Well, turkey camp has come and gone. It was a quick 3 hunts and 2 nights.
Things started out around 330am Thursday morning. I had a hockey game Wednesday night with a 1015 start time (and I was feeling my age), so I didn't get much sleep before the alarm rousted me. I made a quick pint of coffee and grabbed a biscuit and drove out the hour and 45 minutes to the mountain to hunt the morning. I got to the parking area just at first light and noticed another truck in the lot. My brother was already at camp with his inlaw Walter and I assumed they were somewhere as well. I started down the road to hike about a ¼ mile to the top while scanning the trees for roosted birds and texted the group I was there. Our friend Jeff responded back that he was also out in the woods, and I soon came across his blind and decoys and we quickly chatted. He was in the area I was thinking of, so I told him I would go down the fire road to hunt the old farm field. I got there and was relieved I didn't wear more layers as the it was hot and buggy. I found a boulder and set up on the field edge. I had decided to hunt this weekend with the shotgun due to the pressure this area gets from the PA hunters and last years experiences. I called a bit and soon a form melted into view... another hunter. He came up on me and we chatted a bit and went our separate ways. He said there was another car in the lot he started at and neither of us had heard a peep yet. I slow hunted back along the ridge but never heard or saw a thing. I checked out my mushroom patch before leaving, but there were no morels either. I went back to camp at noon. Was this going to be a challenging camp?
Back at camp I had some chili and set up my tipi. Nobody saw much, there were some feathers in the lot so I figured some hunting pressure had taken a bird last week. Chris went to take a nap and I went 45 minutes back down the road to fish for trout at a stocked stream. I got there to very low water conditions and a thick scummy algae over most of the roads and floating away on the top. There was only one deep hole and all the fish were there. I saw a big 3 pound rainbow and a couple 17 inchers cruising. They were rising occasionally to something small. The current was very slow, there was floating scum, and the wind was blowing the surface stuff upstream. Difficult conditions. I was using a dry fly with a small midge. Very difficult to fish as I would hook scum or catch it on the drift. I did have the big boy do a quadruple take on my caddis, but he didn't take the bait. I fished for over 2 hours and only caught one 7 incher that I put back on the midge dropper. The rest of the stream was very low and shallow.
Back at camp our friend Jeff made us some antelope backstrap and it was delicious! Definitely the hit of the weekend food wise. My brother decided to give me our grandfather's box call. I had no idea Chris had this, and I didn't even know my grandfather hunted turkey. I knew he was a big squirrel hunter. How cool! The call was stamped 1958! It sounded great too. I decided I would use it the rest of the trip.
The next morning I decided to hunt the back side of the mountain walking from camp. It was warm and I was hunting in a light t shirt pretty much. I was ¼ of the way up the mountain as it was getting light and I finally heard some gobbling off to the left and up high. So, I headed in that general direction going up a hogback between two creek bottoms. I would sneak a bit, make a few soft clucks with grandpas box, and scan the trees and listen. I finally got up to within sight of the ridge top. The gobbling was still going on when I heard the gunshot. Then all was quiet. I was approaching the last bench before the top, and I had planned to sit up there and wait. While I was about 100 yards short, I made my couple clucks and listened...then continued to the bench edge. I found a good-sized tree and sat down against it, took grandpas call out of my pocket and placed it on my leg and settled in. I was about to make my first calling sequence when I hear steps over my right shoulder. I was pretty sure I would see a deer standing there, but 45 yards away was a blue headed Tom! I felt the need to get to my knees and turn to raise the gun, looking back I should have simply shifted the gun and shot him with my left hand (now that I am bow shooting left this would be easy). As I turned it saw me and started running before cruising down the mountain! You dolt, you blew it again. Why can't I be patient and think. I figured this bird heard my last call and was scanning down the slope that way, I bumbled into a great opportunity. Anyway, it was great to have that chance! The others saw no birds.
On the way out I found a great high mountain meadow with a nice, trail that had turkey sign all over it. I sat there for a bit and had a huge donkey doe walk by me with 2 yearlings. She passed by in bow range and I had some excitement thinking it was a turkey coming up the hill.
Back at camp I thawed out 2 bags of pheasant and chukar legs, and slow cooked them in the dutch oven with potatoes to soak up the gravy. Yum!
At this point our friends Dave and Evan decided to cancel and would not be joining us. Jeff had to leave, so it was just my friend Brent and I in the tipi, and Chris and Walter in his camper. In MD you can't hunt after noon, and I didn't feel like going back to the scum stream so we just shot bows, drank coffee (and some nightcaps), and shot the bull that evening.
The next morning, I had a plan to carry my two good decoys up the road to that nigh mountain meadow. Chris and Walter were supposed to be hunting near camp, and they left out well ahead of me. I finally got my stuff together and at first light started hearing gobbles up on the hill. I was high tailing it up the forest trail to the meadow when I came up on Walter! I asked him where he was going and he said he changed his mind and went towards the gobbles and he planned to go in my spot. I told him I would continue up the trail towards the top above him, but had no idea now where I would go set up. I was a little miffed, and even more so, when above I came to a hogback that had a series of cliffs across it, with no way to cross. By this time I was a sweaty mess, was fuming, and had no idea where to go. I back tracked across the mountain away from the gobbles we heard.
Then divine providence hit and I heard a gobble relatively close by below me! I looked around and I was on the edge of a little wooded bench in some pine grove. I scanned for an area to set up my decoys when I heard another gobble down there and it sounded louder! I hastily chose an open spot on the edge of the bench where something from below might see my decoys and put in the hard plastic realistic jake and the other pretty detailed hen out from my old military C bag I carried them in. I looked around and saw one of the only tree trunks big enough to provide some cover, and scratched out the leaves, sat on my C bag, and put up the gun towards my decoys. Because of the bench I could not see anything coming up, but if something popped up it should be in range. I took out grandfather's call and made 3 yelps and the Tom sounded off in response. I waited a few seconds and repeated, and he also responded. I put down the call, shouldered gun and waited knowing he knew exactly where I was now. Sitting up against the tree with my elbows on my knees I was frozen using my full peripheral vision to scan for movement in the eerie silence. I had the muzzle pointed towards the decoys and time seemed to drag by quietly.
Then I saw a white head pop up about 12 feet from my decoys... He appeared to be strutting, but I could not see anything but the head at this point due to him being below the bench. He was stepping closer to my dekes when I trained the bead of my shotgun on his head and followed. He stopped sideways and there was a branch across my field of vision between us that ran sideways. I saw him look towards me over this stick, and then his head raised seemingly 6 or 7 inches like he was extending an extension ladder. I feared he saw something he didn't like, so I put the bead just under his chin and squeezed loose my shot! I instantly knew he was hit as he rolled backwards, but then whirled and began to fly. I struggled to get to my feet and pump another shell into the Remington as I ran to the edge of the bench I lost sight of him behind. I stopped for a milli-second, but saw nothing so I ran down the hillside another 25 yards and stopped to look and listen. I heard what could only be described as a gurgling of blood cackle that sounded like it was in the trees nearby, but I saw and heard nothing further. I listened intently...thought I might hear blood drops falling, hear a 35-pound bird crash against the ground, or at least signs of running or flapping. Nothing.
After a while I started my search.
The woods were still very sparse, and I could see much of the open forest floor at any given point. I scanned with binos and started searching in a wide circle looking up and down. Eventually, I went back up to the decoys and found lots of promising blood splatter, a few feathers...he was definitely hit and since all I could see was head and neck.... how?! I saw that I had peppered that horizontal branch a bit between us too. I started an exhaustive search of the area in grid patterns. I searched for several hours and traveled around ¼ mile in radius with never another sign. I checked out hollow logs, holes, cavities of tree trunks...everything.
Reflecting back, I did everything right this time. The only thing I could even think of is maybe shooting higher a touch, but before my gun patterned a bit high. I paced off the shot at 37 steps. Nothing but head and neck. He should be dead on the ground in front of me, but that is hunting I guess. Makes up for that other unlucky bird I got with only 2 pellets in the neck I suppose... hurts though. Anyway, it was a good learning experience on pressured public land. Not sure if I will get a chance after them again with my busy schedule. Chris and Walter are going back this week to try again.
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