You only need to look at Angus’ face in those pictures from a couple of weeks ago to see this season was not a failure. Still, after hunting 11 of the first 14 days of KY Spring Gobbler Season and 16 of the total 22-days, I have to say I feel beaten.

I ran into another turkey hunter at the diner in Berlin on the last Saturday of season. He was seated with two other guys, and they were all looking glum. His story was similar to everyone else I had met. He had manage to bag a bird, but he really had not been hunting, rather visiting his brother while he was bass fishing at nearby farm pond. He had spied a fan sticking out below the dam and went back to the truck for his shotgun.

I’m kind of the same way. I am not Old-Schooler by any stretch of the definition. However, everyone I talked to either went away from this season empty handed or had some story that put a bird down but somehow left a bad taste in your mouth. I had my share of odd-ball near misses.

One day I was busted by a large bearded hen– came out of nowhere. A couple of days later I ran into her again as I was coming in. She crossed the road in front of me. I threw my shotgun up, and saw the beard, but put it down again when I saw the blue head. Oh sure, it would have been legal. However, I was still looking to call a gobbler in at that point.

From what I hear the start of the troubles this year was the terrible winter. It forced the turkeys out of the ridges where I hunt and down into the bottomlands near the Licking River. Some folks I talked to had not heard a gobbler all season. Me? I guess I was lucky. I had gobblers gobbling in front of me most mornings, but in most cases they flew down and disappeared at sun-up. My guess is that the gobblers never got out of view of the hens and it made for a season where I seldom got a gobbler to honor my calls. When they did, they were throwing a quick gobble over their shoulders as they were walking away. Some mornings, I would throw out the first tree call, and every gobbler on the ridge would clam up, leaving me feeling like a wet fart at a wedding.

One morning, I did get some reasonable answers, but it was also the day the big thunderstorms came through. I had pre-positioned all my gear in the Jagende Hutte the night before. I ran out between storms and got situated before the next blow came. From sunrise to Noon, I was calling between squalls, and had a couple of gobblers on their way, but the next storm coming through would drive them away and I would have to start over 40 minutes later when the rain lifted.

I never once saw gobblers in the fields, strutting. Nor did I see many hens sneaking away to make nests. All-in-all, Spring felt like it was a fortnight behind itself, and I finally noticed the woods starting to green-up to about the level of a normal Opening Week during the last few days of season. I will tell you another one: every where I went I saw acorns as fresh as the day they were dropped laying about the ground. My guess is the cold winter protected and hid them, and they only became evident as the snow melted. I suspect that was what kept the hens in the woods and hence the gobblers.

When the turkeys do not respond abnormally, it is time to work outside the box. At least that is the turkey hunters’ catechism. Okay. I was out of the box. When the Honey Hole was not producing, I went to the woods. I tried all the funky tricks. I would work both sides of a holler and then double back on myself to pick up any gobblers that might be trailing me. Nope. I tried afternoon and evening hunts. That was partially successful. I did get a stray cluck from a gobbler on the second Saturday after 3 hours of steady calling. I had a great 270 degree view of Dead Skunk Holler. I called in hyperdrive from 2 to 5 in the afternoon. At 5:30, I leaned over to sip what was left of my morning coffee only to  hear a gobbler cluck of the back of my right shoulder. I turned just in time to see a gobbler go vertical at 10 yards.

Another day, I heard a stray gobble as I was coming out at noon, coming from Virginia, the little finger ridge that #2 son, Moose favors. For two hours I worked that bird, but he never came closer than 60 yards through the blown-down cedars. There were hens between him and me, holed up in a side gulley. I connected with him on another day, but he would not leave his hens. Eventually I gave up and took a nap, only to awaken an hour later with a flock of vultures trying to figure out how to pick me apart.

Let’s get Philosophical

I have to admit that if I had filled both tags, I would not be writing about the philosophy of all this.  you will have to remember that I went my first 10 years of turkey hunting only seeing a gobbler in my fifth and ninth seasons.  You might opine that I was not a very good turkey hunter, and probably I was not in those days. Understand, due to the laws extent in Ohio at the time, I would have to drive 3 hours , five counties over, to hunt one half-day before driving back.  As a result, my turkey hunting became more of a religious pilgrimage than anything else. In a lot of ways it still is.

My point is that there are many things a man can do with his life that will lead to success with will and patience.  However, few things lend themselves to certain failure the way turkey hunting does. Certainly, if you hunt enough places and spend enough time and pay for guides and such, you will get yourself a bird.  To what end? At what point do you realize that you have only created a very inefficient system for procuring turkey meat.

Most professional turkey hunters do that.  I could too, if I wanted.  However, I find it a reasonable challenge to take on the birds on one 200 acre plot every year and let things happen as they may. I  feel spending my time on my own land is worth the two weeks or so, and if you figure that in 13 seasons I have generated  dozens of shooting opportunities for myself and others, that is a pretty fair score. Seasons like this keep me humble.

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