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NOTE: FOR McMANUS CAMP AND MUSTANG RANCH CAMP 2008 TURKEY INFORMATION AND REPORTS, CLICK THE LINKS OVER TO THE LEFT ON THIS PAGE.
FOR OUR HOME CAMP 2008 REPORTS AND PHOTOS, SCROLL DOWN THIS PAGE. HUNTS ARE LISTED IN REVERSE ORDER WITH THE MOST RECENT HUNT LISTED AT THE TOP.
ALSO NOTE: IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO RECEIVE A FLYER WHICH DETAILS OUR 2009 SPRING TURKEY OFFER, LET US KNOW. skipper@adobelodge.com
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Hunt 10 May 8-11, 2008
Our final spring turkey hunt of the 2008 season typified the entire season. The most experienced hunter brought two long beards into camp. The less-experienced hunters brought in no birds. When it comes to traditional spring turkey hunting, experience trumps almost everything but luck. Our old calf roping buddy Hal Churchill always said he'd rather be lucky than good any day.
Driving all the way from West Lafayette, Indiana, Chuck Calahan and Aaron Thompson had stopped to see family in Dallas before arriving in camp. The pair are from the world of academia and having just completed a semester of work, they were ready to get in some Rio Grande hunting for a change of pace. Both had lived in Texas in the past and are quite familiar with all things Texan. Chuck did his first-ever turkey hunting while living in the Lone Star State, but he crossed the river into Oklahoma to do so. He got away from the sport for a few years but is now re-aquainting himself with the spring pastime. His buddy Aaron has hunted turkeys for the past three years and has yet to take his first tom. We were so hopeful he would find that initial success here with us, but alas, it was not to be. Neither Chuck nor Aaron collected a bird during the three days.
And they hunted hard, too. On the first full day of their hunt, they were out all day long. Carrying some snacks and plenty of water on a day when the temperature reached 100 degrees for the first time this year, both were well supplied for the quest. They saw and worked several jakes that first afternoon but saw no mature gobblers. The next morning, we relocated them to a prime area near a river roosting site on another ranch, and although they heard maybe three gobblers, none were called successfully. Thankfully, the day was much cooler as a dry front moved through the area. The closest the pair came to tagging a gobbler came that afternoon when they were set up about 100 yards apart to guard the approach trails into a turkey feeder. Chuck had a good tom coming his way and nearly into range when Aaron made a call which turned the gobbler around in his tracks headed away straight away from the danger of Chuck's gun. Lucky bird; unlucky hunter. With their enthusiasm for the sport of turkey hunting still intact, despite not harvesting a bird, Chuck and Aaron are clearly accredited and valuable members of the fraternity of turkey hunters. We have no doubt that Aaron will soon collect his first-ever bird, and that Chuck will add to his collection of fifteen-or-so toms. We appreciated their attitude and spirit, and we wish them good luck in the turkey battles. We hope to see both Chuck and Aaron again someday.
Talk about confusing, in addition to Indiana's Chuck Calahan, we had in camp a Mississippi hunter named Chuck Calhoun, here for Hunt # 10. (How much wood would a woodchuck chuck?) Anyway, Chuck Calhoun, with maybe 90 birds to his lifetime credit, collected two long beards by noon of the second day.
The first afternoon in camp, Mississippi Chuck went looking for signs of activity and he found a trail with plenty of gobbler tracks. The next morning he got set up in that general area to see what would happen. He wasn't anywhere close to a roost, wisely preferring to try to anticipate where the birds might be traveling that morning. Playing his call maybe every 30 minutes or so, he finally heard a far off gobbler and patiently waited him out. It took a long time, but the old boy came in silently, as has been the habit of almost every gobbler the entire season. 2008 will NOT be called "The Year of the Gobble".
After checking out and hunting some other promising areas, Chuck returned to set up to hunt within a hundred yards of his initial success. The reason: he found gobbler tracks in his own tracks from the day before. Is this an insulting challenge from the gobbler community, or what? Figuratively slapped in the face with his hunting gloves, Chuck Calhoun accepted the challenge and got himself set up once again in that general area. He waited. And he waited some more. It got to be late morning.
Sure enough, after a while, along comes Mr. Long Beard, and true to his species' policy for the 2008 season, he is making zero noise. As he passes by well within gun range, the deep grass between the hunter and the gobbler prevents an effective shot. Bro. Gobbler stops thirty steps away under a mesquite for a bit of shade, and, unaware that he is in any kind of danger, he proceeds to sit down to rest a spell. Chuck is in agony holding that heavy gun for all this time, and finally is able to get the load from his arms and shoulder to his lap. Chuck refuses to take any kind of a chance shot. It has to be a cinch before he will pull the trigger. But now, there is a new problem:
Along comes a drove of jakes. The nearby shaded-up gobbler issues some kind of command to these underlings, and they stop maybe five yards away from the hidden hunter. Which wouldn't be a problem, except Chuck's brother back in Mississippi is wondering how the hunt is going, and puts in a call to Chuck's cell phone. Thank goodness the phone was set to vibrate. Remember what was said earlier about being lucky. One of the jakes hears the strange noise and gives a warning putt to his amigos. They wandered off, thankfully, with Chuck waiting for his chance at the mature bird. Finally it came, exactly 14 minutes later. How can we be so precise? Chuck checked the time of that incoming call. Upon this successful execution of his second Rio at Adobe Lodge, he immediately called his brother with the news. The interval between the calls was 14 minutes. Which might seem like a month under those conditions.
So Mississippi Chuck had one heck of a time in collecting his pair of birds. But Indiana Chuck and Aaron had a heck of a time in hunting the Rios, too. And that is why we continue to be amazed at turkey hunters. Whether they kill or whether they don't, their love of their sport is infectious. They love turkey hunting; we love turkey hunters.
We can hardly wait for 2009. Judging from all the jakes seen this season, next year ought to be awesome. Don't be left out. Contact us today to get your date reserved. Come see what pure-dee turkey hunting is all about. |
Hunt 9 May 1-4, 2008
Picayune, Mississippi sent seven hunters for our late-season Adobe Lodge turkey campaign. All were somehow kin to one another, and a turkey-hunting family they were for sure. Their passion for the sport runs broad and deep. This Texas hunt was to complete an annual grand slam of birds for some of them. The pressure was on. Some won, and some lost. Any veteran turkey hunter can tell you that the birds have a way of breaking your heart and humbling even the most dedicated turkey fanatic. This hunt confirmed it; we saw the highs and the lows. In our commitment to putting up an accurate website, we chronicle the good and the bad.
Three of the group were the Stockstill brothers: Ricky, Huey Jr., and David. Huey hunted with son, Huey III (a high school senior) and David brought son, Grey (seventh grade). The other two hunters were Glenn Bates and Tim Kellar, both of whom have considerable numbers of turkeys to their lifetime credit. All seven hunters were first-time Adobe Lodge hunters, and we enjoyed getting to know the whole group. Their accounts of their collective experiences back during Hurricane Katrina were unbelievable. The destruction left by that storm was beyond belief.
Speaking of wind, the first afternoon's hunt was mighty breezy, but everyone got a good look at the area to be hunted the following morning. Sure enough, that next mornings harvest was as good as we have seen all season - for some of the hunters, that is. While Huey Jr. and III were having their share of problems, the other five brought in seven turkeys that first morning. Twelve-year-old Grey Stockstill collected his first ever gobbler. Ricky got two with one shot. David's gobbler had a spur measuring 1 1/2 inches (the season's best so far). Tim Kellar also collected a pair of birds. Glenn Bates took one bird. It was a banner morning for these five hunters.
The best news is that, at least for several of the group, the toms appeared to be responding to the calls. Better than they have up to now at least. David said that big gobbler of his worked just like the books say he was supposed to do. But then again, over on one of our Prime Ranches, poor Huey played his call to those toms without success. He could only watch them go the other way after fly-down.
As the hunt moved along, the luck never changed for the pair of Hueys. Huey Jr. really needed that gobbler to complete his annual grand-slam. We had him hunting virtually all day long with precious little rest all three days . He hunted several promising areas. He did his part, and more. But neither Huey Jr. or III managed to collect a tom the whole time. The closest Huey Jr. came was finding only a couple of feathers from a 50+ yard shot he had chanced. Despite an hour-long search, the Rio was never found. And doggone the luck, anyway.
While Huey was getting beat-up in the turkey battles, brother David managed to take a couple more longbeards with one shot. So he had his grand slam with a pair to spare and said he was having the best turkey hunt of his career.
Glenn Bates and Ricky Stockstill had a unique experience one afternoon. They got a good look at a mountain lion. They saw him (her?) run across a ranch road to disappear into the brush. Armed with only a camera and a shotgun, they got on the trail and sure enough, got to within 50-60 yards of said cat, which didn't appear to be overly spooked. Certainly that distance was not close enough for a shotgun, and somehow the camera just never found the cat. So the cat got away unscathed and un- photoed. We'll take their word for it. When anyone sees a mountain lion, their descriptions of what they saw are remarkably similar. Almost always, the cat is seen for only the briefest of time, but even so, that encounter will make a strong impression on the lucky viewer. What was unusual about Glenn and Ricky's experience is that they were able to move toward the feline without running it off. And they got to look at it for an unusually long period of time.
Each year, seems like, we will hear of a few (3-4) similar sightings of mountain lions. So far, despite the countless man-hours we could tabulate of Adobe Lodge hunters and guides in the field, armed with high powered guns,too - no one has yet been able to take one of these cougars. One of these days, someone will. But it will almost certainly have to happen quickly. You just don't "get ready" for a mountain lion; you have to "be ready".
So to summarize Hunt # 9, here is the final tally for the record book: seven hunters took nine birds. One took three, two took a pair each, two took a single bird, and two hunters took zero. One more hunt next weekend will conclude our 2008 Home Camp turkey season. The days are warming now - up to 90 degrees at times - but the fronts continue to pass through the area and when they do, it can be downright chilly with the wind. Glenn Bates said he was shivering one morning while waiting for daylight. |
Hunt 8 April 25-28, 2008
Number-freaks will be alert to the fact that we had no # 7 hunt. We skip boldly from our sixth hunt to # 8. Reason: no one booked on # 7.
With the hunting at the Mustang Ranch last week being, shall we say, less than ideal, we elected to move three hunters scheduled to hunt that camp to the Home place where hunting has been a bit better. So those three Virginia hunters Jerry Amos and his two sons, Todd and Derek, joined another VA hunter, Dirk Swanson at the Home Camp. The only non-Virginian in camp was Derek's guest, Sam Huddleston. But Sam, living at Johnson City, TN, is within a long rifle shot of Virginia. So everyone in camp used a similar accent, which isn't that much different from West Texas. It was like old Home week. Our kind of folks. All were first-time Adobe Lodge hunters.
The hunt was dominated by a huge storm which moved through the area on the second day of the hunt. Up until this major weather event, the hunt had been going pretty good, with everyone seeing and working birds - mainly jakes. But some gobblers were taken, as well.
Jerry Amos saw something unusual - a couple of hens perched in a tree at 2 p.m. What could cause that? It was bright and sunny, too. Jerry managed to "thread a needle in the Texas brush" with a shot to collect his turkey. And then Sam Huddleston nailed one at 52 steps with his Benelli. All the news was good. Then, the storm hit.
It thundered all night but not much rain fell. By daylight it was windy with a cold east wind blowing, and some of the hunters wisely elected to hang out in the lodge. More rain came as the front finally blew through, and the hearing/calling conditions were less than ideal the rest of Day Two. The wind got out of the north and turned quite cold.
As you might suspect, there was a-plenty of gobbling the next morning, and the temperature was record-setting chilly. There was even some frost found - quite a rare site in late-April in West Texas. The temperature the first day was over 90 degrees. The final morning, the thermometer at the lodge said 37. So what kind of clothes do you bring on a springtime Texas hunt? That's easy - bring'em all.
Hunters were hearing lots of gobbling before daylight, but even so, the birds are still following the 2008 playbook by working almost not at all. This is proving to be frustrating for the turkey purist. No doubt there are tunes to be played on a call that might work a bit better than others, but no one is complaining about gobblers running over them out in the woods. Someone saw a group of three gobblers at a water trough. What does this mean? Several single hens were observed. Does this mean the hens are now mostly nesting? The signs are all there if we are smart enough to read them.
The five hunters, despite the lost day due to the weather, did o.k. with two collecting two birds, two collecting a single each, and one hunter drawing a blank. A missed shot might have produced another turkey. But such events are all too common in the sport. Other gobblers dodged danger by leaving their roost trees by unexpected routes - clearly a violation of the rules of engagement.
We have two more hunts yet to go before we can call it a season. Stay tuned for further reports from the Home Camp.
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Hunt # 6 April 18-21
What with all the events going on in our part of Texas, we were lucky to get all our hunters to camp. Sleepy San Angelo isn't used to being mentioned on every news cast all day long. Lawyers and state officials who came to work on the FLDS Church hearing took up every available room in town. Moreover, there were thousand of delayed planes nationwide cause by wiring harness problems. Somehow, even with hunters arriving the day of the hunt, we got everything kicked off almost on time, although we had to delay our orientation meeting to just before supper on that first day in camp.
In camp was a party of four, two parties of two each, and a single hunter. Considering that the birds are still proving to be very difficult to work (even by experts with years of experience), the hunters distinguished themselves by putting fourteen birds on our tally board. Here's the way it looked at the conclusion of the hunt: six hunters had two each; two had one each; and one hunter had zip.
But statistics are always subject to further analysis and interpretation. What's the old saying about "figures lie and liars figure"? Here's how this hunt will complicate our number-keeping: one of the hunters wasn't really a hunter but took a bird anyway, and didn't even try for a second gobbler. Talk about screwing up our statistics. We don't have a category anywhere to describe such a mishmash. Here are the details:
The perpetrator, David Harp, came not to hunt but only to take photos. So you ought to count him as a non-hunter, right? David objected to such a notation on our tally board and suggested "Red-Shirted" instead. It seems that David Harp had a shoulder injury and chose to be here only for the adventure of accompanying his amigos. But on one of his photo outings, David wisely elected to take a gun in addition to his camera. (Snakes? Predators?). But then, when a nice turkey came running into his area, David simply could not, in his excitement, keep from shooting the turkey, and never mind that shoulder. You might say "The Gun Went Off In His Hand". Thankfully, David's shoulder survived, but he swore off guns for the duration.
So the non-hunter gets credited with a turkey, but Brad Milner, a hunter, failed to get a turkey. Brad, who has hunted both deer and turkey with us numeous times, drew blanks for the entire three days. The gobbles and the turkeys just never came his way. His son, James, however, did very well taking a couple of fine birds. We fathers always mark the milestone when our offspring's achievments pass our own. Brad was understandably proud of James. And James had one heck of an adventure. Here's what happened: in the dim, early light one morning, James saw something strange. Very, very strange. Sure wasn't a turkey. Sure wasn't any species of livestock. Hmmmm - what could it be? Although he was fairly close, he couldn't quite make out the form.
Later that morning and close to where the strange sighting occurred, James found a partially-eaten deer, stuffed up under a bush. The carcass was covered with dry grass and branches. Classic signs of a mountain lion. Was this what James had seen earlier?
The other hunters in the group with David Harp were Logan Russell, Dan Hughes and Marc Dupuy, Jr. These men are all associated with the Delta Land Trust in Mississippi. All three collected two birds each. Marc is 80 years old and is still hunting turkeys, which can be an inspiration for all of us as we get older. Hunting has got to be good for you. The keys to healthy living: eat right, exercise, hunt. Simple.
Dan Hughes, an experienced international wing shooter, waterfowl hunter, and turkey man if there ever was one, saw something that you just simply would never expect to see. He was watching a group of eight jakes across the river, maybe 75 yards distant. He spotted a bobcat creeping/sneaking up on the assembled flock. But the jakes happened to see the feline before he got too close and they quickly rushed the surprised cat to send him packing. We wished David and his camera had been there.
Benson Green hunted deer with us back in 2004 and it was great to see him again. Benson introduced us to his friend, Riley Palmer. Both are from the Tallahassee area of Florida. Benson collected a couple of gobblers and Riley took one tom.
The final hunter in camp was Bert Jones from Bremen, AL. Bert hunted turkeys with us last spring and came on one of our no-frills deer hunts last fall. Bert's two gobblers were almost twins. Both weighed exactly 18.0 lbs; their beards differed by only 1/8", and one of the four spurs was 1/8" longer than one inch. Has anyone been cloning turkeys?
If so, they need to make them gobble more than these birds are doing. Hunters are reporting moderate gobbling on the roost at dawn, but the birds go silent soon after getting dust between their toes. It is difficult to pinpoint just where the birds are in their annual breeding cycle. Some hunters report seeing a gobbler surrounded by large numbers of hens. Others report seeing the occassional lone (but silent) gobbler. Everyone reports seeing lots and lots of jakes. This is good news for next year, but hey, we still have things to get accomplished this season. The birds seem to have adopted a new rule book, and they ain't talking much. We will continue to file reports from the front line of the turkey battles. It's never over till it's over, and we have about three more weeks to settle the score with these dudes. |
Hunt 5 April 14-17, 2008
There is an old story about the cowboy who came in from his ranch one winter day to attend church in town. Because of the inclement weather, he happened to be the only person in the congregation that day. The pastor of the church was undecided how to proceed. Should he abbreviate the service because there was only one member in attendance, or should he conduct the proceedings as he normally would? He elected to do his regular service.
At the conclusion, the minister was standing at the door of the church to greet the lone participant, and the preacher asked the cowboy how he had liked the service. The cowboy thought a minute and said, "Well, parson, if I went out to the pasture to feed all my cows and only one of them showed up at the wagon, I don't believe I would feed her the whole load."
So how does this story apply to our hunting operation. In setting our schedule and in booking hunters, we have to take them as they come. Sadly, we got only one booking for our Hunt # 5, and just like that preacher mentioned above, we elected to give Ken Davis the whole she-bang. Camp manager Kyle Ezell had to wear several hats during the production: he was the cook, the game skinner, the guide and the photographer. So credit Kyle with a job well done.
Ken, the hunter, did his part well, too. But being an experienced old pro hunting the Eastern species of turkeys back in North Carolina, Ken had to suffer some trials and tribulations before he finally learned that Rio Grande turkeys play by different rules than he is used to. Ultimately, he adjusted his game plan and became quite successful. For the entire first half of the hunt, though, it was a different story.
Hindsight being twenty-twenty, Ken decided he had initially made several critical errors, the most glaring of which was that he had moved around too much. He had walked too far and played his call too much in an effort to raise a gobble, although that style works fine back home in the thick woods of North Carolina. By using this Home Tactic here in West Texas, he heard no gobble and worked no birds the first day and a-half. He had seen a few turkeys, but bumped most of them - (ain't never a good idear to bump no birds, man.) Clearly, his frustration level was on the rise.
The second half of the hunt, Ken changed tactics completely. During his travels across that hunting area (1800+ acres), he had spotted a little valley he judged to show some promise. He decided to camp out in that one likely area - well away from any roosting site. He would, get this, abandon hunting the early morning gobbling and fly-down. Talk about resolve and discipline. Not many turkey hunters are capable of such.
To heck with walking, moving and calling. He constructed a blind from limbs and branches, having learned that the turkeys would shy away from any kind of commercial "pop-up" blind. As the day unfolded, turkeys began to show up surprisingly early, even though he was a mile from the river. Hens came, and then fairly soon, he was presented with a flock of eight jakes, which drifted by on their way to who know where. Since he was unsure if he would see anything else before his hunt ended, Ken decided that taking a jake was better that a seeing a goose-egg along side his name on our tally board.
After transporting said jake to camp and after a quick, early lunch, Ken returned and did, indeed, take a gobbler in the traditional manner of "call'em up close and shoot'em". Activity was steady all day, and before it was over, he had seen five other long beards (plus numerous jakes and hens). He never moved all day long. Once again - HE STAYED IN THE SAME SPOT ALL DAY LONG. And look how productive his hunting became. There is a lesson here for those who have ears to hear. Furthermore, Ken said, using his hen decoy was the only way he was able to successfully get the toms to within shooting range. "Don't leave home without it", as they say. He says the jake and the gobbler decoys not only didn't work, they actually worked against him.
Regarding calling, Ken said he was so close to several droves of hens that he simply tried to make the same sound they were making. Ken described it as "not a yelp, putt, nor purr. It was a high-pitched screech." The only call in his possession that made a similar sound was an aluminum slate played with a graphite striker. We intend to pass along all of Ken's tactics and tips to the rest of our hunters this season. Of course, the turkeys will probably elect to change their habits, but right now, the "sit-still-and-call-every-half-hour" ploy seems to work best. Sure did for Ken. |
Hunt # 4 April 10-13, 2008
There is no telling how many times Evo Rondini and Danny Noles have hunted with us, but this was the first time both have been in camp at the same time. Previous hunters this season had predicted the calling was going to get better and better, and with these two old-pros in the field, we were eager to see what would happen.
Evo, from Harwinton, CT, brought his daughter once again (maybe her third trip), and Julie is a chip off the old block if there ever was one - she shares her dad's passion for turkey hunting. Out in the field, you'll find Julie doing the hearing and shooting while Evo is working the calls. He'd rather call'em than shoot'em. Since Evo can't hear too good out of one ear, he has trouble determining the direction from which a gobble comes. So when the father/daughter double-team every bird, they make an effective and formidable pair. Turkeys, beware.
Danny Noles, originally from eastern Alabama now living in Dallas, brought Taylor Manning for Taylor's first-ever turkey hunt. Both work for Met Life. Taylor did, in fact, collect his first-ever turkey - a jake -, and when he left camp, Taylor showed all the symptoms of having succumbed to the incurable affliction of "turkey fever". Poor Taylor might be ruined for life. Danny, with a terminal case of the disease, hunts turkeys often and regularly during the entire season and gets his biggest kick out of introducing newcomers to the sport. Indeed, Danny is working on a unique grand-slam this season: he is trying to get a turkey for all three of his young sons plus himself.
The night before Hunt # 4 commenced at noon, a large storm system moved through the area with hail and high winds. The first afternoon, it was windy and blustery, but from then on, the weather was almost perfect. It was chilly (around 40) before daylight, but would warm to 75 or so during the day.
During the hunt, Evo's calling had been attracting lots of jakes but few gobblers. Julie and Evo had collected three birds going into the final morning hunt. They set up a good 500 yards from a roosting area, and, with plenty of gobbling heard from yonder trees, Evo began calling hens. Sure enough, along comes a pair of them after a bit, with a gobbler trailing behind by a considerable distance. When Julie gets him on the ground, they find he has three beards. Our second multi-bearded trophy of he season. So the pair finished the game with four Rios to their credit.
Danny and Taylor's adventure did not have that story book ending. The first morning, Danny and Taylor had been set-up near Danny's favorite honey-hole-roost. With gobbling rolling like thunder up and down the draw, it was going to be a cinch. Sho'nuff - here they came. Several longbeards. As luck would have it, the birds drifted toward the old pro instead of toward the rookie. Should have been a fatal mistake. Danny was ready. He "filled the air with lead". But no gobbler fell. What??? No gobbler??? When, during the post-mortem back at the lodge, he was asked if he'd missed, Danny replied, "Which shot?". Come to find out, he's missed three of them. Karla Parker, Danny's long-time friend back in Alabama, when she learned of this event, counseled: "Danny, I don't believe I would have told that."
Then, it got worse. The second morning, even with Danny playing his expert tunes on his calls, the gobblers this time showed zero interest in coming to his seductive lullaby. They chose to follow a tree line to leave the roost site. Despite their best efforts, the pair of hunters was unable to intercept the flock, or to gain ground on them at all. The birds disappeared up and over a bald hill.
So the third and final morning, they changed tactics. Danny and Taylor set up on that tree line. The dastardly gobblers went (wouldn't you know it?) right where the pair had been set-up the day before. Upon hearing of this frustrating turn of events, we couldn't help but remember Woody Morrison's prescription of just last week: "Make a plan, then do the opposite of that; then do the opposite of that." If Danny and Taylor had followed "The Woody Principle", they would have been positioned for the kill. Assuming no more misses, that is.
Tiger Woods didn't win the Masters, and Danny Noles didn't get a gobbler. But you can bet that both will be out playing their respective games at the next opportunity. |
Hunt # 3 April 6-9, 2008
Almost a year ago, our old Savannah buddy, Andy Chisholm (who brought his son, Kip, on our first-ever rabbit hunt several years ago), called to book a turkey hunt for himself, Kip, and several friends. Besides the seven in camp from Georgia, we had Andy's long-time amigo Woody Morrison and his son, Millard from New Orleans. In fact, there was a third father/son pair: Ben and Colin Oxnard. The Hungerpiller brothers, who were here back in '06, returned again this time to hunt with a normal shotgun. Also back for a return visit was Walker Martin. Walker, it should be noted, was the only hunter on hand without a relative in camp.
So if you've been doing the math, we had nine hunters in camp. It won't take long to tout up the turkeys taken by the group. They collected a total of three longbeards. Yep, that's it - just three turkeys for all nine hunters.
Our reports on the McManus Camp and the Mustang Ranch Camp, whose hunt dates almost coincided with this hunt, also tell the same dismal tale of the bird's failure to cooperate during these particular days of the season. What could be the cause? The new moon came on April 5. Does the moon affect turkey hunting?
Admittedly, some of the hunters on this Home Camp hunt date were relatively new to the sport. You put a few rookies into a tough game, and you shouldn't be surprised when you don't score many points. But it wasn't for lack of trying, that's for sure. Hunters didn't lollygag around the lodge. They were where they were supposed to be - out hunting turkeys.
Take John Hungerpiller, for example. He wasn't having much luck in getting the gobblers to come to him. This, of course, is the passion for those who practice the sport. When one particular gobbler showed little interest in coming to John's nicely played calls, John, being the resourceful, dedicated, and devious hunter that he is, decided on the spot to change the rules of engagement . John would go to the turkey's calling instead of vice-versa. Trouble was, John had to belly-crawl the final seventy yards to make the shot. But he got his bird.
Sometimes the turkey hunting is good; sometimes it's not so good. And frankly, there just ain't no guarantees about our Adobe Lodge turkey hunting except this one: sooner or later, YOU ARE GUARANTEED to hear a good story.
Sure enough, on the final night in camp, sitting around the fire pit enjoying an adult beverage before the rib eyes were served, those in attendance were engaged in multiple re-plays of the events of the day. Woody Morrison and son Millard had been out-foxed once again, despite having a sure-fire battle plan that afternoon.
Here's what they had done: they divided up (to conquor?) with Millard taking a light-caliber rifle to guard the far side of the field while Woody stayed in a stand of mesquite trees a half-mile away along the river. Oodles of turkeys had been seen in the area. It was a "can't fail" plan. They were determined. Here they were in the final third of their hunt, still with no bird to either hunter's credit. Their plan was perfect: it was as good as a done deal. They would get a gobbler for sure.
So here are some classic comments during the post-hunt analysis there at the fireside made by the frustrated father/son pair, scribbled down by an eavesdropping visitor:
"For about 8-10 seconds, I was the smartest hunter at Adobe Lodge."
"I already had him cooked and eaten."
"But he was too far for the shotgun. He wasn't supposed to be that far."
"I couldn't find him in the scope."
"I was tired. I was hurting. But he was coming. If I move, the game's over."
"I could see him standing there, but I still couldn't find him in my scope."
"He wasn't supposed to be that far."
"That turkey didn't do what he was supposed to do." (How many turkey hunters over the years have said these very words?)
"I didn't realize these birds are that smart."
"There is always tomorrow morning."
For years, we have warned our hunters that they need to plan their strategy for that day's hunt. "You can't hunt successfully without a plan", we counseled, only half in jest.
Woody Morrison took this to heart, but then went several steps further when he came up with this gem, sure to become a classic statement in the world of turkey hunting:
"If you consider what you think you ought to be doing, then do the opposite, and then do the opposite of that, you might get a turkey."
One thing you have to say about turkey hunters, they may lose a game every now and then. But each season they are allowed to simply participate in the great spring ritual is a huge, unqualified success. Especially for those who hunt for all the right reason. For these folks, there are only two kinds of turkey hunts: good ones and great ones. There are no BAD ones.
Mercy - how we love turkey hunters.
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Hunt 2 April 2-5, 2008
What a difference a year makes. When this group of Arkansas hunting buddies was here in 2007 for their annual turkey hunting contest, they had to hunt in snow and ice. Not so this season. The weather was mighty pleasant, and so was the hunting. The tally board showed eight hunters taking fifteen gobblers, only one of which was a jake.
Mind you, the gobblers are still playing hard to get. An old pro's diagnosis is that it is still a bit too early - the turkeys are only just now beginning to realize that spring is here and they need to get busy doing their thing. The best success seemed to come from the old trick of calling to the hens who might thereby lead a gobbler to within range of a 12 gauge. Warren Jennings, Jr, when asked which call he used to accomplish this feat, admitted that he had tried almost every one he could find in his bag.
Due to this annual contest among friends, serious turkey hunting was a given. But despite this fact, we actually caught them having fun at times, shocking though that might seem. For the serious minded, here's how their contest is run: by draw, the eight hunters are paired into four groups. All birds taken are scored, and the high point team gets their name engraved on a plaque which has been around for years and years now. They will be immortalized as turkey hunters, you might say. Rumor had it that money somehow figured into the deal, but we could find no witnesses who would agree to talk for the record.
The birds are scored by adding the weight, the beard length x 2, and each spur length x 10. So, for example, a 20 lb tom with a 10" beard and 1" spurs would score 60, a very respectable bird, indeed. This illustrates the phenomenal feat of Eddy Hord who took a four-bearded Rio scoring 105+. Most remarkably, he did this with a bow. Collecting a gobbler in the springtime with a bow has to be one of the supreme challenges of the sport. And what's more, that bird was one of two taken with that magical bow that day. Amazing.
In addition to Eddy's incredible accomplishment, there was yet another good story which came from Hunt 2. It seems that Brice Fletcher (hunting here for the first time) was out before daylight, sitting up against a pasture fence in a blind he had hand-made from branches and mesquite limbs the day before. History books will place this event as being on the final day of the hunt. Brice had been getting up early for several days, so you might forgive him for falling asleep in that blind while awaiting daybreak and the action that was sure to come. And come it did - in spades. He was awakened by a sound. Wasn't quite like drumming, and it sure wasn't a gobble, but it clearly originated from a critter who was very, very nearby. Suddenly, Brice was as wide-awake as a tree full of owls. What was making that noise?
Turned out to be an inquisitive cow. Dressed in full camo as he was, how could Brice have been busted by a dumb-ole cow? She came closer and finally closer. And she brought a bull with her. Now Brice is no cowboy, and he had no idea how to escape his predicament. Suddenly, Brice was surrounded by even more bovines, all of whom were crowding in for a better look at this queer creature over there by the fence. Brice had absolutely no escape route. His panic button was about to go off. What to do now? Turkey hunting was abandoned and moved to the bottom of his priority list. Salvation from the wild beasts of the field was his most immediate goal.
Brice was offered only one small chance to escape. There was a small hole or dirt pathway (a rabbit trail?) right there under the net wire fence. Somehow, someway that little beacon became his salvation just before the cows and that powerful bull were about to grind him to powder under their hooves. Brice did what he had to do and the story had a happy ending. You might say that Brice just had to "Cowboy Up" there for a spell. Here's a lesson for all turkey hunters: don't fall asleep in a pasture where cows roam. Turkey hunting is more than a sport - it can be an adventure. |
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