Grow the Hunt

Summer Break

-By Rich Miller

The last couple of months have been hectic but now that the slow summer months have come around we are on the downhill side until deer season starts. Here in the south we still have about two and a half months before it opens up. With a great turkey season, an unforgettable bear hunt, and a super offshore fishing trip, this spring has come and gone faster than any I can remember. For the next couple of months I don’t have anything big planned other than our family vacation. We have a house rented on Edisto a little island off the coast of South Carolina. This is a family vacation, but you know I am going to have to get a little fishing in while I am there. We normally take this vacation toward the end of July and that is good for me because that is when the tarpon are migrating back through. This year we are going a little earlier so I guess I am going to have to settle for a little surf fishing and chasing some of those hard fighting red fish around the oyster banks.

The problem with the surf fishing is I have never had much luck with it. You have to use this huge spinning rod with a heavy weight to keep the bait on the bottom. When I do catch a fish it is normally small and I usually don’t know I have a fish until I go to reel it in. The good thing about it is I take a comfortable chair and it is a very peaceful thing to do during the afternoon while watching the sunset.

When it comes to red fishing I am more fortunate. One of my buddies that I have hunted and fished with my whole life has a house at Edisto and he stays on the water just about every weekend. As you well know the key to consistently catching fish is putting your time in on the water. I am very fortunate that I have an inside track otherwise I would waste a couple of days trying to just figure out what the fish are doing.

Whether I catch any fish or not I will enjoy spending time with my wife and son and doing whatever he wants to do. Normally on all of my trips there is never any time to just do nothing and not have an agenda. The good thing about this yearly trip is I don’t have to do anything, although I will update you next week while sitting on the beach.

Turkey Hunting in Kansas

-By Brandon Wikman

Kansas has once again proved to be one of the best turkey hunting locations in America. Last week I was able to call a giant strutter into range during the beginning of our trip and ended up wrapping my Kansas license around his leg. This enabled me to purchase another tag and put more meat in the freezer.

David Schotte, the owner of Blue River Whitetails and I planned an all out turkey blitz. We had spotted an absolute monster of a tom. The bird looked like a 30-pound bowling ball and sported a beard that could’ve easily made two paintbrushes! It was the biggest bird I’ve ever seen in my life and one of the largest Schotte had ever laid eyes on.

The only problem hunting the goliath-sized bird was that he roosted with a flock of other birds. He’d always escort a handful of hens during fly-up and fly-down. He also bossed around four other mature gobblers. It was as if he was crowned king of the flock. We had to take in account that the gobbler pulled some serious baggage around. More turkeys means more eyes, greater odds of being picked-off, and a slim chance of calling the bird in. Our plan was quite simple. We’d pop a blind along the woods facing the field within shooting distance of where they all hit the ground from fly-down. It would require a lot of luck defeating the flock of fifteen. They had to fly down near the blind so I’d be able to toss up my shotgun through the window and fire. We also had to be super stealthy so the birds wouldn’t hear us in the morning opening up the blind or walking into the setup.

The morning of my hunt to kill the largest turkey in Kansas couldn’t have come any sooner. I swear I woke up with fire in my eyes and an overwhelming sense of anticipation. We arrived at Schotte’s extra early. It was critical that we arrived extra early so the sky was completely black and the birds were sound asleep. Schotte, my field producer, and I tiptoed through the corn stubble field as quiet as we could. Subtle step-by-step crunches marked our arrival en route to the landing pad of all the birds. All three of us silently opened the blind and walked it toward the woods-edge. The field producer and I huddled into the blind while Schotte sunk into the thick vegetation behind us.

The sky slowly transitioned from coal black to light blue. The stars soon vanished, horizon ignited with red, and the birds woke. The morning silence shattered with gobbles storming from limbs. Every bird was roosted within eighty-yards of the blind. I whispered to the video camera as the morning show unraveled. During my brief recap a hen pitched into the field no more than twenty-yards from the blind. I grabbed my shotgun and lifted it to the open window. Another hen landed and it was only time until the giant tumbled his way down to the ground. Both hens started acting nervous. They tossed up their head and began an alarm putt. My jaw nearly hit the ground and all of my hope shredded as a coyote walked toward the birds. It was game over within a moment. Every bird flew the opposite way into another field. As the sounds of the last gobbler flew from atop the tree, Schotte hustled me to the backfield. The stalk was on.

We jumped a creek and followed a deer trail up a bank, which led to where he thought the birds might cross. I positioned myself behind a thick briar bush in the shade. My eyes focused down the end of my barrel. The sound of a gobble reassured that me not only we were setup in the perfect place, but the timing couldn’t have been any better. A glowing fantail arose from the steep bank. The sun glimmered on the beautiful bird as he walked our way down the trail. I took a glimpse at his beard and realized it wasn’t the mega-beard, but that was fine with me. A few yelps from Schotte’s slate call deflated the bird out of strut. He picked his head up and I blasted a shot. The bird hit the ground and so did I! The amazing turn of events shook me up. I went from a serious low to an all time high within minutes.

We were able to use the terrain to our advantage thanks to Schotte’s keen understanding of the landscape. The hunt was truly unforgettable. The monster tom gets to live another year and only grow bigger! I look forward to coming back next year and setting my sights on the colossal bird that got away.

Hunting With Blue River Whitetails

-By Brandon Wikman

There aren’t many hunting locations around the country that consistently produce giant whitetail and tubby gobblers year after year. Spots like that are few and far between. I’ve had the great opportunity to hunt at a place that has not only proved successful for me the last four years, but currently maintains a 100% turkey slaying record. The birds are plentiful, landscape’s spectacular, and the privlidge to hunt side-by-side with a turkey guru is incredible. Let me introduce you my good friend David Schotte, owner of Blue River Whitetails in Hanover, Kansas.

Last week my cousin and I road-tripped nearly 10-hours en route to north central Kansas. Our mission was to lay down some serious turkey footage and bust a couple of mature gobblers. Traveling that distance for turkey is my testament of how exceptional the hunting really is. Sweeping emerald green hills, vast meadows, and winding creeks that dissect pastures and hardwood forests sculpt North-Central Kansas. It’s a monster buck paradise and turkey haven.

Hunters who are pursuing the grand slam for turkey can tag-out on three-fourths of the feat within a single trip. Kansas is home to both Rio and Eastern bird species. A simple jog north lands you in spectacular Merriam country. During this trip I focused my efforts into hopefully tagging both species. A telltale sign to identify a Rio is looking at his fantail. Male Rio’s sport a golden-tan colored band across their fantail, while an Eastern flashes a strip of brown. Both birds share similar characteristics and make worthy opponents in the field as I soon found out during my first morning’s hunt.

My cousin, who ran the camera for me hid behind a tree, while David and I nestled into some nearby shrubbery. We were all concealed very well. By mid-May the foliage is thick, grass is high, and bushes are full of leaves. This time of the year is ideal for sinking into the natural environment unnoticed. The darkness of morning soon illuminated like emerging headlights on a backcountry road. The glint of sunlight sparked the army of gobblers roosted nearby. The crew of rednecks cracked silence in the crisp morning air and made their presence known across the vast countryside.

Clattering wings, popping limbs, and a symphony of staccato cackles and yelps proved that gobblers weren’t the only gender roosted. Three hens graciously pitched down into the field. The hens were soon to be escorted by a handful of toms. A handful of gobblers tumbled into the tilled-field and instantly inflated into full strut. The males followed the hens in a line like a 4th of July parade. Each tom made an attempt to show-off and declared dominance. It was as if the hens could care less. The only positive scenario Dave and I had to work with was that the males easily outnumbered the females and if we’d be able to call in the hens, the strutters would follow.

Dave and I began chirping sweet tones across the field hoping to attract attention from the hens. The tom’s gobbled, but wouldn’t budge. The hens tossed their head into the air and slowly made their way our way. Their curiosity and interest helped us exponentially. I readied my shotgun and slunk lower toward the ground. Dave chattered a few more times with the box call and we completely silenced ourselves.

The large flock of feathers waddled into range. I punched the safety-off and waited for the okay to shoot. My cousin adjusted his video camera, while I zeroed-in on the flashy beat red head to deliver a lethal kill. I got the whispering go-ahead and squeezed a 3-½ inch shot shell full of bb’s into the vitals.

My fourth year of late-season turkey hunting with my dear friend David Schotte proved successful once again. The long trip to Kansas is always highly anticipated by my cousin and I. We are lucky to save the best hunt for the last turkey-hunting trip of the year. I will be here a few more days and hopefully have another positive report next week!

Finding a Field Producer

-By Brandon Wikman

The quest to find a good cameraman is like trying to find a matching set of shed antlers in the middle of a marsh. It requires an immense amount of one-on-one training, hands-on personal experience, and a thorough understanding of what needs to be filmed during the duration of a televised hunt.

When filming for a national television show, there’s more involved than the point-and-shoot method. Often times, there are strict scripts to shoot from, certain audio-bytes to capture, special formats to film in, and about a hundred other key aspects that are a must for quality footage. This past week, I stumbled upon that matching set of shed antlers and found somebody who has the potential to roam with the elite field producers of the outdoor industry.

The cameraman who always works with me had an out-of-state video shoot. I was forced to frantically search for someone to fill my cameraman’s shoes. I knew of several people who were willing to toss a camera on their shoulder and hit record, but that’s not what I wanted. I opted to ask a special friend of mine who watches outdoor TV programming as much as I do. He’s a stickler and professional critic when it comes to pointing out scenes within a show that don’t match, look fishy, and are completely staged. Dick Gunther, owner of Dick’s Whitetail Taxidermy in Camp Douglas, Wisconsin was the man for the job. I’ve been acquainted with Gunther for a few years now and have been fortunate enough to know him and his family quite well. He’s one of the keenest individuals I have ever known. His fine taxidermy work defines his personality and character. Like many great artists, Gunther carries with him a creative mind, meticulous skills for crafting, and he is always looking to improve. These are the key attributes found in a quality field producer.

Before our hunt, I jammed him with an extremely brief review of the basic filming guidelines. Gunther learned the fundamentals of shooting video, the mechanics of a camera, and the general concept of outdoor videoing. As the opening day of turkey season arrived, it was up to Gunther to prove himself behind the camera.

As the break of dawn’s sunlight torched the green pastures, we sat in wonder hoping our luck would prove worthy. Our setup was ideal for a teamwork effort to cast a lovesick gobbler into a movie star role. Gunther sat behind me hunkered into a grassy spot against a large oak to break up his outline. I sat close ahead, feet propped on my footrest, shotgun in hand, and anticipations high. It is always important to sit near your cameraman for two reasons. A cameraman will lose angles and the hunter’s point-of-view as the distance increases. It is essential that the camera is always recording over the shoulder of a hunter to give viewers that lifelike sense. As you move further away from each other, communication decreases. The most important aspect of filming hunts is communicating the scenario, situation at hand, and the actual kill shot. Everyone must be on the same page or else it becomes a producer’s worst nightmare.

The morning silence was broke when I busted a few crackling yelps toward the roosted birds. It was only seconds before we heard a response from an interested gobbler. Gunther flipped on the camera and started filming the scenario as the game of seduction unraveled. As he filmed, I pulled down my mask and whispered a basic checklist of mechanics for him to check; audio, adjusting the iris, turning on manual focus, fine-tuning the white balance and checking the gain were just some of the requirements.

The gobbler was in sight before I could finish with my verbal checklist. He pompously showboated across the entire pasture en route to my decoy. Beautiful colors splashed off his feathery body and the sun’s luminescence lit his tail fan with a glow. The strutter stood at a mere 20 yards. As any good cameraman would say at this point in time, Gunther told me he was focused on the bird and to make the kill. An explosion of bb’s roared from the end of my shotgun and splattered into the bird’s vitals, it was a knockout! Gunther was just as excited as I was. We savored the moment with high-fives and “man-hugs.”

We shot the cut-a-ways, recovered the bird, and wrapped up a successful video shoot. I left the field proud and eager to see the dynamic footage from a rookie’s first hunting experience behind a camera. Our teamwork effort proved triumphant as I later viewed the footage. I owe a big thanks to Gunther for his ability to capture a spectacular turkey hunt, but more importantly a greater memory for us to share for years to come.

Turkeys on Trail Cams

-By Art Helin

“Trail cameras for scouting turkeys? Are you crazy?” asks one of the gentlemen in the crowd. I respond with a “maybe”, but this is one of the most overlooked and useful tools you have for turkey hunting. These high-tech gadgets are great. The most effective way to use cameras for turkeys is to put them up and leave them alone for a week or two before the season starts. Why constantly go in and out of your prime hunting area pressuring birds and educating them?

I place the cameras in three areas. The first is in the birds’ known strut zones – typically oak flats or small field edges where you find turkey scratch. The second is on food sources - clover, cut corn, alfalfa fields, etc. Third is on water sources (shallow backed- up creek areas, ponds and secluded mini ponds); mine happen to be on small man-made water holes or mini ponds. I place the cameras in these locations so I can time when to hunt these particular birds and areas. Many people hunt certain areas too early or too late in the day; by finding and timing these birds you will be in the right place at the right time. It is easier to call a bird to an area he wants to be in rather than somewhere he doesn’t.

I set my Moultrie I40 cameras on 2-shot mode so I can see what birds, and possibly how many, are there. This helps to figure out after you shoot a bird and have tags left, if there are likely to be birds still in the area. Check the cameras to get a pretty good idea of what they are doing at what time of the day. I like to move cameras about every week or so during the season because more pressure from you or the neighbors may change their patterns.

Most people have limited time to hunt and scout so why not put your cameras in the field and take some pressure off the birds, figure out their daily patterns, hunt them at the right time, and become a more successful turkey hunter? The bonus is most bucks will also be sprouting at this time so you can also get a good look at what’s to come this fall! Good luck and shoot straight.

Karlee's First Bird

-By Brandon Wikman

Introducing people into the hunting and outdoors lifestyle has always been my passion. It’s a unique and thrilling opportunity to educate, be a role model, and change someone’s life in a positive matter. This past week proved to be a life-changing experience for one of my friends during her very first turkey hunt.

Step 1: Scout
A few days before Karlee’s turkey season opened, she and I trekked through the wooded grounds we would be hunting in search of turkey signs. I am a firm believer in doing your homework early to reap the rewards early (a big gobbler).

As we edged toward the field, she spotted a few feathers buried beneath the grassy weeds. It was obvious to see that this was surely a turkey roosting area after looking up into the tall white pines. I explained to her that the branches of white pines are like beds to turkey. They spend half of their life sinking their claws into the bark and sleeping through the night. We continued on our mini-journey through the woods in pursuit of more hardcore evidence of my favorite feathered-friends.

Step 2: The Pre-hunt
Karlee didn’t hesitate to let me know her true feelings of waking up at an ungodly 3:30 am. I guess I couldn’t blame her. Regardless, she managed to gladly surprise me when I saw her sleepily walk into the living room. Half-zombie and half-woman, she slowly began waking once the coffee and breakfast was served. I could tell that she was pretty excited about the morning hunt.

As every guy would know and every woman could agree, women seem to typically take a lot longer getting ready than men. Not this time. We were actually out the door and on the road with time to spare. It’s not too often I make good time when I’m just by myself. I was anticipating that the good omen would continue.

Step 3: The hunt
Karlee and I slinked into the forest’s darkness silently like a burglar slipping into a backdoor. We tiptoed through the woods, gun, camera, and gear in hand. I whispered to Karlee that any obtrusive noise would wake the birds and send them darting through the early morning air.

Our morning setup was only a hundred yards from where Karlee found the turkey feathers. A jumble of white pines and a small patch of cedars is the only thing that held back Karlee’s first turkey. As morning light danced upon the horizon, the woods came alive. Morning songbirds sung a sweet melody as the geese chimed in every now and then. The squirrels began rummaging through the forest floor and deer sluggishly walked back to their beds after a long night of gorging. I knew it would only be minutes until I’d watch Karlee’s eyes pop from the shriek of a gobble.

The turkey began claiming dominance with thunderous gobbles soon after the crack of dawn. I nudged Karlee to pick up a call and softly begin chiming love toward their direction. She was able to ignite a few gobbles from her box call. We waited motionless for another five minutes until I spotted a gobbler fluttering through the air heading to Karlee’s yelp. The gobbler pompously walked into range while strutting the entire time. This scenario was absolutely perfect, one that doesn’t come too often when hunting these random critters.

Karlee steadied her shotgun as the bird high-stepped his way in looking for the imaginary lovesick hen. When the tom crossed the 20-yard mark I told Karlee to fill his face with bb’s. She did just that! An eruption of bb’s burnt through the air splattering into the gobbler’s face. We both couldn’t help laughing. She looked completely speechless. She was glowing with pride and shaking with turkey-fever. I soaked every moment of it up. I knew in my heart that this was an experience that she’d never forget for the rest of her life.

We recovered the bird and took some great pictures of her trophy. Little did she know, those pictures photographed that day would be a conversational piece in her scrapbook forever. Not only did Karlee kill her first animal, but she also lived in the shoes of an outdoors person, the eyes of a hunter, and mind of a conservationist. It was by far one of the most memorable hunts I’ve ever been a part of. Hunting to me is simple, it’s about making lasting memories with people you enjoy spending time with.

Tagged Out and Burnt Out

-By Brandon Wikman

The anticipation and excitement of chasing a Wisconsin long-beard began to transform into pure dosages of frustration. As each day of my season ensued, the more aggravated I became. Last week I found out very quickly that hunting a central Wisconsin gobbler with a jumble of filming equipment was rather tiresome.

I was only able to hunt three of the five days for turkey because of my school schedule. Cramming in a quick three-day hunt was the best I could do.

Friday morning my nerves were pulsing with overwhelming enthusiasm. The first setup was over an alfalfa field. Many birds were using the area throughout the day. With my decoy placed a few yards in front of me, all I could do was wait for the show. I hunkered into the shrubbery and vanished with the help of my camouflage. As the refreshing sign of morning dawned upon me, the subtle glow of light pierced the horizon.

An eruption of gobbles crackled from the field’s edge high above the forest floor. Several male turkeys began claiming ground and shrieking boisterous messages across the land. It took only minutes until they pitched from their roosts and into the field. An alfalfa field is a perfect place for them to showoff, sift for bugs, and spot other turkeys.

A gobbler from across the field cranked his neck to listen to my calling. He looked as if he were interested. His colorful red and blue speckled head sank into his feathers. The bird started strutting my way. One-Hundred-fifty yards separated me any my quarry. I nestled the stock of my shotgun into my shoulder and pre-visualized the attack. Before I could even visualize pulling the trigger, the gobbler came to an abrupt halt. The bird threw his head up in the air, looked at the decoys, and darted across the open field. I sat in utter amazement, as I watched his beard swing back-and-forth. It was obvious he was decoy shy.

I hunted the rest of the day and it turned into a lot of walking, calling, and doubt. The birds had quit gobbling by 8am and the extreme hot weather didn’t help. My turkey forecast was not looking very good. All I could hope for is a new day.

Saturday, my alarm clock didn’t wake me up at 4am. Pouring rain and hurricane winds sent me back into sleep mode. I waited the entire day to step foot into the woods, but the weather never calmed.

Sunday morning was my last chance to strike a wad-full of ammo into a Wisconsin long-beard. I was more than willing to sit over the alfalfa field once again hoping to cross-paths with the decoy shy bird. The only difference was that this time I was not going to have a decoy. There wasn’t any reason or doubt that a bird would stroll into range this time. The morning routine of gobbling followed as I readied myself for a lovesick tom.

A barrage of brown specks began filtering through the corner of the field. My binoculars proved honest when I caught the glimpse of a dangling beard. The only problem was that he was escorting a handful of needy hens. I cranked up my calling hoping to entice the female’s curiosity. Instead, they took the gobbler back into the woods. My mind raced, temper escalated, and body numbed as I sat in a stupor. My gun was pointed directly in the air with my body half up ready to move, until I saw a flash of brown.

A silent gobbler had snuck behind our setup and was only a mere twenty yards away! In one fluid motion, I picked up my gun, swung the barrel and fired a kill shot. I was absolutely stunned.

The more I turkey hunt, the more I realize the unpredictability of them. This season was not like past seasons I’ve experienced. Birds didn’t want to cooperate and the weather didn’t help. Sometimes the sheer fact of being out in the woods with a shotgun in hand has enough potential to fill your tag in someway, shape or form. As the old saying goes, “You can’t kill one on the couch”.

Hunting Late Season Long Beards

-By Rich Miller

Turkey season is rapidly coming to an end for us here in South Carolina and everyone is wondering what happened to all of the turkeys. Over the past couple of weeks I have had several people calling asking what is wrong with the turkeys this year. I don’t know if anything is wrong with them or not, these old eastern birds have always acted crazy and been hard to figure out. One morning they seem to gobble every breath and the next morning you wouldn’t think there was a turkey in that part of the country.

Another thing is that these birds have been harassed and chased during every daylight hour since the end of March. These turkeys have not had any relief around here; if there is a piece of property that has birds on it, they are being hunted. On the properties that I hunt I try not to put too much pressure on the turkeys. The unfortunate thing is the turkeys don’t just stay on my property and you cannot control how much the people hunt the adjoining property.

This morning about eight o’clock I was next to a river looking off the side of a big bluff. Across the river there was a big gobbler strutting with about five hens on the bank. I gave him about four short yelps to see if I could get him to gobble and they all headed toward the woods like I shot at them. Do you think these birds were call shy? Everyone has been saying that it is over, all the hens are on the nest and the gobblers aren’t interested anymore. Seeing this bird with all those hens told me that all of the hens are not sitting on a nest right now. It also told me that to get close to these birds, a hunter better keep his calls in his pocket.

You can’t hunt the same way at the end of the season as you do at the beginning of it. I do very little calling in the late season; mostly I do some soft purrs and clucks. If I do any yelping, one or two is all I give them and I try to keep them as soft as possible. If I am hunting in hard woods I will scratch in the leaves to add a little realism and it will give the gobbler a little more confidence to come into my setup.

We can change our turkey calling techniques or where we are hunting or the hours we hunt. Some hunters change up their decoys and will not use gobbler or jake decoys. Others will only use hens and some use none at all. These are all good changes and will probably go a long way in helping hunters bag a bird late in the season, but the main ingredient for success this time of year is patience. Without patience the only way we could get an adult gobbler to the truck this time of year would be a lot of luck!

Awaiting the Dawn

-By Brandon Wikman

Morning sunshine colored the prickly tips of the tall white pines as the morning awakes the forest. I sit, clothed in complete camouflage. My entire body matches the ground floor, scraggly bushes and textured bark of the hardwood oak. I become hidden in the wonders of nature, anticipating a surprise attack upon a mature gobbler.

Motionless, eyes scan, ears listen, and my mind is at ease. I now await the unforgettable bark from the vocals of a savvy bird. The gobble is a sound that serenades my mind, steals my patience, and stirs my soul. The tom’s gobble electrifies the monotonous early morning sounds of the woods. As soon as I hear the wake from his morning roost, I creep into stalk mode awaiting his next move.

My latest adventure takes place in the rolling green meadows and hills of Wisconsin. A bluff region comprised of ancient glacier rubble collected from the northern stretches of Canada. It is a land preserved with sheer beauty and grace. The success of setting your sight upon a wise old tom depends on understanding the tricky terrain. Birds are far too familiar with the jogs of timber, stretches of meadow, and sweeping valleys. I couldn’t help but wait to share a morning with a forest full of fluffy feathers.

Speckles of shattered sunlight trickled upon the breathtaking scene that lay before me. Ancient farmhouses stood lonely, sunk into the endless hills. It was only a matter of time until the turkeys would wake. I dug into my turkey-vest full of thingamajigs and slipped-out a mouth call. The mouth call is the most realistic sounding turkey call on the market. The construction of the sweet-talking manipulating device is built with latex, aluminum, and tape. I slipped the call into my mouth and began to spread chattering yelps across the fertile land.

A gobble broke the silence. I rapidly tested his willpower with bittersweet talk and seducing his lovesick mind. My goal was to suck him away from his flock of hens he flaunted throughout the day and into gun range. With enough convincing and proper turkey etiquette, my hope would come true.

I eased back into the tree allowing my feet to prop comfortably against my footrest. I was both steady and at ease. The sound of busting limbs, noisy wing-beats, and swooshing feathers directed me that my opponent has landed. I called softly with a soothing mix of clucks to acknowledge his acrobatic swoop. He replied. The mature gobbler was definitely convinced he was in lust.

My 12-guage pointed toward the forest’s horizon where my quarry pompously stood strutting his magnificence. As he waddled towards me with his head cocked, feathers spread, and tail sailing high, I readied myself. My heart beat like the wings of a hummingbird. It was an enthusiasm high. My muzzle bounced from uneasy nerves like a dangling leaf in the wind.

My safety pin clicked, eyes squinted, and finger reached for the trigger. My cameraman documented each passing moment with his video camera. He and his equipment were concealed in a hunting blind.

As soon as the turkey stretched his neck looking for his blind date, my instincts jumped the gun, literally. I blasted an intense face-wash full of bb’s into the vitals of the gobbler.

Hunting turkey showcases a wealth of new meanings to be a bird hunter. It’s the significant feelings of coaxing a bird into range and persuading Mother Nature to reverse psychology. Turkey hunting teaches lessons that aren’t found in a book or magazine, but rather in the depths of one’s imagination set forth from all the dreaming beforehand. I urge everyone to test their hunting skills in pursuit of the wild turkey.

Creating a Turkey Fan Mount

We recently ran across this article on the National Wild Turkey Federation’s web site. With the state of the economy, it seems like everyone is looking for a way to save a few bucks. If you are lucky enough to harvest a nice gobbler this season, follow these directions and try your hand at creating a fan mount from the turkey’s tail feathers. It is a great way to save a few bucks and show off the results of a successful hunt for years to come.