The annual wild turkey hunt was a successful one for the Roughfisher-at-Large.

 We got down to our hunting area in beautiful Southeastern Minnesota with just enough light left to set up our camp and try to put a gobbler to bed.  "Putting them to bed" means finding a bird on the field just before dark and watching where he goes up into the woods.  He will roost for the night in a large tree very nearby.  Before dawn the next morning, you can sneak close to his roost and attempt to seduce him with your calls as soon as he wakes up.  It is a deadly tactic.  I drove down behind the homestead and my binoculars found seven turkeys just leaving a field - three toms and four hens.  One of the toms was strutting all the way into the woods.  My plan for opening morning was set.

Before dawn, I crawled under some barbed wire and approached the area very carefully.  It was cloudy and pitch black, and a stiff wind blew.  Taking into consideration all of the elements involved, I chose a spot to sit and positioned my decoy.  Settling in among the current bushes on the field edge, I got my call ready and waited to hear a gobble from up the ridge behind me.  It didn't take long.  A bird gobbled from his roost, not far away.  Just what I had expected!  After a few gobbles, I let out a soft tree yelp on the box call.  The bird responded eagerly.  Time to play hard to get now.........he knows I'm here.  I let him gobble away, then when I felt the time was right as the thrushes began singing, I let out a louder call to let the gobbler think the hen was now out of her roost and ready for him.  He cut me off with a raucus double-gobble.  Soon after, a sound like a jet broke the serenity as the big bird soared over me and went down on the field below.  I saw a nice beard dangling from him as he rocketed over my head.  But there was a problem - he turned the wrong way and landed on the other side of a rise to my left.  As soon as he hit the ground he was vocal, shaking the valley with his gobbling.  I could not see him at all, though.  In fact, unless he came up very near me, under the barbed wire, I wouldn't have a chance at him.  I was set up for an easier approach from the other side.  Suddenly there were two birds gobbling.  They were very close, but over the rise from me and I was stuck.  My box call whined and purred and clucked and yelped and even cackled, and while the birds seemed to love what they heard, they would not come closer.  In time, they moved down the field.  They still attacked my seductive calls.  Next, they went up the ridge and crossed behind me.  Eventually they made their way up the ridge, losing interest in me all the way until they fell silent.  I figured I had missed my chance at these birds today.

A lone hen entered the field just to my right, and made her way down picking in the freshly plowed earth.  When she was far away, I lifted my headnet toget a drink of water.  This startled an unseen hen very close to me, and her alarm call was met with two gobbles from very near, back to my left again.  The two toms had passed behind me again silently, and were going to enter the field once again!  About this time, four turkeys came from across the valley onto the field as well.  Another hen flew down over me and lit on the field.  Things were definitely looking up now!  However, my best calls still could not draw the birds under the fence.  Suddenly, the farmer's two dogs emerged on a lower field and ran around barking.  One by one, the hens scooted through a gap in the fence and ran up the ridge.  They did not like the dogs, apparently.  Just then, I noticed the very tip-top of a strutting turkey's tail over the rise.  He was CLOSE.  I saw the tip of his tail turn around as he strutted his stuff for the bird he wanted on the other side of the fence but was not willing to chase.  The dogs were getting closer.  Another hen fled the field.  Were the gobblers going to follow the hens up the ridge?  I could crack a shot as they ran by me.  But the tailfeathers stayedthere, swaying around.  I decided to make a snap decision, one which could easily backfire but things were getting dicey and I was out of patience.  I shouldered my gun, then slowly rose upto take a peek oer the rise.  Three hens jerked their heads around and stared at me, shocked, then bolted.  The strutting tom had his tail to me, giving me no shot.  Right next to him was another bird, and he had a red head.  So I put my sights on it and pulled the trigger.

Four, five, maybe more turkeys scrambled and ran and flew all around me.  The gobbler which had been strutting ran 10 yards and stopped, staring at me.  He was bigger than the one I shot, the Boss Gobbler of the valley.  I could have shot him, but I had already made the choice to end my hunt.  He looked at me, and I eyeballed him thinking this is the bird I put to bed, roosted, called off his roost and had fly over me.  He was huge, and had an immaculate appearance.  Nobody ever shot another bird in this valley, so there's a chance I will duel him again next April.  The bird I shot tumbled and flopped and scrambled down the slope, still alive.  I scrambled after him with my shotgun.  When I caught up to him, he was up and looking to fight me.  He couldn't fly or run, but was far from dead!  I decided I didn't want to shoot him again if I didn't have to.  I shoot expensive shells, and didn't want to mess him up too bad either.  I unloaded my gun, grabbed it by the barrel, and squared off with the gobbler like we were in a bar fight.  When his head swayed just right, I swung my shotgun like a baseball bat and caught him in the head, stunning him.  I then crushed his head with the butt of my gun.  He still kicked, but I figured with the amount of blood he was not long for this world so I returned to gather my gear.  Taking a glance back out there, I saw the bird back up and limping along the field!  Unbelievable.  I grabbed my Buck knife, and after a swift kick to his head I stabbed him in the throat to finish the big gobbler off.  I prefer very clean kills and hate to admit to this ordeal, but it is what it is.

 This bizarre hunt payed out differently than any other I've had, and I felt lucky to bag my bird.  The big gobbler weighed in at around 24 pounds, with a 10.5 inch beard. 

Beards up!

 Breast feathers

 He had nice big spurs which I will add to my lucky necklace

 After I bagged mybird, I found a few gray morels

field of wild mustard

We got out on a rainy day and did some trout fishing on local creeks.  This is Beaver Creek just below Sheck's Mill.

Beaver Creek

West Beaver Creek.  Fished it in a thunderstorm and took a limit of nice brown trout in ten minutes.

Trout were smacking small streamers like nobody's business - a deadly small creek tactic in the rain.

Nice brookie for Corey

Corey found a nice patch of morels.  We ended up with about 3 dozen nice big shrooms all told.