Originally posted in http://www.kentuckyhunting.net

Ever since we took possession of our farm in 2001, we’ve had trouble with poachers. I’ve caught a few, and let most of them go with a stern warning. Those are the ones I’ve met face to face. After one discussion of the issues involved, they don’t come back. I’ve called the tip line on a few others. I have also sent packets to the two wildlife officers that include letters of permission to visit, maps with property boundaries and summaries of the poachers doings. Up until today, I had not seen a poacher actually caught by law enforcement. I’m still trying to decide if I agree with the results.

About 11 this morning, I was sitting on the front porch. I heard a gobbler sound off and decided to strike off after him. A half hour later, I was sitting in the center of my property when 4 shots went off in quick succession. I could not be certain it came from my property, but it was way too close to me in either case. I picked up and moved. An hour later, I heard another string of 4 shots. These I knew exactly the location, and so I went to investigate. When I got there, I found a 2-man blind and all the gear. The only thing missing was the poachers and their shotguns; they’d shed everything else– blinds, outerwear, hats, the works. I saw one escaping.

“For one thing, if you are so low as to run away rather than ask permission.” I said. “I don’t want any part of you. You can all go to hell. For another, 2 strings of 4 shots and no gobbler to show for it? You are absolutely the most inept turkey hunters I’ve ever seen. Get out of this county and never come back.” I’m sure my voice carried well into the next county. There’s probably a few extra epithets in there I’m missing, but you get the general idea.

I grabbed as much gear as I could carry. “By the way,” I added. “I am calling the authorities, and yes, I am still loaded. I’d suggest you do not follow me.”

I did just that. I went back to my gear and pulled out my cell phone. I couldn’t remember the county Wildlife Officer’s number, so I just called 911. I ended up getting the dispatcher in the next county. She dispatched two Kentucky State Police officers to my location. They met with me on my front porch. I recited the story I have just given you.

While we were chatting, I saw a man coming through one of my fields and pointed him out to the police. The officers called for the man to come up out of the field. The man complied. They interrogated him. I heard a first name, and he finally admitted to hunting with a partner. I recognized the partner’s name. I had given him permission to hunt in 2005 and renewed the written permission for strictly Modern Weapons Deer Season for two succeeding years. According to my log book, on October 21, 2007, I renewed it for the last time. At that time, I repeated a story I had heard from a neighbor who had seen his car parked in my apron during Gobbler Season. I told him about that, and the two sets of feathers I had found in my fields and he denied hunting there. I took his word for it, but reiterated that my permission to hunt was just what it said: deer only and only an area specified on a map, and reviewed with the hunter as we drove the property. The blinds I had found today were well out of that area.

The state police went off with the one hunter back to their trailer and found the fellow who’s name I had recognized and one other hunter. They did not find a repeating shotgun. They came back and said they had told the three hunters to leave the county immediately and not come back. Two of them had now admitted to hunting my property, but gave a series of excuses, topping it off with “We were scared he was going to do something to us, so we ran.”

Shortly after the police left the second time, I received a visit from my neighbor. I told him what had happened. He related a story of finding a treestand on his small adjoining parcel, and that the young man’s father had been the one to claim it. As we compared notes, we realized that this was probably the party that had slipped between us on Opening Day of Spring Gobbler Season on my side of the property line– three parties of hunters (a total of at least 6 hunters) all within 150 yards of each other, and all three not knowing where the other was, and all actively calling. That is a dangerous situation to say the least. There was also a story of blinds that had gone missing. The description matched the ones I had found on the property. One I had left, the other had gone with the state police and been returned to the hunters when they had been told to depart. I took my neighbor out to the place I had found the blinds. He identified the one remaining as his.

I thought this information was worthy of additional action. I called the county’s wildlife officer. He didn’t know why I hadn’t called him in the first place:

“You should call me.”

“I just did.”

“But you should have called me first. I could have cited them right there.”

“I’m sorry. I forgot your number. All I could remember was 911.”

“Well, you could have called me afterwards.”

“I just did. I’ve got the names and addresses.”

This was going nowhere. I like our WO. He’s a good guy. I told him I was kind of two minds on this whole thing. I knew the boy’s father, and I knew he was an invalid. I knew this would go hard on the family.

“That’s where you’re wrong.” said the WO. “You’ve got to get on this early and show them what the consequences are. That way they learn before they start doing serious things.”

Cool by me. I’m willing to appear. I will fill out an affidavit. I am willing to do what it takes. For once, I had:

The names addresses and phone numbers of the perpetrators. They would be in the report filed by the state police. I’d had the state police apprehend one of the perps on my property tresspassing in turkey hunting garb.
Two hunters had confessed to the police to hunting on my property without proper permission and claimed the gear I had found as their own.

I had everything except the struggling bodies trussed up and waiting by the road, and the unplugged shotgun still smoking.

The wildlife officer asked for additional information, so I called over to the state trooper’s office in Dry Ridge. They called me back and said they’d spoken to the WO already. It was settled. They were all going to watch my place more closely, and I was to report any new poaching incidents. I called the wildlife officer again. He repeated what the state trooper had said. Catching these guys once in three years was hard enough, but now I needed to catch them again, and somehow better document the act– better than having two state policemen find the guy trying to slip back over the property line. I expressed concern: now that these guys have done it, gotten caught, and been warned, the next meeting will be far more worrisome for them.

Granted, I’m not a resident of this county. My Dad owns the farm. He’s in his eighties, and is not up to hunting turkeys, let alone humans with guns. He leaves it to me to keep the peace. I’m not even a resident of the state. Some would say I really don’t have a pony in this race. I’m not trying to make a fuss. I’m not trying to complain. I love coming to Kentucky, and I really appreciate y’all having me over to hunt. It’s just that after seven years of putting up with the poachers, I finally get a couple bagged, and all I can do is let them go. The excuses of there being a “hole in the fence.” and “We did not really know where the property boundaries were,” and “I didn’t know the letter was just for deer season, ” when repeated in rapid succession really do work . Leaving the shotgun without the plug out back of the trailer before the cops show up really does work. Even though there were posted signs that one perp admitted to reading on their way in, even though there is a classified in every issue of the local paper warning would-be trespassers to stay away, and despite diligence of the landowner and his family in informing folks of the boundaries and enforcing them relentlessly, the poachers still walk free. All their hunting gear I schlepped out of the woods is back in their hands, courtesy of the state police. I am just a visitor here, but I thought you would all like to know. I could have gone back out and hunted this evening, but I stayed in and wrote this instead.