It was only three days into a Vermont turkey hunt, but I was already discouraged by the lack of interaction and the abnormally reticent birds. I’d returned to camp after the mandatory noon closure and was sorting through gear when my hunting companion, George, pulled up, gave a casual nod, then opened the trunk of his rental car and pulled out a fat longbeard. My jaw dropped. “How?” was all I could manage. We’d both been commiserating about how tough the birds were, questioning if our usual turkey hunting tactics were falling short. George was a stranger in town to boot, having flown up from Alabama, while this was my fourth season hunting these hills. He knew what I was thinking, and with a wry smile and a wink responded, “If you can’t call ‘em, crawl ‘em.”
Think what you want about his methods, but they were legal and effective. It would be great (though ultimately might lose some of its luster) if every turkey hunt went as scripted – roosting a flock, setting up in pre-dawn darkness and calling a randy tom to the gun at dawn.
That seldom happens; and sometimes even a slight change of plans doesn’t produce. Then there are those birds that seem downright un-killable. When you encounter them, it might be time to think outside the box call, throw the book away and try something more “unconventional.” While I don’t claim them all to be original or unique, I’ll share a few turkey hunting tactics that have worked for me.
Get Tight to the Roost
I usually give the birds a fighting chance when the game begins, starting with the conventional setting up and calling. Things can get more contentious when I encounter one of those birds that seems particularly averse to the sound of a turkey call. No matter where I set up, he flies down, shuts up and goes off in the opposite direction. That means I’ve got one chance to kill him.
After the retreat, I do a quick scout around the roost, looking for the most likely landing pad, make a few mental notes and prep for the next round. The following day I go in early, very early, and very quietly. There are some mornings when dead calm and dry leaves make it nearly impossible, but a little breeze or some precipitation the day before provide just enough of an edge. I get in as close as I dare, then ease myself down and get ready. If I do it right, the bird should be in range when its feet hit the ground.
Flock ‘Em
Kerry Hargrove
I was guiding a friend on what had been a particularly troublesome tom. The cold, wet spring seemed to have delayed the nesting season and the old boy still had a harem of nine hens. He had what he wanted and then some, and showed no interest in my most seductive serenade or trio of fake fowl. The birds were fairly routine, but even that offered little advantage. Once they left the roost, they spent most of the morning in the middle of a large pasture, well away from any concealment cover. There had to be another way.
After several failed attempts, we set out on the third morning with a new plan, slipped into our usual patch of cover and began setting out decoys, which took longer than usual this morning. When we were done, we’d staked out nine: six hens, two jakes and a strutting tom. The real tom seemed a bit perplexed when he first flew the roost and landed 100 yards away. The hens soon joined him and as they had the two previous mornings, the birds coalesced into a loose aggregation. The tom stoically stood his ground, but apparently the hens couldn’t stand the notion of a new gaggle of girls in the grass. One particularly vociferous hen started our way and the rest followed. They were in the decoys and starting to show signs of nervousness when the tom finally broke and came on the run.
Patience Plus: Playing the Waiting Game
On another occasion, I was the beneficiary of someone else’s scheme. At the time, K.C. Nelson worked for Mossy Oak and had been guiding turkey hunters for several weeks of Alabama’s spring season when I arrived on scene. We enjoyed each other’s company, but not much success over the first couple days but as we got to know one another better, he sensed I might be up for a challenge.
He’d been playing cat and mouse with a particularly cagey bird that, like the aforementioned tom, spent most of his day in a very large field; only he was more of a loner. He would occasionally answer calls, but never take a single step in their direction. More often he’d get lockjaw and disappear into the distance. Eventually, he always ended the day in a hardwood head, and that’s where we planned to meet him.
We took the very long way around, slipped silently into the woods and were set up around 2:30 in the afternoon. Every hour or so, I would pick up my slate, make a few soft purrs, then set it down. I’d be lying if I said K.C. and I remained wide awake the whole time, but we stuck it out. Light was growing dim, and I never would have known the bird was approaching if a crow hadn’t flown over and startled a single shock gobble out of the bird. It took another 30 minutes before he appeared, and another 10 before he was in range. He finally fell at 7:45 and sported 1-1/2-inch spurs.
More Patience: Capitalizing on Midday Lulls
Like most turkey hunters I prefer the early mornings when the birds are most active and vocal. The middle of the day can be painfully slow and quiet, but the birds are still out there, somewhere, and if you know what to look for, you might find a clue as to where.
Bob Humphrey
As noted, early morning is a busy period. Toms are strutting and gobbling and following the hens around while they gobble up bugs, seeds and plants until their crop is full. Then it’s time for a break. With hens off tending nests, toms have time to tend to themselves, particularly their plumage. In addition to preening, they’ll take a dust bath, presumably to rid themselves of feather lice. Those bowl-shaped depressions you occasionally find in loose, sandy soil make great stake-out spots during the slow time of the day. It doesn’t offer the exciting interaction we turkey hunters prefer, but the end sometimes justifies the means.
Russell: The Power of Natural Sounds
This one may not completely qualify as radical but it is underutilized. There’s a running joke among my hunting companions that anyone who is particularly noisy in the woods gets nicknamed Russell (rustle). But sometimes that can be an asset. When a bird hangs up or just won’t come to a seductive serenade, I sometimes employ what one of my hunting buddies refers to as a “suicide call.” I simply scratch the leaves, mimicking the sound of feeding turkeys – no clucks, purrs or yelps; just scratching. The sound can be irresistible, even for a call-shy bird.
Closing In: When to Move on a Hung-Up Bird
Let’s go back to the opening passage for a moment. It may not be the preferred or conventional method, and may draw the ire of turkey hunting purists and the more safety conscious among us, but going to a bird instead of waiting for it to come to you does require woodsmanship skills. We applaud those who can do it with other game like deer, elk or bears. Besides, you don’t always need to make the goal line when you’re in the red zone. Sometimes simply getting closer is enough.
When working toward a bird, I try to cut the distance roughly in half with each move. Then I’ll typically set up and try some calling, or maybe just scratching in the leaves. If the bird hangs up, keeps responding but won’t budge, there aren’t a lot of options. The book says you shouldn’t try to get any closer because you’ll end up spooking the bird, which is what usually happens. But if you can get into what turkey hunters call the “comfort zone,” sometimes that bird will break, and make a fatal mistake.
Jay Gao
The Fall Guy: Busting the Spring Roost
There are similarities and differences with spring and fall turkey hunting, but sometimes we fall into the trap of accepting them. You’d never bust up a flock and try to call them back in the spring, right? Why not? Think about those flocks, like the one I put out a full decoy spread for, that just won’t come your way. They have their routine but if you can disrupt it enough, they might make a mistake.
I learned this one somewhat by accident while hunting with a friend who hadn’t done his due diligence in scouting. While slipping in under cover of darkness one morning we accidentally stumbled under the roost and birds blew out of the treetops in every direction. We both figured the morning was lost but with no Plan B decided to settle in and make the best of it. The hens were more cautious, but like rutting bucks, the toms in that flock had a single-minded mission to re-unite with their harem, and we both brought home birds that morning. I have since tried busting a spring roost intentionally with mixed results. Think of this tactic as a last resort, or a reason not to give up if you do it by accident.
Turkeys Don’t Read: Defying the Odds
Clayton Worrell
When I first heard the gobblers they were a long way off. I ran toward them for a bit, then slowed to a fast walk. More gobbles indicated I still had room to get closer. Then I ran out of cover. I could see the flock, but the situation seemed hopeless. They were uphill, in an open pasture. Between us was a swamp bisected by a creek, a stonewall and a barbed wire fence, and not enough cover to get any closer. The book says any one of those obstacles would serious decrease my odds for success, but the combination indicated a virtual failure.
I don’t recall if it was stubbornness or naiveté, but I plopped down and started calling… and darned if a tom didn’t break from the flock, cross the fence, the wall, the creek and the swamp and walk to his death. Turkey hunting is a gamble and it’s always better to play the odds, but sometimes you have to play the hand you’re dealt.
Accidents: When Luck Plays a Role
The set-up seemed perfect. We scouted the field, roosted the birds and had a pretty good idea where they would go the following morning. I slipped in early, got set and was well positioned by a gap in a stone wall when the birds landed in the field and started my way. Plans changed quickly when I heard a shotgun blast and the birds launched into flight, in my direction. One unfortunate tom chose a route that sent him right past me, almost. My wingshooting instinct took over and the bird faltered and fell a short distance away.
While it’s not a deliberate strategy, sometimes you have to make split-second decisions and take advantage of the opportunities you’re presented. Experienced hunters know that you can do everything right and still come up short, and sometimes it all goes wrong but you still prevail. There’s an old saying that “I’d rather be lucky than good,” which certainly applies to turkey hunting. Even veterans go through slumps and when that happens, we welcome and appreciate the “gift” birds.
By now, you should be getting the idea, and formulating some of your own strategies. I’ve been at this game long enough, and killed enough birds that I’m mostly content with taking a bird on my terms or not at all. Still, occasionally I meet one that refuses to play by the rules. Some get a pass and I choose discretion as the better part of valor. Others… force me to employ alternative methods.
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