My brother. Russell, had some great comments regarding hunting goals. His comments and my reply are worth noting here.
Russ wrote:
“Making goals that you really set in your heart and are realistic is critical. My heartfelt goals this year were to help my daughter harvest her first big game animal. She harvested both a buck and an elk. It was awesome. I was perfectly happy with how the season went, even though I did not set any lofty goals for my own hunting, as I was concerned about the time dedication. I did manage to harvest my best buck to date, although that’s not saying much. Gotta really think about my goals this coming year. Might be time to harvest a really decent bull elk.
I think you’ll get it done in Utah this year. But i am curious, which state(s) are you going to add to your schedule that will still allow you the time you need for the Utah general hunt?”
I wrote :
Good points, Russ. Here’s some clarification:
Last year I set a goal to shoot a 200″ buck AND help Esther with her limited-entry hunt. Turns out you can’t do both. So really I sabotaged my goal from the start. But that’s okay; I wouldn’t trade Esther’s big bull for any buck! It’s wonderful to help people. There’s nothing more noble than setting a goal to help someone with their goal, especially family.
My lofty goals are deemed ridiculous by most people; I mean, how can I expect to shoot a 200″+ buck on public land with a general tag?! Am I setting myself up for failure? Am I setting unrealistic goals? NO, because I’ve done it twice already and I know the secret recipe; unfortunately that recipe takes incredible resources, mostly time.
It’s important to realize that in setting a ridiculously high goal you must do something every day to get closer to it: physical training, shooting practice, map study, scouting, scouting, and scouting. Most importantly is to acknowledge your goal every single day. Keep it in the forefront of your mind. Format your mind to focus all available energy and decisions on your goal, and you’ll find a way to reach it.
As for out-of-state hunts, I only have one in mind: Idaho. I am a man of big vision, but modest means; a po’ folks po’ folk. For this reason I refuse to pay into the yuppie system of buying points in multiple western states, especially while Utah has such great bucks, even on publc land/general units. In my opinion the point system is evil. It might seem fair on the surface, but it really takes away opportunity from young hunters and new hunters, while catering to the rich. Many of my archery students ask me how they can get started in hunting. They assume they can just buy a bow and an OTC tag for any game species. Imagine their surprise when I explain they must pay into the system for decades just to draw a decent tag!
I paid into the system for years, earning points for multiple species for my son. Now he has no interest in hunting. Where’s my refund? My wife’s ex-boss’ dad paid into the system for 15 years and finally drew his moose tag. It arrived in the mailbox shortly after he died of old age!
That being said, I need more opportunities, and since Idaho is one of the only states that doesn’t have a draw system, it’s my best chance at getting a tag. Also, Idaho has several general deer hunts that don’t conflict with Utah’s season.
Congrats, Russ, on your biggest mule deer last year and good luck with your big bull goals. Dream big! Remember, elk are EASY!
Actually it wasn’t that horrible, but I sometimes I get accused of being overly critical. Call me a pessimist, but accepting mediocrity with a smile can only be detrimental to my lofty goals.
I entered 2015 with one goal: to shoot a 200″+ mule deer buck with a bow. It didn’t happen. I failed for three primary reasons:
First, because there are too many hunters vying for too few tags, I drew my last choice unit and lost hope from the outset.
Second, because of my busy work schedule I didn’t bother to scout my 5th choice unit. Work should never be an excuse for failure!
Third, I spent half of the general hunt helping my lovely wife with her Limited Entry elk hunt in Southern Utah where I didn’t even carry a bow.
Last of all, I entered the Wasatch Extended Hunt, where I’ve never even seen a 200″ deer, and failed there too.
So 2016 will be different. I’ve mentioned many times here that SUCCESS IS A DECISION. Last year, while wandering endlessly down an empty game trail, an annoying inner voice insisted that success is NOT a decision; that there are simply too many variables working against me, and so I can’t make that decision. By the time the season ended, a stronger voice confirmed that success is in fact a decision, but only if you are willing to do whatever it takes. That means putting in the time and effort worthy of a 200″ buck. I realize now that I didn’t do this.
So, this year I have only one resolution: to harvest a 200″+ muley buck with my bow. Here’s I will make it happen:
I will decline any and every job/work/responsibility that conflicts with my deer hunt.
Whatever crappy unit I end up drawing, I will scout every single week starting in summer and leading up to opening day. I’ve always believed there’s a huge, 200″ buck living in every single unit of the state; you just have to find it.
And finally, I will hunt out-of-state. The problem with Utah is you only get one tag and one opportunity. Giant bucks require more opportunities.
That’s all folks. I hope y’all are setting high sandards for this coming hunting year. Remember, success is always a decision, but only as long as you are willing to do whatever it takes.
P.S. You can expect much more new and exciting iformation here in 2016. Last year I received tons of hunting insights and revelations. All of this will be shared here in 2016.
In some high places you can see the city. On this day it was freezing and cloudy, but in the city it was warm and sunny.Morning hunt up high. Halfway through the November most of the snow melted, then blew back in the following week.On my way back to camp one night I found these fresh cougar tracks in my entrance boot tracks. Kinda spooky.Another cold day scanning for deer.I finally spotted this big stud-buck 1000 feet above me. By the time I got close, it had crossed the summit and left. This is the hardest hunt I’ve ever had!November 30, last day of the season. Another sad photo of my hunt coming to an end. Better to eat an unused tag than kill a small buck. Already looking forward to next year!
The Utah extended hunt is by far the most difficult venture of the year. The daily views, however, can be spectacular, here alone in the quiet hills.This a typical view from the office.Grapple snow and lichen.In the snow, winter camo is a must, but it needs not be camo at all. I wear an inverted aviator’s hat, inside-out camo shirt, and Dockers. When it’s really cold I tie some long underwear around my neck.Video still from a herd of more than 100 elk. Nice to see some animals finally, but really just looking for deer.
The following photos are from my Utah extended archery hunt in October and November. The hunt ended on November 30 and I did not shoot a deer.
As a trophy hunter, I was holding out for real record-class buck. Also, my wife already shot a huge bull elk, so meat wasn’t a big concern, rather I was mostly looking for a challenge. All told, I could have shot close to 30 bucks, the most buck encounters I’ve ever had. Of those bucks, half were young two- and three-point bucks, and the rest were either too small or too smart. It was a challenge indeed!
Saddest day of the year: watching the general hunt come to a deerless end.I spent some time in October exploring the steep local mountains. Extreme terrain, very few bucks.Spent some time scouting new locations on a mountain bike. Note: Going uphill, bikes aren’t much easier than walking, but saves tons of time going downhill.In early December I entered the freezing mountains, spending many days alone between 7500 – 9000 feet.Another freezing day at 8500 feet.
I’m unofficially declaring December as National Anti-Political Correctness Month! The following has been on my mind lately…
I’m not racist. In fact I had several Hispanic and African-American friends throughout my life, and still do. My best friend growing up was gay as a June bug! Some of my best friends now are flaming liberals. Doesn’t matter to me; I judge each person on his character and not on his color, religion, creed, or political preference. This is normal. And for the vast majority of Americans, this is exactly how it’s been for many decades. Yet just recently racism has been re-introduced into our culture, not by normal individuals, but by race-baiting liberals in order to demonize good, patriotic citizens.
The Silent Truth
That being said, I am very prejudiced! I am prejudiced against every “politically correct” person–white, black, green, or otherwise. Politically correct persons (PCs) are the most offensive creatures on the planet. PCs are anti-America, anti-God, anti-freedom, and anti-Nature. PCs wish to take away your God- and Country-given rights to free speech, free thought, and free expression.
Modern America has been in a downward spiral thanks to PC lies for some time now, and it’s only getting worse. More and more people are being persecuted for their beliefs, whether it’s religious, political or otherwise. Ironically, if you believe in God or morality then you are automatically a hater. In my lifetime I’ve seen more good, intellectual, honest, hard-working Americans persecuted than any single minority person or group!
Because of this persecution, innocent, freedom-loving individuals are losing their livelihoods and reputations. One case that sticks out in my mind is from 2014 when Mozilla Chief Executive Brendan Eich was forced to resign simply because he made a donation to opponents of gay marriage. The evil PCs destroyed his career, not because of his job performance, but his personal values.
Another example is the Washington Redskins football team and their American-Indian mascot. Today, if I support the Washington Redskins–which I do–then I’m a racist. Never mind that more than half the team is black. Their mascot–the stately and strong, admirable American-Indian warrior–is detested NOT by American Indians, but ignorant, white, PC hate-mongers who don’t even watch football. Fortunately the NFL doesn’t care about these doltish PCs and their pitiful plight to change the team’s name. Team owner Daniel Snyder stood his ground in 2013, telling USA Today, “We’ll never change the name. … It’s that simple. NEVER—you can use caps.”
Go REDSKINS!
PCs are the REAL haters. These Godless, anti-freedom, socialist nuts are compelled to seek out and hyper-inflate any microscopic social issue just to feel better about themselves. They, along with the abhorrent, lying media, perpetuate racism by bringing the slightest black/white race conflict to the forefront of public awareness. They’ve hijacked the University by shoving these ridiculous, social-equity issues ahead of any actual education. They indoctrinate our children with a continual bombardment of liberal values, the highest being the elevation of the weak while suppressing the strong; this being the exact the opposite of Nature and survival of the fittest.
Why is rampant political correction on the rise? This question has plagued my mind for some time. It’s glaringly obvious that widespread racism has been all but wiped out, especially here in the future where we have a black president and countless other minorities in top political and social positions. But after observing many PC individuals in my own life, it occurred to me that political correction is simply a widespread fad; it’s the new “cool”. It’s cool to accept everyone and anything with no discernment between good and evil.
For decades American values were dictated by religious texts and the constitution. Suddenly these directors of values are persecuted and detested. It’s natural for our children–who are mostly excreted from broken and godless homes–to seek meaning and values in life. When they can’t find these things at home, they glean it from pop-idols and institutions of “higher” learning.
Since there’s so little for our children to believe in now, they buy into the religion of political correction (aka liberalism) which perpetuates the values of acceptance, tolerance, equality, environmentalism, anti-Americanism, anti-capitalism, and anti-God. Political correctness–aka Evil–is simply the new “cool”.
Tragically, kids think that being cool is acting, speaking, and looking like everyone else–in other words they are forfeiting their individuality. But if you live long enough, wisdom prevails. Being cool really means embracing freedom, saying what you think, pursuing your own dreams, and living your life according to good old-fashioned American values.
The major problem with being a cool kid today is that they don’t have a choice about it. One word of intolerance and the coolest cat in class becomes ostracized. You must be PC just to survive in society. From cradle to grave we walk on eggshells to protect our reputations and livelihood. Free speech and free expression are no longer tolerated in our poisoned society.
Being a hunter puts me in a minority class. I’m judged negatively by the most people for harvesting natural, organic, self-renewing animal protein. I find myself hiding my hunting lifestyle from many colleagues and clients. I feel I must continually defend myself against attacks against my lifestyle choice. By definition, I am an oppressed minority! No joke!
Well, ya know what’s funny about being a free-thinking member of the silent majority? I don’t care. It’s a free country and EVERYONE has the right to think and express whatever opinion they want. If someone hates blacks, gays, Jews, hunters, Hispanics, or any other minority, who cares?! Now, if someone burns a minority on their front lawn, well, that’s a problem. If they blow up a church in the name of God, that’s an issue. If someone makes a Muslim joke at Thanksgiving, who cares?! Go crazy. It’s a free country.
Speaking in poor taste certainly makes you less popular, but it doesn’t make you a bad person. Acting on evil impulses makes you a bad person. Say what you think, express how you feel, and turn Thanksgiving dinner into a racially- or politically-charged cluster bomb. That’s your right as an American. Liberty and freedom; that’s what makes our country great.
In conclusion, I implore you to do your part this holiday season to combat the evil of political correctness. If your free speech or free expression offends some mindless PC troglodyte, or if someone gets their feel-bads hurt at the annual Christmas party, just remember, there’s only one answer to political correctness: WHO CARES!
Hello Zen-bowhunter blog readers. Today marks my 100th blog post. A year and a half in the making, my little archery/hunting blog is still going strong thanks to you, my loyal readers. My sincere hope is that everyone has enjoyed at least some of my content. I truly believe there’s something here for everyone, not just hunters.
One of my greatest passions in life is seeking self-improvement through archery. Archery is an individual sport, which means each person learns and grows at his own pace. There is no competition or pressure to succeed, except from yourself. Most people find archery (and bowhunting) to be a wonderful, meditative way to achieve clarity and peace and even Zen. After all, Zen-through-archery has been taught in Japan for a thousand years. My goal in this blog is to help you succeed in both Zen-archery and in life. Once a person achieves Zen, he realizes he can do anything he puts his mind to.
On a personal note, we are entering the peak of the mule deer rut in Utah. This means the biggest bucks will be climbing down from the high country to participate in their annual mating ritual. For those of you that still have an unused archery tag, it’s going to be an exciting (and COLD) month. Maybe I’ll see you in the hills.
Best of luck in your own endeavors, and may the Zen-force be with you!
Understanding how to control or reduce human scent is key to success in bowhunting. Unlike humans, with our flat faces with cute little noses, the deer’s entire face and head is built around one gigantic nose and several inches of nasal passageway. Deer use their nose continually to survive, first by detecting danger at far distances, second to sniff out food, and third to sniff out a mate. But don’t despair. The fact that deer have such amazing sense of smell is the only reason they even still exist at all here in the future. As hunters we should admire its prowess and design. We want deer to survive…so that we can hunt them!
Human scent—or odor—is managed in three different ways: Scent masking, scent reduction, and scent control. Scent masking means using other scents—such as deer urine, pine extract, or sage—to cover up human odor. I rarely use scent masking so I’ll leave it out of this article. Instead let’s look at scent control verses scent reduction.
First off, total scent control—aka “scent elimination”—is really impossible. No matter what measures you take to eliminate human scent, you’ll still ooze some amount of odor, especially after a few days living in the woods. The only fool-proof way to control human scent is by using the wind to carry your scent away from your intended quarry. After 25 years in the field I’ve come to realize that scent control is impossible by any means other than wind. But winds can and do change direction. Therefore, 100% scent control is still impossible. That being said, I’m a firm believer in scent reduction.
Scent reduction means using commercial chemical or enzymatic odor neutralizing sprays, soaps, wipes, and special clothing to neutralize odor on your body and gear. In my experience scent reduction efforts are only marginally effective, but it does give me a little peace of mind.
Use scent-eliminating laundry soap before each hunt.
For many years I’ve washed my clothes and body in scent masking soap before each hunt, and then used scent neutralizing spray at camp. Yet I am continually amazed at deer’s ability to pick me off no matter what precautions I use. When the wind is bad, it’s over, plain and simple. Your slightest human scent can blow out an entire canyon before you even step foot in it. Although I can’t completely eliminate my scent, I know that a reduced scent won’t travel as far, and if the wind changes momentarily, perhaps it will be diluted enough to go unnoticed, allowing me edge a little closer to the buck.
One reason we have such a hard time eliminating odor is because of the tremendous amount of gear we carry into the field that hasn’t been adequately washed down with scent control products. I recently began taking inventory of some of these items:
• Wrist watch
• Belt
• Boot insoles/lining
• Gum
• Every single content of your backpack
• Wallet/keys
• Chapstick
• Water bottle
• Food/snacks
• Phone/GPS
• Binoculars and harness
• Rangefinder and case
• Bow
• Armguard/Release aid
• Sweat/skin/hands/pores
• Hair
• Mouth/Breath/Lungs
Did I miss anything? Probably. Now let’s look closer at some of these items:
Mouth: To keep my mouth from running afoul, I chew gum in the field. But I don’t brush my teeth in the field, and I’m always breathing. Does the inside of your lungs have an odor? Not to you, but probably to the deer. Just by breathing you are continually announcing your presence to the woods.
Boots: No matter how much scent masking spray you use on your boots, the boots still breathe with each step. Go ahead and stick your face in your boot. Do you smell your sweaty insoles? Does the lining or the leather have an odor? Probably. And the deer can smell it too.
Skin: Your skin has pores which seep sweat and oil continuously. Even if you wash your hands before going afield, an hour or so later they’ll be dirty again. And a few hours after that, they are grimy and stinky. Fortunately, several companies sell special scent wipes for field use, but I don’t use them. I have enough junk in my pack already, and even then, your hair is continually accumulating oil and dirt just by sitting there.
You get the idea.
So, what can you do? Don’t obsess over scent control. Trust me; you’ll go nuts trying to mask everything. Really, how fun is it to spend hours washing and wiping down your Chapstick, keys, binos, arrows, wallet, etc?! The deer will still sniff out something else.
It’s a good idea to use scent-eliminating spray on your boots and outerwear while in the field.
Since pure scent elimination is really impossible, efforts to reduce scent are two-fold: First, keep the wind in your face and plan your stalks according to wind direction whenever possible. Second, use commercial scent masking products such soaps, deodorizers, and sprays. Go ahead and use whatever magical scent masking product you wish, but don’t count on it to save the day. My advice is to spare your obsession with scent control and focus on hunting skills instead.
In reviewing my last few stories I realized that the common thread was luck; both good and bad luck. Luck vs. skill is a constant struggle in hunting, so today I’ve written some of my ideas concerning luck:
Never let someone tell you that hunting is all skill and no luck, even me. It seems that all I write about is acquiring the innumerable skills necessary to be successful in bowhunting, but rarely do I speak of luck.
Today I’m speaking strictly of luck.
I had kind of a push-pull type of conversation with a friend not too long ago. He said that hunting had a whole lot to do with luck, which was something he generally lacked. Taken a bit back, I retorted that hunting also has a whole lot to do with skill. He replied, “Yes, but luck is definitely a factor.” I replied, “Yes, it’s true; you have to have some luck on your side, but you need skills too; it’s not a 50/50 split. I’d say it’s closer to 80/20; Sure, a guy is will occasionally stumble into a big buck, but without some decent skills he won’t be consistent from year to year.” We left it at that.
I’m sure you’ve heard all the motivational sayings, such as Stephen Leacock’s, “I am a great believer in luck, and I find the harder I work the more I have of it.” Or Emerson, “Shallow men believe in luck. Strong men believe in cause and effect.” These adages imply that there is no luck, just hard work. But hunting is a little different. Hard work doesn’t necessarily guarantee you anything.
First off, you need to remember that there are two kinds of luck: good luck and bad luck. In hunting, there is a lot more bad luck than good luck. This is because of the innumerable variables that are beyond your control in nature. As a result, bowhunting success is generally less than 25%. Therefore a bowhunter must acquire great skills in order to swing the odds in his favor. Occasionally a person will luck into a big buck, but more often than not he’ll luck out.
My primary motivation for this article is reflecting on yet another difficult hunting year and a failed deer hunt. Certainly I had some great opportunities–due mostly to experience and skill–but in the end it was sheer, uncontrollable bad luck that accounted most for my failure. Here’s just one example:
It was just another super-hot, super-dry day in the woods. I quickly realized that still-hunting was a terrible approach because the ground was so dry and loud. Worst of all, the drought-like conditions seemed to irritate the squirrels more than usual. The squirrels are always bad, but the hotter it gets, the more cantankerous they become…just a theory. Anyhoo, I was traveling from one bedding area to another. For once the wind was blowing hard and constant in my face, so I really didn’t have to be quiet. However, the squirrels were ferocious. As soon as I left one squirrel, another would fire up ahead of me. Their constant barking was driving me nuts! It didn’t really matter though, since there were so few deer in the area. I was hunting my 5th choice unit after all, thanks to the living nightmare of not being able to draw a decent tag in my own state, which is quickly becoming a dreary reality, but I digress… So, I was approaching a known bedding area with little hope. A squirrel fired up as soon as I entered the woods, and I thought nothing of it. As I rounded a pine tree, my eyes latched onto a pair of big, floppy ears rotating in the woods. I froze. In the dense tangle sat a big, heavy-horned 4×4, 170-class buck bedded facing away from me at only 30 yards. My dream was about to become a reality! But as I slowly reached for an arrow, another squirrel up ahead suddenly lit up into a full nutty rage. The smart old buck stood instantly and walked into the woods. He paused for a second to look back, then disappeared out of my life forever. Needless to say, I was enraged. I vowed that next year I would go into the woods two weeks before the hunt and kill every single squirrel on the mountain.
It’s easy to blame bad luck for failure, the same way that it’s easy to blame great skills for success. The trap you don’t want to fall into is relying on sheer luck, good or bad. Blaming a bad hunt on bad luck is an excuse to stop trying. Same with blaming success on good luck.
If you had an unlucky year like I did, you must remember that luck changes often. It’s like in poker: some nights you can’t get any cards, and other nights you can’t lose. In hunting you might go five years without bagging a buck, and then suddenly you bag one every year. The point is to never give up.
Today I believe success in hunting is an 80/20 split. An 80/20 split means that you’ll be successful 4 out of 5 years because you’ve acquired the necessary skills. The one year that you fail, you can go ahead and blame on bad luck. With great skills it doesn’t matter how much bad luck you have because when your luck changes, you are going find wonderful and consistent success!
I never thought much about turkeys. I love bowhunting more than anything, but it was my wife Esther who took an active interest in hunting turkeys. In spring we drew turkey tags for Southern Utah where we’d come across plenty of birds in the past. Getting tags was easy enough, but that’s where easy ended.
First off, we decided to do it with a bow. I don’t do guns—I am a bow-snob…I mean purist—so now we were hunting unfamiliar prey with light tackle.
Second, Esther couldn’t get any time off work. Her schedule is a consummate nightmare, but somehow she was able to secure a single weekend at the end of the April. Now this proved to be a problem because the turkeys we ultimately hunted were already people- and call- wary. Can you say sloppy seconds?
Thirdly, the weather report called for heavy thundershowers and snow. What choice did we have? We went for it anyway.
We left late Friday night and already it was raining. Four hours later we set up camp in the back of the truck and went to bed. The morning was cool and lovely. We ventured across a small river and up the mountain. I decided to make a video of our ordeal, so Esther carried a bow and I carried a camera. I would be the caller for the first couple days, and after she got a shot it would be my turn.
Me and Esther on our first turkey hunt.
We hiked and called for a few hours, but got no response. A while later, we heard a turkey gobble out of the blue, so we set up a decoy, dropped back, and began a calling sequence. The turkey ignored us and so we kept hiking.
Esther using a turkey slate call.
Later that afternoon, some thick, black clouds rolled in. As we were making our way back down the mountain, a gobbler fired up fairly close by. We holed up under some junipers to devise a strategy, and that’s when the rain started. We pulled out our raingear and pretty soon it was a downpour. At some point I realized we were on the wrong side of the river, and if the rain continued we might get trapped on the mountain. So we bagged the hunt and made a run for it.
Snow storm.
By the time we reached the truck the rain had turned to heavy snow. The snow let up later in the afternoon and so we ran back up to where we heard the gobblers. But they were gone. For the rest of the evening we hiked all over looking for tracks in the new snow, but found none. The turkeys had flown the coop!
Esther creek crossing.
The next morning we woke to a full-on blizzard. Around 10 a.m. it subsided, so once again we crossed the river and headed up the mountain. We hiked from four inches to six inches of snow. We covered an immense amount of ground, but heard no gobbles and found no tracks. The turkeys were gone.
It seemed to me that the only direction they could have gone is downhill, so we packed up the truck and headed to the bottom of the mountain.
It rained most of the day so we spent several hours driving the low-elevation dirt roads and scanning the hillsides for black blobs in the snow. We found none.
In the late afternoon we decided to find a place to camp. I remembered a dirt road that gave access to the low-elevation drainage. Basically, the steep dirt road drops into a bowl before turning back up the mountain. Well, half-way to the bottom, the truck started sliding sideways and I struggled to maintain control. We got to the bottom okay, but now we were really stuck. We slopped to a flat spot to camp, then, with a break in the storm, hiked up the mountain to see where we’d be spending the last day of the hunt.
Things began looking up.
Almost a mile up the muddy mountain, we heard a gobble. With a couple hours of light left, we rushed in, threw out the decoy, and made some calls. There were three gobblers struttin’ around us, but it was way too thick for a shot. I kept dropping back and making hen calls, but they just kept circling us nervously and gobbling every few minutes.
We pulled the decoy and repositioned to a better clearing, but they still wouldn’t come in. We pulled the decoy again and rushed toward them. We were getting close, and so was nighttime. As we sat there trying to figure out where to plant the decoy, some big red heads came bobbing through the sagebrush. The toms were about to pass right in front of us at only twenty yards! Esther nocked an arrow, and when the turks went behind a juniper bush I whisper-yelled, “30 yards!” When they broke into the open, Esther let an arrow fly…and missed! The arrow sailed right behind the first turkey and the second turkey jumped straight into the air. Somewhat alarmed, they all trotted out of sight.
It’s funny how thin the line is between failure and success. After two hard days of hunting, we suddenly had turkeys all around us. Although Esther missed, we were just excited to finally be into the turkeys!
On Sunday we got up early and hiked to where we left the turkeys. We were excited, and I even carried a bow this time. Sure enough, we were greeted by gobbles. Several times we set up the decoy and made calls. The toms responded diligently, but wouldn’t come in. Instead they continued up the mountain and we followed.
Now this is where things get real bad; where Nate and Nature have a serious falling out.
With plenty of new snow, it was easy to follow their tracks. We spotted the turkeys a hundred yards ahead of us. I quickly set up a decoy and dropped back to call. Just as I started calling, a small herd of elk came running through the oak brush. The elk had caught our scent and ran right through the turkeys, nearly trampling them! The turkeys spooked farther up the mountain and we followed.
We caught up to the turkeys moving ahead of us in some boulders and brush. Squatting low to the ground, I trotted up and planted the decoy again. No sooner had I started calling, some coyotes suddenly lit up howling like crazy a short distance behind us. The toms made one last gobble, some other turkeys across the canyon gobbled back, and then everyone shut up. Those were the last gobbles we heard.
Esther and I followed the tracks way up the mountain into the deep snow, but they were moving too fast. Eventually the tracks led out of the huge valley, crossed a saddle, and disappeared. Stupid coyotes!
Frustrated, we turned back. While on top of the mountain, Esther decided to call into work and let her boss know we were stuck in the mud and may not get out by tomorrow. Her boss wasn’t there, but the nice fellow who answered the phone informed her that her 23-year old work-friend had crashed his motorcycle and died over the weekend. Now we were super-bummed for the rest of the day.
With the day slipping away, we had no choice but to make our way back to where we started. Who knows; maybe we could find some new turkeys.
And we did! Half-way to the bottom of the canyon I spotted a hen walking in the sagebrush. I made some calls and some new gobblers fired up. I snuck out to the open and plugged the decoy in the mud and snuck back. I could barely make out two large, strutting males wandering back and forth in the trees ahead.
We started calling and this time a herd of nine deer came bounding out below us. Now, these deer were hell-bent on going uphill, and did so by running right through the turkeys. All the commotion spooked the turkeys off and again it was silent. You gotta be kidding me! First elk, then coyotes, and now deer!
With no other choice, we followed the toms into the dark timber. The snow had melted in the lower elevations, so following tracks was no longer possible. However, a short while later we got them gobbling again. The problem was they refused to come in. We called for more than an hour with no luck.
Using aluminum turkey slate call close up.
Frustrated, I decided to make a move. I told Esther to hang back. I’d sneak above them, and if they spooked, they might run back towards her.
It didn’t work. Instead, one of them busted me and all three toms slipped away down the mountain. I went back and got Esther. With only a couple hours of daylight, we made one more setup at the bottom of the canyon.
After half an hour of futile calling, I couldn’t take it anymore. I wasn’t going to just sit there and watch it get dark on my hunt. I told Esther I was going to enter the dark timber and sneak around for the last hour of light. She would stay in the ravine with the decoy and continue calling occasionally.
I was hiking up the steep, timbered mountain slope when out of the blue I heard something: “Cluck—-cluck—–cluck.” Well, this was new to me! I pulled an arrow. Sure enough, 40 yards below me, a huge chicken—I mean turkey—came sneaking and clucking along, all alone and completely oblivious to my presence. As it rounded a tree I let my arrow fly.
The arrow hit the giant black bird perfectly broadside and dead-center. The tom’s wings flapped wildly as it sprinted out of sight with my orange fletched arrow sticking straight out of its side. I was super excited as I dropped down to see my trophy…which was gone.
I found a couple clipped feathers and some torn up dirt, even a speck of blood or two. I followed in the direction the stupid bird ran, found another feather, and then lost the trail. I started walking circles. I called Esther on the radio to come help. She showed up and we search up and down and all over. The turkey was gone; run off to who-knows-where with my arrow. The problem with turkeys is two-fold: they don’t leave a blood trail, and they can sure take an arrow!
We continued our search by headlamp, but with no trail to follow, there was no choice but to give up. I was so deflated as I walked back to the truck. Few words were spoken.
The next morning we somehow slogged the truck out of the mud and drove home with nary a feathered foe for food.
Later study proved the turkey’s can take an arrow better than most animals. Basically their stiff wings, when folded against their bodies, creates a sheet of armor, like a stack of zip-ties. This armor will slow, or even stop an arrow, before it penetrates anything vital. In most cases it eventually kills the bird, but only after a lengthy sprint. A head/neck shot is really your best option.
The story ends here. But it also begins here. Next year you’ll find me and Esther in the same area, earlier in the season God-willing, with both heavier arrows and more experience in our quivers.
When facing nature one-on-one, the mountain and its infinite variables often wins. But this particular mountain still owes me a turkey, and I’ll never give up until I get one.
