Wild turkey hunters tend to stick to certain tried-and-true setups and let patience do the rest. This can work wonders, but there are also times you need to flip over the menu and be flexible. Big toms don’t get long beards and long spurs by making mistakes. They will do the unexpected, and a hunter needs to be ready. Here are a few of my experiences and techniques to help you punch that turkey tag this spring.
The Ground Game
Last spring, I started the morning in a blind, with a pair of decoys out front and me inside, working a box call. I had a few responses, but I could see a group of birds, with a couple gobblers working the main part of the field about 800 yards away. There was a grassy point that stuck out close to where the birds were, but it had no trees or fence.
When the birds moved into a nearby grove of trees, I packed up my gear and made a stalk toward the grassy point. It took a long time to get there, as I wanted to stay low and not provide a profile the turkeys might see. However, once at the grassy point, there was a bit of slope that made a good backrest. My vantage point on the right side of the point was the expansive field the birds had been in, while the other side of the point faced another large field I’d been looking at with my blind.
After an hour, I checked my phone and had a text from one of my hunting partners. He said he had driven by the field I’d been in earlier, and a flock of birds was in the middle of it. Basically, the birds were in the field I’d left, but heading my way. So, I adjusted my seating so I could watch for them. The long grass was a problem, though, as it blocked my view. I couldn’t see as much as I’d like.
After a short time, a couple hens appeared, and they were moving my way. A couple of gobbles sounded behind them, and I knew the toms were close. I couldn’t see them, but suddenly a white-and-red head popped up above the grass like a periscope. It was a gobbler, about 30 yards from me. The gobbler’s head dropped, and I lifted the shotgun and pointed it toward the edge of the grass. Moments later, that white gobbler head was up, neck fully exposed, and I dropped the hammer.
At the blast of the shotgun, I could see a few other gobblers and hens start running out into the field. Once the birds cleared out, I slowly got up and went to look. There, laying on the edge of the field, was the largest gobbler I’d ever seen. It had a long, thick beard, and impressive spurs. It had been a very unorthodox hunt, but my placement on the ground and in that grass allowed the flexibility to make the adjustments needed to take that gobbler.
Hunt in All the Weather
One of the very first gobbler hunts I ever took part in happened on a very cold, snowy late-April day. My hunting partner, who had been on a handful more turkey hunts than me, was not super enthusiastic about heading out into the snow that morning. He was also mildly hung over after we had been up late telling tales in the motel room. My head wasn’t quite as sore, but the idea of sitting on the ground, with the snow stinging my face, was not that enthralling. Yet we were there to hunt, and so we headed out, wearing every piece of clothing we had brought.
We decided to hunt together and take turns calling, with the other guy shooting. We walked to the corner of the field, which seemed to have the least amount of wind. Since my partner had a sore head, he didn’t want to call. I got on the box call as he nestled into the edge of the field against a big oak. A few scrapes of the wooden box call sent the cluck of a hen turkey into the snow-filled air. To say our expectations were low would be an understatement. After about 15 minutes, the box call was scraped again.
Then, from the forest behind us—“gobble, gobble!”
My partner looked at me with shock and awe. I could tell his hangover was suddenly gone. He pointed toward where the gobble came from and set the gun up. After a few minutes, another gobble could be heard. It echoed through the snowy morning and sent a chill up both our spines. Within minutes, a gobbler appeared from the snow like a ghost. It was in full display, tail fan whipping in the wind. My partner put the shotgun to his shoulder, and when the big tom went to gobble, he pulled the trigger and dropped it at 35 yards.
Moments later, standing over the bird that was already getting covered with snow, we shook our heads in disbelief. This was not a scenario either of us imagined, but it had happened. A little snow was not enough to put a lovestruck gobbler off its game.
Sometimes you have to be flexible—and lucky—to punch a turkey tag.
