I woke without an alarm at 5:30 on Wednesday morning last week before I got up to go turkey hunting. Anyway, I started my coffee and got my turkey camo on. It was 44 degrees out. I was tying up my boot laces when Ellen cracked the porch door and wished me good luck. I grabbed my filled thermos and headed out. The eastern skyline was already starting to silhouette the ridge top as I drove up the coulee.
Up top, I quietly finished getting my camo on and cocked my cross bow. I filled up a cup with hot coffee and just listened. There was a fickle breeze/wind from the southeast; I put up my hood against it. I heard a gobble that I couldn’t locate and then another came from the south. I gulped my coffee, shouldered my kit and seat cushion, and my crossbow and headed down the ridge road to the far end of our property. I spooked a few whitetails along the way. Two watched me from a couple hundred yards for awhile before trotting toward me and then bolting right at my truck. When they saw that they turned again and I could see their bounding namesakes all the way to the Oak Stand.
Had I been deer hunting, I might have had a shot when I came over one rise. The critter didn’t notice me until I was 20 yards away!
I set up against a wide box elder tree that had downed trunks around it that I hoped would conceal me. I loaded a bolt (crossbow arrow) and pulled on my gloves and face mask. I used one of my Knight and Hale push calls first and then put it down. There were chickadees and nuthatches feeding all around. Robins scoured the bean field in front of me for breakfast. I could hear crows in the distance and some sandhill cranes gronked their way overhead. I heard the beep beep of Marissa’s early school bus turning around in our driveway down in the coulee. I tried calling once more with my other Knight and Hale call. I am not making this up: it started to sleet, little ice crystals bouncing off my boots and clothes. I was able to tell the time when I heard the beeping of the De Soto bus picking up Jake, Pearl and Kelly. I heard two gobbles close by. “Jakes,” I thought. I got my crossbow up on my leg and waited. Nothing. After half-an-hour, I had to put the bow back on the log beside me. It is heavy, heavier even than Wilma, my .10 gauge turkey special. I had no sooner put my weapon down when a hen started putting in the woods behind me. Cool. I hoped it might be a Jezebel and attract a tom to the spot for me. The hen’s calling got agitated with loud putting and cutting at times. I wonder if it was angry that “I” didn’t respond to it. Anyway, I caught a movement along the field out of the corner of my eye. “Coyote!” I froze and waited as old Wily came trotting along the woods ears up, looking for that hen I think. When it went behind a tree between us, I started to raise up the crossbow. Coyotes don’t get old being dumb and this one swapped ends and fled the scene in a streak. Oblivious to the drama in the field, the hen kept cutting and coming closer. It was maybe ten feet from me in the woods when it squawked out turkey talk for “Houston, we have a problem!” and flew up into a tree and then raucously exited stage left. The jig was up.
Anyway, I realized that my one cup of coffee was running out of mojo, so I walked back to the pickup. I saw one bird in a neighbor’s field and more deer. I had breakfast on my mind, so I headed home.
When I got back in, Ellen was excited to hear my story because she could hear gobblers going crazy right up behind our house. She thought I might have still been driving up the ridge. She was right. I sure didn’t hear much. Such is turkey hunting though. I will just have to get up earlier.
On Friday morning, we were shocked awake when the alarm started squawking at 5:00 AM. (Retired people should actually put their alarms on Craigslist or in a landfill.) Anyway, the doggone thing still worked. I filled a mug with coffee and kissed my better half goodbye, and by 5:20, I was heading north to fish at Redwing and El was heading south to Madison to the Midwest Horse Fair with her sisters Barb and Kathy.
I like the early morning BBC news from Europe and Canada. One gets the world news without the near constant obsession of the political circus here. I met Gordie Hierlmeier in Hagar City. We put in at Everett’s Landing where we bought some minnows and inquired after the fishing. “The fish are in the river,” was about as good as the bait shop guy had this day. We motored down river into a rising south wind. We started drifting and jigging near the mouth of Hay Creek. Gordie hooked a heavy sheepshead but for a while the walleyes eluded us. Then I snagged a log. The log started to move! I didn’t think it felt like a sheepshead. The fish pulled hard and took some line. I was thinking catfish or carp for some reason. When I finally fought it near the surface, Gordie told me later he thought it was a carp. With a flip of its white tail, it revealed itself as a dandy walleye. I was able to get it close to the boat and his net. We were both amazed. After admiring and photographing the beautiful green and still egg-filled mama, we weighed it - ten pounds exactly; the tape measure showed it was about 27.5 inches long. (The biggest walleye I ever landed before this was 8.8 pounds when I was fishing and drifting in the ice flows below the dam at Genoa one February back in the late 80’s with Steve Trussoni.) I released this one too. My day was made. If we had had a cooler of beer, I might have quit fishing and just basked in the sun and watched Gordie fish I think. By early afternoon we took a cruise through some backwater down to Lake Pepin before taking out and getting some lunch at the Bluffs Bar and Grill. I had a really good fish sandwich with fries and slaw. We had solved the problems of the world and caught up on our families. Great friend, great fish, great day; it don’t git no better.
Mountain Man Ben, got his first Colorado wild turkey on Thursday. He and his friends were hunting an hour and a half up a dirt mountain road in the foothills in Central Colorado near Grand Junction. The birds, Merriams (there are also Rio Grande subspecies turkeys in Colorado) were high up at the edge of the crunchy snow line. He told me one guy went down into a rocky draw while he managed a belly crawl stalk in some grass to get close enough to set up his successful shot. His buddy Drew was using an Elk Reel call to attract the bird. Sounds like a great hunt with good friends, congrats, Son. It don’t git no better.
Until next time, get out - finally, Ellen and I want to wish a huge get-well to our old friend Lawrence Oldenberg of Chaseburg who is recovering from a recent car accident. We visited him in the hospital and though he is beaten up some, his always positive attitude shown through. You can’t keep a good man down. Enjoy.
No comments:
Post a Comment