by Jerod Fink
The last weekend of the turkey season here in WI got here much faster than I thought! My parents were right when they said that time moves much faster as you get older, I can’t believe another spring of chasing gobbling birds is over.
The weather was tough this year, as many turkey hunters in the Midwest can attest. Snow, rain, wind, freezing temps were all present through much of our seasons this year. As a matter of fact, I can probably count on one hand the number of nice days we had to actually hunt birds over the last six weeks. I took feathers off a bird the first season with my Hoyt, and had to wait until the last season (six weeks later) to have another chance at a bird.
Since we were planning an intense bowfishing weekend (which was hampered by muddy water, but we still managed to get quite a few in the boat) I knew turkey hunting time would be limited. This being the case, I was toting the ole 870 Flamethrower instead of the Hoyt. To be honest, it felt really odd as I haven’t had a gun in my hand chasing turkeys in over five years. Despite the odd feeling, I couldn’t help but feel I had a leg up. As somebody once told me, “There is nothing deadlier than a bow hunter with a gun in their hands”!
We woke up at noon on Saturday, May 21st after getting home at 6 AM from bowfishing. Of course, like the previous 6 weeks it was raining cats and dogs. Around 3 PM it quit raining and we went to one of our old standby spots where spotting turkeys is almost a given. However, this farm gets a ton of pressure and calling them into range is often an exercise in futility. Lo and behold, there was a bird exactly where many had met their demise in the past out walking around to get out of the dripping wet woods.
A quick plan was devised, and I started walking in his direction hoping to get in position to call him up a small, brushy hill into a waiting load of 3 1/2″ #5′s. It was now hot and humid, and I was sweating like crazy on my short hike. After hustling up the hill to a certain spot, I slowed down and entered hunting mode. Hearing a soft putt to my left, I looked and there was the bird beginning to bust out of the woods. In the short amount of time he was out of site, he walked right to where I wanted to call him too (my hunch was right).
A quick blast from the Remington and it was over, 5 minutes after it started. Having spent over 45 hours in a blind this year bow hunting birds, and 5 minutes with a shotgun in my hand got it done. Bittersweet? A little bit I guess. But the crockpot barbecued turkey breast tonight made me forget all about it…
