dhaverstick
Lil-Rokslider
Missouri’s 2025 turkey season opened this past Monday and I have been chomping at the bit to get started. I had a fundraising gig to play Saturday evening for my high school alma mater in Eminence, MO so it was convenient for me to stay with Dad at the family farm to get ready for the opener.
Of course, Mother Nature always dumps a ton of rain around turkey season and this year was no exception. The creek on our farm separated me from the better turkey hunting spots, but I was able to wade it Sunday morning to do some scouting. We were supposed to get more rain that night, though, so getting across on Monday was a question mark.
The birds were gobbling well Sunday morning so that was encouraging. I spent the day looking for mushrooms and generally enjoying the outdoors. I visited one of my favorite spots on our farm, a small glade way up in a side holler on the northwest side of our place. I got some nice photos of wildflowers and found parts of a couple different deer skeletons.
Monday started out cold and cloudy. Severe storms had moved through the area the night before and the creek had come up enough that I was not comfortable wading it in the dark. So I strapped on my turkey vest, which I refer to as my “mobile turkey command center”, grabbed Sweet Rachael, my 20-gauge flintlock fowler, and headed to the ridge on the west of our property. I had heard a bird up in Woodland Holler the day before and I thought there was a chance he might still be in the area. Calling him out of there would be a miracle, but, hey, that’s turkey hunting.
After two hours of hearing nothing, I walked back to my truck. When I arrived, a tom gobbled down near the house and that got me excited. I have killed birds in Dad’s front yard before and was not too proud to do it again. I hurried back home and set up in the little field about 200 yards from the front porch. The scenery was different, but the result was the same – no birds acknowledged my existence, despite my championship worthy calling. An hour went by before I finally gave up and vowed to figure out a way to get across Barren Fork Creek.
I walked the bank for a bit before finding a spot that I thought I could cross in my hip waders without too much difficulty. The air was still filled with turkey silence, but I had seen two toms in our middle hay field the day before at around this time, so I felt pretty good about my chances. Once across the water barrier, I started sneaking down the west edge of our middle hay field looking for turkeys.
My plan was to arrive at a place we call The Punkin Patch and set up there. It is at the south end of our middle hay field where Dad planted pumpkins many moons ago in a food plot. I have killed a lot of birds there over the years and it was where I had seen the two longbeards the day before. However, on my trek down the west side of that field to get to my destination, I saw a fan pop up about 200 yards in front of me. It was a nice tom with a hen. I knew there was no way he would come to me and, if I stayed on my current trajectory, I knew there was no way I could get to him without being seen. My only option was to backtrack a couple hundred yards, sneak across to the east side of the field, and come down to the Punkin Path that way. I figured either the hen might feed my direction and I could call her in or I might call in a different bird.
Putting this whole plan into action took some time so, of course, the turkeys were nowhere to be found by the time I arrived at my destination. I knew they were still in the area, so I set out my decoys in the old food plot and hunkered down behind my Ghostblind next to a big elm tree. I called a few times to let any lovesick gobbler in the area know that I was looking for company and then set back to wait.
A view from my blind
A turkey’s eye view of my hide – you’ll be hard pressed to spot my Ghostblind!
After about 20 minutes, a heard a gobble way up in Woodland Holler to my left. I figured it was the tom I had spotted so I got out my box call and yelped at him a few times. He answered me, but he was a long way off, and there was now a creek between us, so I wasn’t holding my breath for him to show up any time soon. Just to keep him interested, I yelped a couple of times again and this time I was answered on my right by an unknown bird only 100 yards away. I waited just a bit, called again, and he replied. This time he was closer. Game on!
I had been in this exact same scenario a couple years before, so I checked the powder in Sweet Rachael’s pan, cocked her hammer back, and started scanning the field edge to my right for a big blue head. There is a wet weather branch on that side of the field that the bird would have to cross, and I knew it might take him a few minutes to decide what to do. I was focused on a particular spot that the bird I had killed here two years ago had come out of and was surprised when I suddenly heard spitting and drumming just to the south of there.
I slowly turned my head to the right and was greeted with two puffed up birds slowly making their way to my decoys. It was most likely the two longbeards I had seen the day before. The distance from their field entry point to my decoys was only 70 yards but time crawled as they slowly sashayed my direction.
My plan was to let them come in and whip on my poor jake decoy while I videoed the whole thing. After getting some good footage, I would then pull the trigger on whichever tom gave me the first opportunity. Like all good battle plans, though, that one fell apart when the enemy was engaged. When the toms reached the jake, the lead bird was swelled up looking intimidating while the other one came out of strut, stuck his head straight up, and looked my way. All ideas of award-winning videography were then immediately replaced with the single thought, “Shoot!”, so I did. The still-breathing bird hung around for a while after his buddy collapsed and I thought I was gonna have to get a stick to run him off so I could pack up shop. He finally decided to go do something else, so I gathered my prize, picked up my toys, and started the long walk to the house. I would have given anything for someone to have gotten a photo of me wading the creek while holding my gun, boots, tom, and 500 pounds of essential turkey hunting gear that I always carry with me. It was certainly a great way to end to a good extended weekend!
Equipment notes: Sweet Rachael was custom made for me by my good friend, John Pruitt. She has a 42" Colerain turkey choke barrel and large Siler lock. The stock wood is from a walnut tree that came off my farm. The turkey load I use in that gun is 75 grains 3F powder, 1 over powder card, 1/4" lubed fiber wad, 1 1/2 oz. #6 shot, and 1 over shot card.
Darren
