes before. Of course, he was nowhere to be found. Poof, he was gone. He didnt gobble again.
Dejected, I fought my way back through the brush to the road and sat down to rest. I figured that my buddy wouldn't pick me up for another 2 hours and I might as well set up along the road even though I thought the only bird in the area was long gone. After 45 minutes of hearing nothing but songbirds, I leaned over and peeked down the dusty road. There he was, puffed up with the sun shining through his fan at 60 yards and walking toward me. He didnt break strut, he just walked step by step toward me. I eased back out of sight, took off my safety, and pointed to where he would appear. This was the exact spot where he liked to strut and if he followed his pattern, he'd be dead. After 10 minutes of nothing, I eased out again. He had done an about-face, and was still strutting slowly away at 150 yards. That is the last time I saw him- slowly disappearing from sight up that dusty road. The other hunters in camp laughed at me for chasing the same bird in the same cactus filled field that no one wanted to hunt for 3 days while we had 10,000 acres available. I think the loudest laugh came from that old gobbler. Later this month when I return to Texas, you can guess where I'll be set up the first morning and you can probably also guess how it will turn out.
Memories of a tough day last year
I think I will always remember opening day 2008. It was the best, and worst hunting day in recent memory.
Having exhausted all options at my hunting club and public draw hunt opportunities, I found myself driving North the night before the season at 8 PM. I had made contact with a landowner in Mendocino county through a business associate and gained agreement to hunt their turkeys. We spoke 3 weeks before the season but we didnt agree on a specific hunt day. Calls a few days before the season went unanswered. These folks are retired and unbeknownst to me had been traveling. So, I am driving along with a fairly good idea of the ranch location, but not quite sure they landowner was expecting me.
My cell phone rings and luckily the landowners are calling. They tell me to have at it and where to park. When I ask how many turkeys are on the place the answer is "a few hundred". Excuse me...a few hundred? We drive a little faster.
At dawn we finally find the hunt location and park next to the farm house (not occupied by the landowners, they have renters). We walk past some "classic" old cars and a few rusty tractors and out into the field. I recognize a pattern of oak trees from Google Earth...I think. We arent really sure if we are walking on to the right property or blatantly trespassing.
With no clue at all where to set up, I choose the biggest oak and razorback chooses a small oak 75 yards away. We dont know which way the birds might come or where to set up. We are sure we are facing away from the farm house, so it is a safe setup, but that is it.
It starts to get light. I expect a gobble. I wait 30 minutes past when they should have started sounding off. Nothing on the property...in fact the whole valley is quiet. I start to think that at 8 a Denver omellette and coffee in town are going to be on the agenda.
A gobble. Not 500 yards off, not 200 yards off, 100 yards off. They're here!!!! Another, and another, and another. They are everywhere. Twenty different birds sound off. I am ecstatic.
I see a blob 60 yards from razorback. It it a giant turkey. Not a big turkey, a giant one. 1 minute later, his gun goes off and the turkey is on the ground. That was easy. I walk over and we look at the bird. It is a big fat healthy Rio Grande turkey. We shake hands and I sit down on his tree next to him. I assume the shot scared every bird in the zip code the other direction and assume for the next 2-3 hours the hunt is over.
5 minutes pass. I see something out of the corner of my eye. Its a turkey, a big turkey. I pull up my gun as 5 turkeys walk by at 15 yards. One is a longbeard and I take my safety off. Then I see him. The white faced calf. He is at 80 yards and walking toward me. He is directly on the other side of my gobbler. I have no shot...the birds walk off.
Well, the birds arent spooked so I head off and set up near a small creek. I call a bit and here come two good sized gobblers. At 30 yards, I line up and shoot. The 870 I am using has probably taken 25 gobblers and I have missed once. Good odds and I look downward for a flopping bird. It isnt there. WHat? I loook up, line up on the birds now headed for the next zip code and shoot again. They keep running. Am I shooting blanks???
I sit there dejected for about 20 minutes and to my utter amazement, another bird walks by. What is the deal with this place? How could there be this many turkeys? Why dont they care that I am shooting all over the place? This one struts at 40 and I shoot, completely certain that I wil be walking back to the truck with him over my shoulder. He runs off. Is this the twilight zone? Is this a bad dream? Birds everywhere and my shotgun that I have shot 5000 rounds through at all types of game over the last 10 years isnt working. I look at the sights...I look at the barrel, everything seems to be in order.
Without any idea what to do next, I resolve to just sit there. I have 1 shell left (I am shooting Hevi-shot, a new heavier-than-lead alloy that I have taken 7 turkeys with). I look at the shell. The company got sold and a new company took over the brand. They wouldnt change the forumla....or would they? I still think it's me and pop the shell in the gun. 30 minutes later, there is a bird gobbling. He works his way down the creek and I turn toward him. You can guess how this story ends...a miss at 30 yards. I have now shot at more turkeys than I see in a typical season, missed them all, and its only 10 AM....on the first day of the season.
Out of ammo, I have no choice but to head back to the truck. I debate throwing my gun in the creek since if it wont shoot straight but think better of it. No one has witnessed my misses, but I am utterly embarrassed nonetheless. I am a turkey hunter. I am a sneaky bastard who has killed a lot of birds that no one else would have gotten. I belly crawl, ambush, stalk, and do whatever it takes and I almost always come back with a bird. All of that goes away and my confidence is shattered. Half of me is laughing the other half is confused. In the middle of this laughter/confusion I go to sep over the 2 foot deep creek between the truck and my current location. I slip backward, slide down the mud, and am completely submerged. It takes vast skill to fully submerge myself in such shallow water but I find a way. I head back toward the truck where razorback is napping and he wakes up as I walk up. He sees a disheveled soaking wet camo clad turkey hunter who just fired 4 shots and has no turkey over his shoulder. After laughing loudly he offers me a beer, still snickering. I throw the 870 into the truck, and without saying a word change into dry clothes,. Quite a day
The epilogue to this day was a trip the following week to the range. The "new" hevi-shot loads pattern 24 inches high and 24 inches right at 30 yards out of my gun. They cost 2 bucks a piece and my gun HATES them. I throw in some cheap walmart remington lead loads and guess what...they turn the target into swiss cheese at every distance I pattern them at. Moral of the story: dont assume your scattergun shoots the same with every load...be sure.
Having exhausted all options at my hunting club and public draw hunt opportunities, I found myself driving North the night before the season at 8 PM. I had made contact with a landowner in Mendocino county through a business associate and gained agreement to hunt their turkeys. We spoke 3 weeks before the season but we didnt agree on a specific hunt day. Calls a few days before the season went unanswered. These folks are retired and unbeknownst to me had been traveling. So, I am driving along with a fairly good idea of the ranch location, but not quite sure they landowner was expecting me.
My cell phone rings and luckily the landowners are calling. They tell me to have at it and where to park. When I ask how many turkeys are on the place the answer is "a few hundred". Excuse me...a few hundred? We drive a little faster.
At dawn we finally find the hunt location and park next to the farm house (not occupied by the landowners, they have renters). We walk past some "classic" old cars and a few rusty tractors and out into the field. I recognize a pattern of oak trees from Google Earth...I think. We arent really sure if we are walking on to the right property or blatantly trespassing.
With no clue at all where to set up, I choose the biggest oak and razorback chooses a small oak 75 yards away. We dont know which way the birds might come or where to set up. We are sure we are facing away from the farm house, so it is a safe setup, but that is it.
It starts to get light. I expect a gobble. I wait 30 minutes past when they should have started sounding off. Nothing on the property...in fact the whole valley is quiet. I start to think that at 8 a Denver omellette and coffee in town are going to be on the agenda.
A gobble. Not 500 yards off, not 200 yards off, 100 yards off. They're here!!!! Another, and another, and another. They are everywhere. Twenty different birds sound off. I am ecstatic.
I see a blob 60 yards from razorback. It it a giant turkey. Not a big turkey, a giant one. 1 minute later, his gun goes off and the turkey is on the ground. That was easy. I walk over and we look at the bird. It is a big fat healthy Rio Grande turkey. We shake hands and I sit down on his tree next to him. I assume the shot scared every bird in the zip code the other direction and assume for the next 2-3 hours the hunt is over.
5 minutes pass. I see something out of the corner of my eye. Its a turkey, a big turkey. I pull up my gun as 5 turkeys walk by at 15 yards. One is a longbeard and I take my safety off. Then I see him. The white faced calf. He is at 80 yards and walking toward me. He is directly on the other side of my gobbler. I have no shot...the birds walk off.
Well, the birds arent spooked so I head off and set up near a small creek. I call a bit and here come two good sized gobblers. At 30 yards, I line up and shoot. The 870 I am using has probably taken 25 gobblers and I have missed once. Good odds and I look downward for a flopping bird. It isnt there. WHat? I loook up, line up on the birds now headed for the next zip code and shoot again. They keep running. Am I shooting blanks???
I sit there dejected for about 20 minutes and to my utter amazement, another bird walks by. What is the deal with this place? How could there be this many turkeys? Why dont they care that I am shooting all over the place? This one struts at 40 and I shoot, completely certain that I wil be walking back to the truck with him over my shoulder. He runs off. Is this the twilight zone? Is this a bad dream? Birds everywhere and my shotgun that I have shot 5000 rounds through at all types of game over the last 10 years isnt working. I look at the sights...I look at the barrel, everything seems to be in order.
Without any idea what to do next, I resolve to just sit there. I have 1 shell left (I am shooting Hevi-shot, a new heavier-than-lead alloy that I have taken 7 turkeys with). I look at the shell. The company got sold and a new company took over the brand. They wouldnt change the forumla....or would they? I still think it's me and pop the shell in the gun. 30 minutes later, there is a bird gobbling. He works his way down the creek and I turn toward him. You can guess how this story ends...a miss at 30 yards. I have now shot at more turkeys than I see in a typical season, missed them all, and its only 10 AM....on the first day of the season.
Out of ammo, I have no choice but to head back to the truck. I debate throwing my gun in the creek since if it wont shoot straight but think better of it. No one has witnessed my misses, but I am utterly embarrassed nonetheless. I am a turkey hunter. I am a sneaky bastard who has killed a lot of birds that no one else would have gotten. I belly crawl, ambush, stalk, and do whatever it takes and I almost always come back with a bird. All of that goes away and my confidence is shattered. Half of me is laughing the other half is confused. In the middle of this laughter/confusion I go to sep over the 2 foot deep creek between the truck and my current location. I slip backward, slide down the mud, and am completely submerged. It takes vast skill to fully submerge myself in such shallow water but I find a way. I head back toward the truck where razorback is napping and he wakes up as I walk up. He sees a disheveled soaking wet camo clad turkey hunter who just fired 4 shots and has no turkey over his shoulder. After laughing loudly he offers me a beer, still snickering. I throw the 870 into the truck, and without saying a word change into dry clothes,. Quite a day
The epilogue to this day was a trip the following week to the range. The "new" hevi-shot loads pattern 24 inches high and 24 inches right at 30 yards out of my gun. They cost 2 bucks a piece and my gun HATES them. I throw in some cheap walmart remington lead loads and guess what...they turn the target into swiss cheese at every distance I pattern them at. Moral of the story: dont assume your scattergun shoots the same with every load...be sure.
Opening Morning 2009...
Opening morning found me in Mendocino county sneaking into my blind at about 5 am. I had a friend with me and another friend and his two kids headed to the other blind. One has a junior hunting license and she was hoping to take her first bird. We got in early and quietly, without touching the electric fence (a better wake up call than strong coffee I have found!). So far, so good
The weather was cold, about 40 degrees with a light wind. There was a lot of fog, which certainly didn't help things. About 6 am, I threw out a couple of light tree calls and got no response. Again at 615, with no response. I was beginning to think that maybe the birds roosted elsewhere......
About 630, later than I expected, a horse on a neighboring farm let out a whinnie......GOBBBBLLLLEEEE from about 100 yards out. A few minutes later the forest was alive with Gobbles. I heard 7 distinct groups gobbling, with 5 of them within 200 yards of my setup. The game was on......
We sat there waiting for flydown, which came at about 645. We didnt hear the birds fly down, but could tell by the change in pitch that they were on the ground. The woods got quiet very quickly, with only 3 or 4 gobbles after the flocks hit the ground. We got ready and watched the jake and hen decoys 15 yards in front of the blind. I felt fairly confident that the birds would come our way.
15 minutes later, there they were....3 giant longbeards came into the field at 80 yards. One had what appeared to be a paintbrush swinging from his breast. A "monarch" bird as my friend razorback likes to call the giant ones. They were tough to see through the fog, but it was clear they were looking our direction. Everything was coming together....so I thought.
About this time a yearling cow named "white face" by my friends kids saunters over and stares my decoy in the face. He's been in the field with us all morning but chose this moment to come by. He stares at my decoy and then gives it the biggest lick ever, knocking it off its base. The gobblers stop in their tracks. He then uses the stake to scratch his ears, eventually breaking it off. That leaves one other decoy which quickly gets the same treatment. The gobblers walk, then trot, then sprint away toward the other blind. So much for a bird in the truck by 730.
It appears that the birds are going to cross the creek near my other blind where razorback and his kids are set up so all is not lost. About 2 minutes later BOOM, I hear his daughters freshly bought and recently sighted in Remington 870 youth 20 gauge sound off. I expect to hear shouting, giggling, or some sort of happy kid sounds. I hear nothing. About 5 minutes later I get an email on my blackberry that the birds came in to 20 yards...and the youngster missed. Shooting a turkey is no easy task and everyone misses. Some of us have elevated it to an art form so I cant fault her too much. The rest of the morning was completely quiet, with a few birds spotted in the distance. After a lunch break, we returned and the same "3 amigos" were sauntering through the field. They had no interest in any calls we threw at them.
Sun AM was a lot quieter. The weather was the same but the gobbling was minimal. Not a single bird entered our field. After a couple of Red Tail beers (hey, I wasnt driving so who cares), we headed back to the bay area with no turkeys in the truck. Looking forward to my next trip up.
The weather was cold, about 40 degrees with a light wind. There was a lot of fog, which certainly didn't help things. About 6 am, I threw out a couple of light tree calls and got no response. Again at 615, with no response. I was beginning to think that maybe the birds roosted elsewhere......
About 630, later than I expected, a horse on a neighboring farm let out a whinnie......GOBBBBLLLLEEEE from about 100 yards out. A few minutes later the forest was alive with Gobbles. I heard 7 distinct groups gobbling, with 5 of them within 200 yards of my setup. The game was on......
We sat there waiting for flydown, which came at about 645. We didnt hear the birds fly down, but could tell by the change in pitch that they were on the ground. The woods got quiet very quickly, with only 3 or 4 gobbles after the flocks hit the ground. We got ready and watched the jake and hen decoys 15 yards in front of the blind. I felt fairly confident that the birds would come our way.
15 minutes later, there they were....3 giant longbeards came into the field at 80 yards. One had what appeared to be a paintbrush swinging from his breast. A "monarch" bird as my friend razorback likes to call the giant ones. They were tough to see through the fog, but it was clear they were looking our direction. Everything was coming together....so I thought.
About this time a yearling cow named "white face" by my friends kids saunters over and stares my decoy in the face. He's been in the field with us all morning but chose this moment to come by. He stares at my decoy and then gives it the biggest lick ever, knocking it off its base. The gobblers stop in their tracks. He then uses the stake to scratch his ears, eventually breaking it off. That leaves one other decoy which quickly gets the same treatment. The gobblers walk, then trot, then sprint away toward the other blind. So much for a bird in the truck by 730.
It appears that the birds are going to cross the creek near my other blind where razorback and his kids are set up so all is not lost. About 2 minutes later BOOM, I hear his daughters freshly bought and recently sighted in Remington 870 youth 20 gauge sound off. I expect to hear shouting, giggling, or some sort of happy kid sounds. I hear nothing. About 5 minutes later I get an email on my blackberry that the birds came in to 20 yards...and the youngster missed. Shooting a turkey is no easy task and everyone misses. Some of us have elevated it to an art form so I cant fault her too much. The rest of the morning was completely quiet, with a few birds spotted in the distance. After a lunch break, we returned and the same "3 amigos" were sauntering through the field. They had no interest in any calls we threw at them.
Sun AM was a lot quieter. The weather was the same but the gobbling was minimal. Not a single bird entered our field. After a couple of Red Tail beers (hey, I wasnt driving so who cares), we headed back to the bay area with no turkeys in the truck. Looking forward to my next trip up.
Turkey Season preparation 2009
My preparations for Turkey season 2009 began a week before the season. I got permission from the landowner at my Mendocino County hot spot to leave permanent blinds for the season. This is great news and really helps on a property this small. Typically the birds roost within 100 yards of my favorite setups and toting in a hub-style blind and setting up in the pre-dawn causes far too much noise.
So, a week before the season I headed up with my blinds and cow fencing to protect the blinds from the mischievous cows. I had memories of last season where I snuck in 40 minutes before first light to find my blind trampled into the mud and unusable. This year the blind will have 3 strand barbed wire all the way around and hopefully that keeps the cows at bay. I managed to get the blinds in place, the fence up, and the ghillie nets over them in a few hours. The only thing that didnt go as planned was the poison oak that hit me the Monday after. I havent ever seen poison oak like there is on this ranch. Its 3 inch thick vines that grow up into the oak trees and then come out along each branch. So you can easily get hit in the face when walking through low hanging oak tree branches. Surprise, I got some on my cheeks and eyes. A trip to the doctor and some prednisone pills and I was back in action a few days later.
So, a week before the season I headed up with my blinds and cow fencing to protect the blinds from the mischievous cows. I had memories of last season where I snuck in 40 minutes before first light to find my blind trampled into the mud and unusable. This year the blind will have 3 strand barbed wire all the way around and hopefully that keeps the cows at bay. I managed to get the blinds in place, the fence up, and the ghillie nets over them in a few hours. The only thing that didnt go as planned was the poison oak that hit me the Monday after. I havent ever seen poison oak like there is on this ranch. Its 3 inch thick vines that grow up into the oak trees and then come out along each branch. So you can easily get hit in the face when walking through low hanging oak tree branches. Surprise, I got some on my cheeks and eyes. A trip to the doctor and some prednisone pills and I was back in action a few days later.
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