mdunc8
Well-known member
So I just got home from a work/hunting trip in eastern Montana and boy was it exciting. After a humbling opening weekend, I was looking forward to some redemption. After getting a little work done on Sunday afternoon, we went to check out a spot I scouted last year for deer. I remember seeing a few feathers and thought it was worth a second look. As we dropped into the valley, low and behold, there's a big old gobbler strutting in the middle of 10 hens right in the middle of the road on the other side of the valley. There was no way to make it over to them without getting busted, so we decided to drive through the middle of them with the hopes that they wouldn't get too spooked. As we drove by, they jumped of the road, but didn't seem to mind the truck too much. We headed up the hill and parked behind a knob where we could unloaded and start a sneak. We were able to drop down in the valley, but the birds had moved back across to the other side and joined up with 30 other birds. There were at least 6 toms all blown up in the middle of the group. It was getting late, so we decided to hold back, wait for them to roost, and devise a strategy for the morning. After watching them roost, we hiked back up the hill about half a mile and set up camp.
At 4am, we crawled down and were able to get within 200 yards of the roost. Shortly after daybreak, we coaxed a few of the birds down. We were setup behind an old roadbed and didn't have a good view of the entire field we were setup on, so I wasn't able to see the birds that were on the ground. Before I knew it, a single bird crossed in front of me to the other side of the roadbed behind my buddy, but I couldn't get a good look at it. I decided before the hunt that I was going to hold off for a good bird, so I let him walk until we could get a better look. The bird probably wasn't more than 20 yards from us gobbling his freaking head off, but we couldn't see him as we were below the old road. Just as the bird was about the drop down to us, a small pack of coyotes started going off no more than 100 yards behind us. I've never heard coyotes that excited. We had no idea they were there until they were right on top of us. Every bird on the ground and in the trees starting going crazy. Before the bird behind us could figure out what was going on, my buddy jumped up, ran to the top of the embankment, and rolled the bird out.
Not surprisingly, the coyotes took off like they were shot out of a cannon and the birds shut up, but they stayed in the roost. Fortunately, after about 15 minutes and some soft calling, they calmed back down and flew down in the field about 200 yards out. We closed the distance to about 100 yards using a dry creek bed. We belly crawled through the sagebrush but couldn't keep up with them as they were feeding away from us and we couldn't pull any of the toms away from the group. However, we noticed another dry branch to our right that worked around towards where they were heading. We backtracked without getting busted and sprinted up the second creek bed. I wasn't expecting for them to be very close, but it was our last option before they headed for private property. As I poked my head over the bank, I found ourselves surrounded by the entire flock with the closest strutter only 20 yards. I waved my buddy up behind me (he had a second tag). I jumped up and dropped the closest bird. Before I knew it, we had birds running circles around us. They didn't know what hit them. In all the commotion, my buddy couldn't single out another gobble close enough, so he refrained, amazingly, from peppering the whole group.
With two birds on the ground by 6:45am, we jumped in the truck to get some work done, with the hopes of finishing early enough to squeeze in an evening hunt.
After finishing up work, we decided to scout out a few other areas rather than molesting the same group of birds again. We quickly found another strutting tom with a nice group of hens, but unfortunately he was just over on private land. It looked like their only option of trees to roost in were pretty close to BLM, so we decided to leave them be and go set up camp on the other side of the section since we had been up over 15 hours at that point.
As I'm setting up the tent and my buddy is starting a fire, we hear a gobble that sounded like it was coming from just over the hill. In my Reefs (they're flip flops for all you bums who've never made it to the beach) and shorts, I grab the nearest slate and striker I can find, a jacket, and headnet and we take off around the hill towards the bird. As we reach the crest, we see the tom about 400 yards out barely over the fence on private. We find a small gully and are able to cut the distance in half. There's a small bench between us and the birds, so my buddy crawls about 50 yards in front of me while I start trying to coax the birds towards us. At this point I can't see any of the birds and he's not gobbling much anymore. After a few minutes, I can see my buddy hug up to some sagebrush. Before I realize it, I can hear the hens as well as the gobbler puffing up, but I still can't see them. It sounds like they're almost to the point where they're between me and my buddy. So I quickly quit calling, drop down to my knees, and back up about 10 yards. Just as I get situated, the three of the hens pop over the hill about 20 yards away. They know something isn't right. They've got a guy laying on the ground to their right and some idiot in shorts and flip flops with bright white legs that haven't seen the sun in 6 months. After a few seconds, apparently the gobbler cleared some tall sagebrush giving my buddy a shot. I watch him jump up and look my way to make sure he's not going to blow my head off. At that point I'm more worried about the hens taking my head off as they attempt to take flight and don't even get to see my buddy jellyhead the gobbler.
I was pretty confident we were never going to be able to top last year's opening day double, but Sunday's hunt definitely surpasses any day of turkey hunting I've had. After a long day of hunting and working, I was more than happy to sit by the fire with a nice hot brat and watch my buddy pluck his second bird of the day in the dark.
At 4am, we crawled down and were able to get within 200 yards of the roost. Shortly after daybreak, we coaxed a few of the birds down. We were setup behind an old roadbed and didn't have a good view of the entire field we were setup on, so I wasn't able to see the birds that were on the ground. Before I knew it, a single bird crossed in front of me to the other side of the roadbed behind my buddy, but I couldn't get a good look at it. I decided before the hunt that I was going to hold off for a good bird, so I let him walk until we could get a better look. The bird probably wasn't more than 20 yards from us gobbling his freaking head off, but we couldn't see him as we were below the old road. Just as the bird was about the drop down to us, a small pack of coyotes started going off no more than 100 yards behind us. I've never heard coyotes that excited. We had no idea they were there until they were right on top of us. Every bird on the ground and in the trees starting going crazy. Before the bird behind us could figure out what was going on, my buddy jumped up, ran to the top of the embankment, and rolled the bird out.
Not surprisingly, the coyotes took off like they were shot out of a cannon and the birds shut up, but they stayed in the roost. Fortunately, after about 15 minutes and some soft calling, they calmed back down and flew down in the field about 200 yards out. We closed the distance to about 100 yards using a dry creek bed. We belly crawled through the sagebrush but couldn't keep up with them as they were feeding away from us and we couldn't pull any of the toms away from the group. However, we noticed another dry branch to our right that worked around towards where they were heading. We backtracked without getting busted and sprinted up the second creek bed. I wasn't expecting for them to be very close, but it was our last option before they headed for private property. As I poked my head over the bank, I found ourselves surrounded by the entire flock with the closest strutter only 20 yards. I waved my buddy up behind me (he had a second tag). I jumped up and dropped the closest bird. Before I knew it, we had birds running circles around us. They didn't know what hit them. In all the commotion, my buddy couldn't single out another gobble close enough, so he refrained, amazingly, from peppering the whole group.
With two birds on the ground by 6:45am, we jumped in the truck to get some work done, with the hopes of finishing early enough to squeeze in an evening hunt.
After finishing up work, we decided to scout out a few other areas rather than molesting the same group of birds again. We quickly found another strutting tom with a nice group of hens, but unfortunately he was just over on private land. It looked like their only option of trees to roost in were pretty close to BLM, so we decided to leave them be and go set up camp on the other side of the section since we had been up over 15 hours at that point.
As I'm setting up the tent and my buddy is starting a fire, we hear a gobble that sounded like it was coming from just over the hill. In my Reefs (they're flip flops for all you bums who've never made it to the beach) and shorts, I grab the nearest slate and striker I can find, a jacket, and headnet and we take off around the hill towards the bird. As we reach the crest, we see the tom about 400 yards out barely over the fence on private. We find a small gully and are able to cut the distance in half. There's a small bench between us and the birds, so my buddy crawls about 50 yards in front of me while I start trying to coax the birds towards us. At this point I can't see any of the birds and he's not gobbling much anymore. After a few minutes, I can see my buddy hug up to some sagebrush. Before I realize it, I can hear the hens as well as the gobbler puffing up, but I still can't see them. It sounds like they're almost to the point where they're between me and my buddy. So I quickly quit calling, drop down to my knees, and back up about 10 yards. Just as I get situated, the three of the hens pop over the hill about 20 yards away. They know something isn't right. They've got a guy laying on the ground to their right and some idiot in shorts and flip flops with bright white legs that haven't seen the sun in 6 months. After a few seconds, apparently the gobbler cleared some tall sagebrush giving my buddy a shot. I watch him jump up and look my way to make sure he's not going to blow my head off. At that point I'm more worried about the hens taking my head off as they attempt to take flight and don't even get to see my buddy jellyhead the gobbler.
I was pretty confident we were never going to be able to top last year's opening day double, but Sunday's hunt definitely surpasses any day of turkey hunting I've had. After a long day of hunting and working, I was more than happy to sit by the fire with a nice hot brat and watch my buddy pluck his second bird of the day in the dark.
