Reflecting on a hunt or fishing trip is almost as good as the actual hunt. The spring Rio Grande turkey seasons ends Sunday. I hunted many times during the six-week season in Karnes, Bastrop, Blanco and Hays counties. Several hunts ended with turkey breasts in the freezer and others with “almost but no cigar” memories.
Unlike hunting deer 50 yards from a corn feeder, spring turkey hunts are almost always unique. Turkeys don’t always respond in the same way to a call.
Early in the season I set up in the dark on Cibolo Creek. A big number of turkeys were roosting across the creek, including several gobblers. My plan was to call one off the roost, hopefully, seeing him fly into an open field behind me. Each time I called several gobblers answered from the roost with gusto. But at daylight they all flew down and departed in different directions from me. So later I wandered on down the creek and dropped off a cliff into a big pecan bottom. A few “yelps” on my turkey call got an immediate response from a gobbler in the big field. But the gobbler was coming from a different direction than the earlier birds. Without a good place to hide, I climbed to the top of the cliff, hoping to ambush the gobbler. But I got to the top of the cliff at the same time as my prey. He saw me and took off running. The field was full of thistles with beautiful white flowers. His red and bluish head was darting through the tall flowers. My first shot missed. Then he hit the afterburner. I snapped off a second fleeting shot and he disappeared. I walked toward where I last saw him and there he was dead. A single pellet had hit his head. Lucky shot!
The next week me and my brother, Wayne, were in the same field across from the turkey roost. We were about 150 yards apart. The turkeys were again responding to my call in the dark. But this time at first light a turkey flew across the creek and landed 30 steps in front of me. Wayne saw the bird fly in. At first I thought it was a hen. But then the turkey gobbled and went into a tail-spread and strut. Wayne was watching when the heavy load of No. 4 lead hit him.
On another hunt in Bastrop County, I was hunting with ranch owner, Randy McReynolds. We heard a gobbler in the dark and moved down a gravel road. We thought about sneaking closer but I was afraid that we would spook him. So we set up with the gravel ranch road in front of us and a highline field behind. When I called, he answered. We were close. As the morning light began to creep in, instead of flying down into the open space he flew out high across the road. We heard him gobble far away when he landed. Then another bird near him gobbled. Both birds responded to my call. A short time later we saw one of the gobblers slipping across the gravel road. Randy raised his shotgun but the gobbler was a little out of shotgun range. He walked under the fence into the field behind us.
Then, to my surprise, the other gobbler flew high across the road into the field. He was closer than the other bird. Randy eased around and fired at the gobbler’s head. The bird staggered, turned and began to run. Both of us emptied our guns at the crippled bird. Randy’s last shot finally killed the bird. The other gobbler disappeared.
Mike Mosel, one of my hunting pals, and I had hunted all morning on a big Blanco River ranch north of San Marcos. The ranch is home to large numbers of turkeys but we saw none. Then about noon we came upon a corn feeder and saw a gobbler run. We took up positions about 50 steps apart on opposite sides of the feeder. I began to call and the gobbler answered. I knew he was coming.
Soon he cautiously appeared in the brush about 30 steps from me. I put the bead of the shotgun barrel on his head, clicked off the safety and began to squeeze the trigger. Then he was gone. He had seen our hunting vehicle on the road behind me.
Mike and I went home for lunch. I planned to return late to hunt but Mike couldn’t come back. I persuaded my wife, Beth, to ride back to the ranch with me about 5 PM. When we neared the area of that same feeder I called from the truck and got an immediate answer. Leaving Beth to wait in the truck, I grabbed my gun and call and ran down the hill. This time I got out of sight of the truck. Hiding in a cedar bush I called and a gobbler responded. The second time he gobbled he was much closer. Then I heard another bird fly into the brush and a turkey fight commenced. I could hear wings flapping and brush crashing. The two birds were very close.
Soon a jake (first year gobbler) stepped into the open. I could see a big gobbler in the brush behind him. Two more steps and the big bird was mine. But young birds are better eating, so I shot the jake.
This was the first time I had been near two gobblers fighting. I don’t know which one flew into the situation but it was obvious that he wanted the hen.
I know where the big boy is hanging out so I hope to get him on my last hunt of the season.
