Turkey Hunting, in the Rain, with a Twelve Year Old. Part 2

Nathan grabbed a hot shower while the old man, me, dug through the refrigerator for lunch. When the tea kettle came to a full boil the hot water filled mugs to bring the black tea steeping to full flavor.  As Nathan found dry clothes, I finished cutting the quesadillas.

The food didn’t last too long or even grace our tongues; we ate fast, dressed warm and headed back out looking for birds. The precip. was more of a drizzle then steady rain. The wind picked up enough to push the small car from side-to-side. The narrow river valley opened up into freshly harvested cornfields bringing new hope to the dreary afternoon.

At this point in the season it is always tempting to fill a tag using the front bumper.

Heading south on route 5, Nathan examined the treeline along the far side of the fields. “No turkeys in there. We should head left and take a look in the Steve’s Rock Field.”

The name of the fields tend to be some reminder of some turkey hunting episode from prior seasons. This past spring, Nathan, Steve, and I slithered along a stonewall adjacent to a large hay field. The flock of hens was leading a few toms quartering away from the wall; the closest bird was maybe 35 yards away. A large boulder marks the end of the stonewall and Steve managed to ooze up and lay the 12 gauge Mossberg across the top without getting busted. BOOM! The sound of the first shot rolled across the valley as the knee high grasses absorbed the shot leaving a disturbance in the otherwise uniform fescue. Steve shucked the first shell and fired again at the running flock. Another miss and the only casualties being some vegitation.

Pulling into the farm road leading into Steve’s Rock the slight hollow near the corn held a flock of about twenty birds. After watching for a few minutes Nathan spoke up.“Let’s head to the rich guy’s place and cut across meadow into the trees. That looks the way they’re going.”

Three minutes later we pulled off the road, jumped into our rain suits, and grabbed our bows. The trees Nathan was referring to sat between the car and the birds. The edge of the field  is dense with honeysuckle and ragweed enabling us to move quite freely closing to within 100 yards of the turkeys. The wind and rain made enough noise to cover the sound of two humans walking in wet grass.

The crux move to getting up close is finding a way through the strip of trees and into the next field. The trees are filled with vines and dense underbrush making any progress difficult. Fortunately, the birds were still in the hollow so we had terrain working to shelter us as we fought between the saplings, and thorny brush. Nathan insisted on trying to sneak through the grass and get close; I made my way to the edge of the tree hoping he might spook them towards me.

A tom just cannot resist showing of for the ladies. caption

My position allowed a good view of both the flock and the boy. Nathan stopped to nock an arrow before crouching and moving on his knees. Fall birds are much more docile and orders of magnitude less paranoid compared to spring. I have no idea how he managed to do it. Ten minutes after beginning his frontal attack on the turkeys he was twenty yards away and still sheltered by the topography. He checked his release and squirmed around getting his feet beneath his legs. In one motion he stood and drew the bow bringing his release hand to anchor. I held my breath not wanting to spook the birds. Nate moved the bow from side to side. “Come on boy, shoot something.” Is all I could think.

HONK, HONK, HONK, mixed in with the yelping and clucking of turkeys. The sounds scattered and six Canada Geese flew away followed by the twenty turkeys. Nathan let down, turned and came towards me.

“What happened?”

“Dad, it was pretty cool. I was pretty nervous sneaking up there. I could hear them clucking, and yelping a bit. When I stood up I had no idea the geese were there too and I kinda freaked out not wanting to shoot a goose which were in front of the turkeys. I jumped when the geese began honking. It was loud. I didn’t want to, well I did but decided not to, take a shot as they flew away. Kinda sucks they got away.”

“Welcome to turkey hunting with a bow. At least you learned something about sneaking up on birds. I’d of thought for sure you’d get busted long before you did. You’re doing great. Hunting them with a bow is hard. Even if you don’t get one your getting well within shotgun range, right?”

 I carried Nathan’s bow while he folded the blades of his Muzzy broadhead on the walk back to the car.

The next set of fields was blank so we kept driving south. A small gang of toms with paintbrush beards sat out in the middle of a posted field. Another flock of hens occupied the space beneath a crab apple tree in someone’s front yard. It was good to see all the birds even if they were not accessible.

The destination fields are bordered by steep ravines, lively creeks with open woods and is one of my all time favorite places to spot and stalk turkeys. The rain stopped falling as we pulled off the road and a few bit of blue sky were visible through the clouds.  So far the day had been fantastic hunting and little did we know the best part of the day stood fifteen minutes in out future.

Good cover but too long a distance for a decent shot.

Stay tuned for part 3