A Bow Turkey

Wow, what a morning! We got to one of our favorite spots early as false dawn was barely visible and sat on a stump awaiting the first gobble. The sun began to warm the earth, illuminating the fog coming off of the cool morning dew. Robins chirping and filling their empty stomachs after a long, cool night ran near us, rustling leaves. The woods were coming alive. Sounds of my dad and I breathing quietly were interrupted suddenly by one of my favorite sounds, a gobble. It was close by as well. We glanced at each other and formulated a plan quietly.

Sneaking around the edge of the once-used cow pasture, a gobble once again shattered the peaceful morning – this time even closer. We dropped low and crawled the the nearest cover, setting our DSD standing hen decoy out as we went. Carefully adjusting my arm as not to crush it underneath me, I hopped behind a tree and pulled out the most realistic sounding call I have ever encountered, a WoodHaven Wasp mouth call. One yelp, some putting and a purr. Movement. There was a turkey there I am sure, but all I could see was a giant beard swaying through the mist. 20 yards. 10 yards. He mounted the decoy, my dad drew his bow, or rather tried to. In the short time we had to get set up, he didn’t take his chance to get into a good shooting position. Now on his butt, he couldn’t draw!

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a lot of movement. 1, no, 3, wait, 8 jakes running in! I glanced back at the long beard and he had turned tail and fled. The jakes, breasts swaying as they ran, chased him away at full speed. I cringed, nearly shed a tear and knew there was no chance of getting that monster back in. The boss, my mom, had given us strict orders to bring a bird back today. I knew that this was the case and watched as my dad got into a better position to shoot. The jakes slowly meandered back in slowly, taking their time with small feuds and displaying occasionally. The tom was sneaking back in until the jakes noticed and chased him off once again, hot on his scaly heels.

With four hens in front of us now, challenging my call to a duel, my dad knew he would have to shoot soon. The biggest jake sprinted back to the decoy, pulling up five feet short to displaying his gorgeous feathers that shone golden black in the sunlit opening. For the second time that morning the DSD was mounted. Out of the corner of my eye I saw my dad draw and carefully take aim. The twang of the bowstring was muted by my face mask but the unmistakable thwack of the arrow making solid contact was impossible to miss.

Nervous puts came from the mouths of the hens and the gobblers came out of their strut. The beating of wings on the ground surprised me. My dad had made a perfect neck shot and it had dropped right there. The jakes wanted to linger in the worst way but as the hens ran off, they followed. Soon, it was just my dad and I sitting quietly in the small clear cut. He stood, smiling, with his first bow turkey of the season on the ground 15 yards away. He raised his bow up and smiled. Success! It was a nice change to be able to call in a bird for him for a change. There is nothing better than sharing a successful outing with my favorite hunting partner. I’ll never forget how hectic it was in the moment! We both knew deep down that that tom didn’t get away that easily, though.

To be continued…

 

 

 

 

Around the Rock: Spearfishing and More

Adam and I made our way down the shoreline, enjoying the beautiful day and warm summer water. It was the middle of July and the ocean was about as nice as it ever gets. The visibility was also around 10 feet, a perfect day to shoot some long range tog with my AB Biller 48 special. Since Adam was diving for his first time and was very positively buoyant because he didn’t have a weight belt, I decided to stay in the shallow end (4-12ft deep). 
We jumped in the water and Adam got cold almost immediately, so he hopped back on the boat and just drove around behind me as I dove. I hadn’t been in the water for 3 minutes when I saw my first tautog. The big ones are extremely spooky in clear, shallow water and this one shot off into the depths. Disappointed but not discouraged, I swam on. 
Another minute or two passed and I was continuously seeing 13-15 inch tog, just under the legal limit of 16 inches. I dove down to the bottom to peek under a beautiful barnacle encrusted rock that was coated with seaweed swaying in the tide like leaves in the wind. Coming around the corner I spied a beautiful white chinned tautog munching muscles off of the rock. I flipped off the safety, aimed and squeezed the trigger. Thunk! The sound shot through the water as the tog slowly drifted to the bottom, spinning along the shaft of my spear. Hurriedly I swam over and put one hand on each side of the tog to insure that it wouldn’t slide off during my short assent. Within a minute, Adam had brought the boat along side me, took the tog off the shaft and I was once again on the hunt. 
I shot two more tautog in rapid succession. My limit reached, I hopped in the boat and we made our way back down the shoreline to the harbor. Ten minutes into the trip I begin to see white dots on the horizon with a gorgeous backdrop of sandy dunes and eel grass. Soon, I could make out the splashes of birds and fish entering the water simultaneously. As Adam picked up a rod and began to cast, I couldn’t help myself and grabbed my Gatku 6ft pole spear and jumped in. As soon as I hit the water I was engulfed in terns, gulls, cormorants and to my dismay, striped bass. Since it is illegal to shoot stripers in MA, I casually swam around admiring the natural beauty. The terns diving around me left bubble trails as they fought their ways back to the surface with beaks full of sand eels. The black backs and bellies of cormorants shooting around alongside me like torpedoes left me in awe. I dove to the bottom (only 6 feet of water!) and lay there as schools of bass parted around me whilst stuffing themselves with sand eels, busting on the surface only a few feet from me. 
Before long it was over and the birds, bass and I went our separate ways, leaving Adam and I the only ones hungry. We hightailed it in to a boat-cooked meal of steak and broccoli before heading to the lights to catch some squid for mahi fishing. 
(Mahi fishing story coming soon!)

In a Rut

  After weeks of no bucks showing themselves, yesterday they lit up. Around 4, I saw one in a field and immediately knew where it was headed. The deer would make a trip around the property across the street and come out the other side, where I have permission. I got settled in my stand and within an hour and a half that deer came walking along, head to the ground, following a doe track. Drawing silently, I gave a quick blatt and he stopped broadside at a mere ten feet. I let the arrow fly and it hit it’s mark with a thud. The buck ran like the wind before falling 30 yards away, but not before blowing right through a metal gate into a pasture.  I guess I owe the farmer a few hours labor to repair the gate, but man was it worth it. What a hunt! I feel very fortunate to have been able to have harvested this animal and look forward to sharing this meat with family and friends.