squirrel
Well-known member
- Joined
- Dec 29, 2013
- Messages
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It's snowing hard, but there have got to be a few of you out there itching for spring turkeys (the scratching of tick welts is a different story). Here is something to help bridge the gap, for entertainment purposes of the members here.
A Perfect "10" The Bo Derek Gobbler
The hardest part of hunting where there is any number of turkeys in CO. is drawing a tag. To summarize the turkey policy of CO, if there are no turkeys anywhere close to where you are going, then you can get two tags every year over the counter. Of course your only chance to actually fill one of those tags, let alone both, is if you stop into the frozen section of City Market… but you can hunt to your heart’s content for two where there are none. My hunt starts with the most important 10… as in ten points to draw the tag. This got me a tag to hunt close to home and where there are both turkeys, and few ticks, a lovely combination, after having been eaten up in several riparian turkey environs in the eastern part of the state, that also take about as many points to draw.
I had spent long winter hours playing at making some box calls. It turned out to be a little bit addictive, like eating potato chips. I had several woods to work with and it started with a hunk of leftover wall tent firewood from Kansas of osage orange, then some red cedar from Arkansas from a long dead log I found while hiking there, and its twin white cedar which I could not get to work. Then it was cherry, mahogany, walnut, teak… it got a little carried away. Pretty soon I was forbidden to make so much as another cluck in the royal castle under penalty of having my spurs forcibly removed by she-who-must–be -obeyed… I can only carry so many calls with me, so gave away a bunch to family and friends, keeping a few favorites that were either just too pretty, or too turkey’ish to let go.
IMG_1175 by squirrel2012, on Flickr
The spring was one of the snowiest ever and the first week in mid-April was one big blizzard. I thought this would work to my advantage, as they are concentrated for winter range, and as the snow melts they just melt away up into the endless high country where their sparse numbers combine with huge numbers of square miles to make it into a needle in a hay stack proposition. I worked some gobblers where I have usually found them with little success, and was quick to move up and out from the winter range when the sign said they were not there in any great number. As I drove back down after getting blasted by heavy snow I saw 3 gobblers next to the road chasing bugs in a field, and parked after driving by and came in from a half mile or so and set up in the pinions. A few calls later the blizzard from above settled in and was coating everything in a thick layer of white. I had about an inch of perfect snow camo on me as the three come silently in, looking for the hen. No beards were visible as they were jakes but they gave me quite a show for an hour in the blizzard as they fed in a circle around me from 5 -25 yards away, never uttering a sound. I was pleased that my half bushel of calls had fooled them so completely, and after they had walked away I got my numb legs working again and packed the half bushel of calls up and went back to the truck.
As often as work would allow I was out chasing them in the hills, always in fresh sign, seldom seeing or hearing a thing, it was a rough spring, not a day went by without several snow squalls. It was a tough year for chasing gobbles. Finally I set up and got an immediate hot gobble from way up on the mountain above me, sneaking around a juniper I glassed the hill and saw a strutting long beard a half mile away, made a long roundabout stalk and set up at nearly his elevation, but his answer indicated he had climbed at the same rate I had. Nuts, I’m screwed, I thought, and then he launched and sailed right in from 5-600ft above me landing on an open point about 100 yards away. He gobbled a couple times on landing and I answered softly he deflated and headed my way. I was about to finally score!! And then he just flat disappeared… no sign, no sound, it was just over.
The vertical nature of these Merriam's habitat is in stark contrast to the timbered ridges most turkey hunters are familiar with. It is huge and very challenging.
IMG_1133 by squirrel2012, on Flickr
IMG_1135 by squirrel2012, on Flickr
IMG_1136 by squirrel2012, on Flickr
A Perfect "10" The Bo Derek Gobbler
The hardest part of hunting where there is any number of turkeys in CO. is drawing a tag. To summarize the turkey policy of CO, if there are no turkeys anywhere close to where you are going, then you can get two tags every year over the counter. Of course your only chance to actually fill one of those tags, let alone both, is if you stop into the frozen section of City Market… but you can hunt to your heart’s content for two where there are none. My hunt starts with the most important 10… as in ten points to draw the tag. This got me a tag to hunt close to home and where there are both turkeys, and few ticks, a lovely combination, after having been eaten up in several riparian turkey environs in the eastern part of the state, that also take about as many points to draw.
I had spent long winter hours playing at making some box calls. It turned out to be a little bit addictive, like eating potato chips. I had several woods to work with and it started with a hunk of leftover wall tent firewood from Kansas of osage orange, then some red cedar from Arkansas from a long dead log I found while hiking there, and its twin white cedar which I could not get to work. Then it was cherry, mahogany, walnut, teak… it got a little carried away. Pretty soon I was forbidden to make so much as another cluck in the royal castle under penalty of having my spurs forcibly removed by she-who-must–be -obeyed… I can only carry so many calls with me, so gave away a bunch to family and friends, keeping a few favorites that were either just too pretty, or too turkey’ish to let go.
IMG_1175 by squirrel2012, on FlickrThe spring was one of the snowiest ever and the first week in mid-April was one big blizzard. I thought this would work to my advantage, as they are concentrated for winter range, and as the snow melts they just melt away up into the endless high country where their sparse numbers combine with huge numbers of square miles to make it into a needle in a hay stack proposition. I worked some gobblers where I have usually found them with little success, and was quick to move up and out from the winter range when the sign said they were not there in any great number. As I drove back down after getting blasted by heavy snow I saw 3 gobblers next to the road chasing bugs in a field, and parked after driving by and came in from a half mile or so and set up in the pinions. A few calls later the blizzard from above settled in and was coating everything in a thick layer of white. I had about an inch of perfect snow camo on me as the three come silently in, looking for the hen. No beards were visible as they were jakes but they gave me quite a show for an hour in the blizzard as they fed in a circle around me from 5 -25 yards away, never uttering a sound. I was pleased that my half bushel of calls had fooled them so completely, and after they had walked away I got my numb legs working again and packed the half bushel of calls up and went back to the truck.
As often as work would allow I was out chasing them in the hills, always in fresh sign, seldom seeing or hearing a thing, it was a rough spring, not a day went by without several snow squalls. It was a tough year for chasing gobbles. Finally I set up and got an immediate hot gobble from way up on the mountain above me, sneaking around a juniper I glassed the hill and saw a strutting long beard a half mile away, made a long roundabout stalk and set up at nearly his elevation, but his answer indicated he had climbed at the same rate I had. Nuts, I’m screwed, I thought, and then he launched and sailed right in from 5-600ft above me landing on an open point about 100 yards away. He gobbled a couple times on landing and I answered softly he deflated and headed my way. I was about to finally score!! And then he just flat disappeared… no sign, no sound, it was just over.
The vertical nature of these Merriam's habitat is in stark contrast to the timbered ridges most turkey hunters are familiar with. It is huge and very challenging.
IMG_1133 by squirrel2012, on FlickrIMG_1135 by squirrel2012, on FlickrIMG_1136 by squirrel2012, on Flickr
