Bushwhacking Turkeys

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This fall, I ended up sticking around Minnesota a lot longer than I had since before leaving for the Academy in 2010. It wasn’t originally planned that way, but a final piece of Air Force bureaucracy caught me unawares and sent me back to the frozen North two weeks earlier than anticipated. Combine that with a slower workload due to the longest-ever government shutdown, and I had more time on my hands than I really knew what to do with.

I resolved to make the best of it, and decided to take some time taking advantage of Minnesota’s fall turkey season. My dad, brother, and a family friend went turkey hunting this past spring, and I was a little jealous of my dad bagging his first turkey.

There have been a ton of turkeys roaming around our deer camp woods for several years now. Once, during an unseasonably warm deer season, I had four turkeys walk right up to my stand and mill about in the meadow. They pecked and scratched and made a ton of noise while I frantically searched the Minnesota Department of Natural Resources website to figure out if turkeys were still in season and if I could buy a permit. The season was closed, so I simply watched the offending birds until they walked back into the forest.

Over the years, the number of turkeys running around the woods near the cabin have only increased, to the point where they are somewhat of a nuisance. Dad, Max, and our friend, Jay, hunted turkeys the way I think they are meant to be hunted last spring. They set up decoys, sat in a ground blind, and called a mature Tom turkey into range. The three of them had special turkey loads and fancy shotguns, and it sounds like they had a blast. I was jealous of their successful hunt.

My hunt was quite different. In the spring, the turkey mating season is in full swing. Hunters are restricted to only shooting “bearded” male turkeys, and the males are separated from the rest of the flock and busy fighting each other over hens.

In the fall, the turkeys are back together in their flock. Hunters are also able to harvest female turkeys, since the point of having a fall turkey season is to reduce the population numbers down to acceptable levels. Shooting hens has an immediate effect on turkey population numbers, and I was more than happy to help.

I set out to the hunting cabin for a weekend of chasing turkeys, grouse, and other small game. This was the first time I had ever gone hunting with the express intent of harvesting a wild turkey. I had bought a turkey license before, but had pursued turkeys incidentally while hunting grouse or pheasants.

The first morning turkey hunting, I set out into the woods to sit on a fallen tree and see what I could find. It was quiet, minus the highly annoying squirrels sprinting around the forest floor. I sat for a couple hours with my Grandpa’s old 31L shotgun without any luck, and decided to start slinking around the woods in search of turkeys.

I had a vague idea where the turkeys sometimes roosted, and the flock would frequently stroll across my trail camera. So even though they didn’t saunter past my ambush site, I had a plan. Within a few minutes of walking quietly through the woods, I heard the loud sounds of a turkey flock foraging their way around the forest.

Moving quickly to close the distance while keeping a small rise in between me and the sound of turkeys, I moved my way into position and got ready to ambush the turkeys. The plan was pretty simple, I would poke my head over the small hill, select a turkey from the flock, and wait for a good, clean shot.

That plan fell by the wayside immediately. As soon as I poked my head over the hill, the flock took off running. I gave chase briefly, but they made their way through the forest much faster than I can hope to and I lost them.

I spent the next two days walking around the woods trying to find turkeys. Hiking all the trails in the woods, I surely got my steps in but did not even hear a turkey. I had a grouse surprise me, and I did take a few shots at squirrels, but no turkeys.

In between turkey hunts, I passed the time by writing a bit, reading a lot, and plinking with my new .22 rifle. I bought myself a Henry lever-action .22, which will probably form the basis of a future article. It is a super fun gun to shoot, and I hung a steel target about 50 yards off the cabin porch so I didn’t even have to go that far to get some practice in.

As far as I could tell, after three days of stomping around the woods and trying to ambush a turkey, the entire flock had packed up and left. Perhaps we had the world’s first instance of migrating turkeys. Whatever the reason, I decided to give it one more day and then call it quits.

During my afternoon hunt on my final day, I found myself walking down by the lake up the trail towards a small orchard of apple trees we had planted. As I made my way up the hill slowly, I could hear what sounded like turkeys milling around in the orchard ahead of me. Having learned my lesson earlier in the hunt, I crept up slowly and quietly, carefully pushing my shotgun over the rise in front of me.

There is a large, dead, oak tree at the mouth of the trail leading into the orchard, and I used it to cover my approach. I got into position, then carefully peeked around the tree at what I expected to be a flock of turkeys.

Instead, I found myself looking at a guy dressed in camouflage, wearing a blaze orange vest and hat. This was concerning, as this is private property, and I did not recognize this fellow. He was clearly hunting, based on his clothing and the scoped .22 rifle he had on his back. There is a big parcel of public land nearby, so I figured this hunter must simply be lost. Even so, I watched him from behind the tree for awhile, just to be sure.

It quickly became apparent to me that this guy was lost. He was standing in the middle of the orchard, with his phone in his hand and spinning around. I guessed he was trying to get his phone’s map to show him what direction to go. After spinning around a few times, the lost hunter started walking away from me, but not on the most direct route back to the county land.

I stood up from my hiding spot, and got his attention by whistling and waving my blaze orange hat in the air. He stopped, and I made my way in his direction. It turned out he was indeed lost, having been dropped off in the public land nearby earlier in the day. I politely, but firmly, brought him to the public land border, and pointed him in the direction of the trail that would take him out of the woods.

With the lost squirrel hunter escorted away, I finished the last day of my hunt without a turkey. I returned to the cabin, made myself dinner, and went to bed. In the morning, I needed to clean up the cabin and head back to my parent’s house.

That following morning, I finished my clean up chores quickly, and a little voice in the back of my head told me to drive the trails before I left. With my grandpa’s shotgun tucked in a case but with shotshells close at hand, I drove my truck through the forest trails.

As I neared the same spot where I found the lost squirrel hunter, I broke into a clearing and found myself face to face with the flock of turkeys. They had, of course, seen me, but didn’t seem too concerned. I hopped out of my truck, uncased the shotgun, loaded three shells, and started moving towards the turkeys.

Once I started jogging towards them, the turkeys scrambled. This time, I was able to close the distance to them by “running” on the trail parallel to the woods in which they sought refuge. My route was picked to keep them from running off into the public land, and to chase them down towards the lake.

I must have confused them, because they stopped running, and I jogged into the woods after them again. This time, instead of running as a large gaggle, they scattered into smaller groups. One bird, a hen, tried running off on her own. I zeroed in on her and got ready.

She walked away from me, and tried to take refuge behind a large tree. Unluckily for her, but great for me, she was about to give me the most perfect shot possible. With the tree protecting her body, she poked just her head around to look at me. It was the perfect shot, I had no worries about pellets in the meat when I pulled the trigger.

With my first turkey bagged, I finally headed home. I processed the bird, saving a few feathers in the process, and vacuum sealed the meat and put it in the freezer. My first turkey hunt was a little unorthodox, but if it works, it works.

Unfortunately for me, I forgot the meat in the freezer when I returned to Hawai’i, but my parents have promised they won’t eat it in my absence. I guess I will just have to go back for a spring turkey hunt, perhaps I can see how turkey hunting is supposed to be done.

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed and have a great week!