Here in the Frozen North, for most of outdoorsy types, April is a difficult month. The transition from winter mode to summer mode, it’s sort of like the spring time change.. it shouldn’t be a big deal but it is, and it sneaks up on you. Winter sports, here in Minnesota involve the thrill of cheating death as you drive a 2000 lb vehicle across frozen lakes where three months prior boats were bobbing around. No matter how many times you’ve heard the cracking sound ice makes when you’re driving on it, or for that matter when you’re just sitting on it and it’s freezing and thawing and shifting, its always a bit disconcerting.
By April, the ice on the lakes is on longer safe, I’m sorry I’m just not one of those guys who is going to walk across a ladder placed across the open water at the edge of the lake, to get in one last day of ice fishing, no matter how well the panfish are biting. Thank you. Since the lakes aren’t going to open up around here until much later in April, and since the fishing seasons for gamefish are closed until later in May, a sportsman’s mind drifts to trout fishing and, the king of spring sports, turkey hunting.
The story of turkey’s in Minnesota is one the great conservation success stories, on par with the bald eagle and peregrine falcon. The wild turkey was extirpated from Minnesota in the early 1900’s. To be honest, their numbers were never that great here, even back in the “old” days, Minnesota being on the very northern end of their range. At their widest distribution they were only found in the southeastern corner of the state, in the bluff country along the Mississippi river. In the 1970’s the Department of Natural Resources began a reintroduction program to bring the birds back to their original range, with the cautious hope that one day they might become numerous enough that a limited hunting season could be offered.. Birds were brought in from Missouri, I think they were swapped for loons or Schell beer or something. Anyway, from the original 50 odd birds released in 1970, we now have an estimated population in the state of 70,000 birds. Their range now goes well beyond their original distribution expanding through the Twin Cities and into central Minnesota, areas where most biologists didn’t think they could survive.
They’re so many birds around here that the sight of flocks of the prehistoric looking birds feeding on side of roads and in fields is commonplace. In some suburbs they’ve even become a problem, chasing kids and mailmen as they defend “their” yards and territories. It’s come to the point where it’s rare that I don’t see a couple birds on my way to and from work. Even seems that about once a year or so there is a local story about some wayward tom getting into somebody’s house, either flying through a window or strolling in a back door and, upon being surprised by a person, (actually I’m guessing both parties were somewhat shocked) do what any 25lb bird with an 6’ wing span would do.. trash the place.
Against this background of abundance, it would seem easy enough to leap to the conclusion that turkey hunting would be not all that tough.
Enter Joe.
I have a good friend here, Joe, who also fancies himself a bit of a sportsman. Joe also has the tremendous fortune of having a sister who married a guy who’s family owns about 200 acres of farmland in the heart of the turkey belt. This spot is so good, that I can honestly say I’ve never been out there and NOT seen birds. You’d think it was a turkey sanctuary it that good.
One of the reasons Joe is such a good friend, is that he and I are an awful lot alike in many many ways, and most of them, not good. Joe, like me, has, despite his best efforts, an attention span of about 10 minutes on any given topic. He also, like me, has way to much going on in his life, and his mind, to worry to much about details. He also, like me, prefers to roll with things as they come as opposed to creating a plan and executing to it.
Which, is a bit of problem for turkey hunting, as it happens in Minnesota, in order to participate in the spring hunt you have to apply by entering a drawing for a permit. And, you have to apply by December 1st. This little fact of preplanning alone kept Joe and I out of the sport for two years as we couldn’t remember to get into the store and apply for a permit until the day before we wanted to go hunting. The other thing is you have to know, five months ahead of time, the weekend that you want to go hunting to make sure you go for the right mini-season. That’s a lot to know for a married guy.
The last several years Joe and I have been lucky enough to draw a permit and as such, have also by the grace of G-d been able to free up the weekend we actually signed up for. We did learn however, once again being idiots, that the first two years we were out there hunting that we did in fact, have the wrong tags. The state of Minnesota, to better manage local populations of birds, has the state broken up into small zones. Hunters are required to select their spot by zone and by 4 day window of time. Because we apparently can’t read a map, coupled by Joes lack of knowledge as to exactly where his property is.. we were licensed in the wrong zone. Good thing the good Lord saw fit to keep us killing anything those first few years. Little did we know we’d be basking in His continence for a long time to come. I mean come on, we’re all researched and all studied up and such, and still neither one of us has exactly shot one. Here the deal..
Spring turkey hunting is one of those great outdoor experiences that you read about in Outdoor Life and Field and Stream. In the spring you are specifically targeting the male, or gobbler turkeys. When the weather warms these birds start to assemble their harems of hens and start the process of making new turkeys. The goal then, is to convince these love struck birds to come within about 40 yards of your shotgun, while you are hiding in woods, in full camo, camo scarf over your face, gloves, shoes, wrapping around your gun, sitting as still as you can, twitching away on a call, trying to sound like the worlds sluttiest turkey hen.
Turkey hunters spend a great deal of time with their calls, trying to imitate the sultry tones of a female bird looking for some action. The also learn to imitate gobblers, owls and crows, as male turkeys will answer to all of these calls.. the other thing we study is how the big birds spend their day. Turkeys typically roost in a tree overnight, typically the same one several nights in a row, dropping out of the tree at the first crack of dawn to feed and warm up, and then spend the rest of the day walking around looking for new hens, with whom they haven’t yet had the pleasure, who would like to join their extended family. Sort of like what’s been going in Texas these last few weeks. We hunters are required to scout the land a bit before we go out, see where they’re roosting, see where the big girls hang out, and then figure out where we want to set up the ambush in the morning.
The right way is to do it is to be settled into position and ready go about ½ hour before sunrise. That’s the first impediment to our success. I’m an early riser, but only to a point. Joe, like me, same deal. Since it’s about an hour drive to the property from our house, and since the first rays of the new day crack the horizon at about 4:45 in April in Minnesota, we’d have to be up and on the road at about 3:45 to get to the spot on time. We typically arrive about 6:30, some years closer to 8:00.
This year, we thought we had it nailed. Arriving earlier than we’d ever arrived before. We were, for the first time actually walking into the field by 5:00. It was mostly dark. We were quite proud of ourselves. We put on the gear, grabbed the guns and the shells. BTW, Note that I bought I box of 5 turkey loads about 7 years ago for my first hunt.. I’m proud to say that as evidence of my success in the field, I am is still carrying those same 5 shells into the field, they’ve become a part of me. Strolling into the woods we were chatting about what were going to different this year, as opposed to the previous 8, when we didn’t get birds. Mistake #1. Stealth walking into a turkey blind under a roost is just not the time to be engaged in conversation, but the fact is, we couldn’t shut up. Walking into the woods we arrived at the roost just in time to see the last startled bird fly off into the dawn, awakened and flushed by our conversation. “Wow, I didn’t know they could fly that well” Joe remarked as the 30lb gobbler tookoff into the predawn sky. That’s amazing. Yeah that’s what it is all right.
I looked at Joe with a bit of a pained face.. “they’ll be back”. “Really” he asked? “Why, because they want to go back bed or something?” Good point. We promptly set some decoys and plopped down with our backs to trees. The secret of turkey hunting is patience. Waiting quietly.. not something a couple guys with ADD are any good at. We lasted about 15 minutes.
“see the Twins game list night?” “Yup..” and off we went chatting. About an hour into the day, we had seen some birds but for some reason they wouldn’t get more than about 100 yards away. “They’re looking at our decoys”… “they’re answering our calls but they’re hung up for some reason. They don’t want to come in.” “Maybe, it’s because we’re talking”, “could be, maybe it’s ‘cause you’ve gotten up twice Sank”. My ass hurts.. That and the curse. There’s two things that always happen when I settle into a difficult blind.. 1) I have to crap.. never freakn fails and 2) I start thinking about ticks. Ticks become active in the spring and we turkey hunters are their favorite things. When I’m sitting in the woods trying my best to be silent I start imagining little sensations on my skin that I’m sure are ticks. They’re everywhere, crawling all over me and… AGGG I gotta get for a second. That being said, my concern is legit, my personal record after a hunt is 12 found. Not as many I’ve after falling asleep on a stream bank flyfishing one time.. but then again, I was in a short sleeve shirt at that time and there was more delicious Sank flesh exposed. And the there was the first year in the field. I came in the house, still in full camo, sat on the sofa for a spell, got up and was promptly greeted my Mrs S screaming. There were three or four of the little devils crawling on the furniture after I got up. Now I have to get undressed in the garage.
Meanwhile, back in the field the great white short attention-spanned hunters decided to shut up
There’s a religious feeling about being in the woods early in the morning, hearing the birds, the occasional gobble in the distance, the coyote calling.. it’ so peaceful. The wind in the trees… the passing….. of…. time …… I remember thinking “how long have I been here?” Looking at the watch, about 10 minutes. Then 5 minutes more.. then another 5.
Something about quiet and stillness cause me to have some bad thoughts. I started staring at my decoy in a weird way. When you’re holding a gauge with 2 shot, bored, staring a plastic bird for 3 hours, your mind starts to ask “I wonder what would happen if just…” What the heck, I’d like to know if these old shells still work. As I was lining up the bead on the old girl Joe intervened, .. “Don’t..” ‘Don’t what?” I asked.. hoping I hadn’t transmitted my demented thought. “Don’t shoot your decoy.. I’m thinking shooting a decoy on purpose is a serious sign of mental issues. Then again”, Joe said, “I was thinking the same thing myself.” Boredom.
I stopped thinking and started hunting, which in this case looks a lot like meditating. I actually started enjoying the quiet, thinking about coffee, home, Mrs S.. … and Joe for some freakinsh reason.
I was thinking about Joe I realized, because he was hissing at me.. “Dude… DUDE.” I could hear him, but I couldn’t’ answer for some reason.. “GARY” at that I opened my eyes just in time to see a tom fly off my decoy. If she were real, she’d have been smoking a cigarette by then. I missed the whole thing completely. .. Looking at my watch, I was a bit surprised to see that 35 minutes had passed since the last time I looked at it. That,and my back was killing me.
Joe got up and walked around the tree to me shaking his head.. “ Oh My G-d. You totally missed your chance.. YOU were freak’n out cold“ Apparently I’d been sleeping. I looked up at him through blurry sleepy eyes, “Shees man, why didn’t you take a shot at it?” Turns out Joe woke up just before I did. Looking at the watch it was about 8:30. Should we move? We decided to move to another field, on the way back to the car, we also decided to go to a nearby coffee shop and get some breakfast and coffee before settling in again.. let’s go eat and come back. Famous last words.
The part of Minnesota we were hunting in is in transition from rural country to suburban sprawl. There are some nice new homes out there, and we’re pretty certain there aren’t going to be a lot years left where we can hunt this property. Yuppies don’t like to see guys in full camo, carrying guns, walking on their roads, no matter how much the hunters make during the workweek.
Well if they don’t like them on their roads, they especially don’t like to see them in their Perkins Coffee Shops, which is exactly where Joe and I went. Imagine the waiting area.. young couples with kids, older couples and folks dressed up for golf or tennis and two guys in head to toe camo, unshaven, dirt and mud caked on their boots, waiting for table. The stares were excellent.
Taking our table I ran to the bathroom. On the way back I noted that the floor in this place was sort of dirty. Unusual for a Perkins. Joe got up to use the toilet and on the way back I saw the cleaning guy following behind him with a bucket. Apparently, all the dirt on the floor was from our boots. Whoops. After a breakfast of pancakes, eggs, coffee and juice, we headed back out the field. Arriving on the service road to the field we were going to hunt we flushed a flock of about 6 birds as we pulled in.
Sitting there staring at the spot where the birds were.. I looked at Joe and shook my head..
“You know Joe, I’ve got some things today..” “Me too”. He said, “I don’t think we’re going see those birds again”, “Neither do I”.
“Joe” I said. “Yeah” he replied looking out into the now empty field sort of forelorn. “Joe, this just me talking here, but we just might have to come to the conclusion, that we suck at this”.
“That’s what I was thinking”.
