Turkey Poops On You....Then Laughs.

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Lean in and take a sniff.

Remember this: It doesn't matter the height one is pooped on. ~Signed: The Pigeons~

You are still pooped on. ~Signed: The Turkeys~

Yesterday was the last day of turkey hunting season. It went out with a heavy rain, a flat tire, a bee hive, and then lots of sunshine. I spent my day down in a pine stand raking straw for my chickens' nesting boxes.

Several days before, I had an interesting encounter with a wild turkey hen and visited the unofficial Turkey Gobbler King of the area. I was out driving the golf cart with Nena Two Feathers; doing some calls in a place I perceived to be vacant of the feathered bird. First, I was down in the pine stand. The tree top fall-out from the previous winter snow storm littered the ground. I piled lite limbs up for housing to whatever wanted to move in. I purred and clucked; purred and cluck. I looked over to see Nena Two Feathers with her head sagging to the side, asleep. Leave it to Nena to nap on the job. I drove down the road like a bandit trying to wake her up without throwing her out; nothing worked.

I came to rest under a great oak tree, calling away, that abutted a wide open field yet untouched by the farmer's disc. I called again, waited, then nothing. I will attest that I was not dressed in camo for the occasion. I wore a red t-shirt with white and black piping and a pair of blue jeans. On reflection, I am sure I looked like a gigantic male turkey head ghosting around on a sea of blue.

I decided to go back down the road. I turned the curve. Up ahead of me was a turkey hen walking out into the road from the pine stand . I stopped hoping the bird wouldn't be spooked. Not wanting to menace wildlife, I watched her slowly walk down the road and into the old dried grass and wild mustard. I drove up and started doing some calls.

The bird was humorous to watch. She reminded me of a small land submarine as she made a semi-circle. Her motions were walk some, up periscope, walk some, down periscope. I followed her movements for about thirty minutes before she finally disappeared. I remembered I watched the movie U-571. Any minute the turkey would send out a torpedo through the dried grass to blow up the golf cart Destroyer.

My suspicions were this particular hen was the one being menaced by a menagerie of little foot-prints up and down the road. When out driving the golf cart, I would look down at the dirt to see canine, feline, opossum, or raccoon prints hot on the heels of the turkey bird. The writing on the clay was a little drama of sorts where the turkey heroine was stalked by all manner of predatory beast. I wasn't sure if those little robbers found her nest and rifled it.

Giving up on this momentary interaction, I put the golf cart in high gear (more of a slow crawl) to bolt down the road like a mad dodger. I drove to the Turkey Gobbler King's house and knocked on the door. A little short man came out with brilliant green eyes. I told him who I was and explained my cell phone was compromised therefore I couldn't call him back on Sunday as promised. He was fine with my explanation. I had my slate call and he told me, “Let's hear it.” I plugged off a couple of different calls. Seeming satisfied I wasn't a total waste of time, we walked down the steps to his truck. He dug inside and pulled out a jacket with his slates inside. He showed me a couple of things then asked did I have any diaphragms. I told him yes but I wasn't comfortable with their use because no one showed me the proper way. He told me which ones he liked and disliked. I think the oral diaphragms I owned were the ones he didn't care for. He began to call and can confirm; he is a boss.

From what I gathered from him, people have him do the calling while they do the shooting. He calls them in under the guise of getting laid only to have their head shot off. All through the conversation he did repeat the lack of birds around the area; behind his house included. He admitted he had stopped hunting because of the lack of quarry. I wondered if it were not because of over utilizing the landscape to acquire birds then not think they would ever disappear. What was there is now gone. He did feel the need to point this out to me: “Its called turkey hunting because you have to call up the bird; not turkey killing.” Here in my state we are not allowed to bait wild turkey but baiting the deer runs rampant. People pour corn out to lure deer on land all year long in some places. This causes very little work on the part of the hunter. Who would turn down a consistent meal? I am sure deer everywhere would be standing in the tree line, not to far from the feeder, like Pavlov’s dog to munch away. Speaking of dinner bells, I remember reading some dated articles where rifle hunting for bigger game in the mid-west wasn't so well received because the bear equated the gun shot with opportunity for easy food.

I then got to thinking about opportunity and forethought. If you have a private land owner who sees turkey breeding on their property, the opportunity to shoot one is there. Whether or not the person has the common sense to avoid taking every male due to opportunity, is a problem source. Going back to the same spot to capitalize on birds without consideration for number of males per females could lead the next season into a labeled “fair” or worse forecast. If you are gunning birds just to show off a kill in a photo or one-upping the Jones, then when there is nothing left, you rightly deserve the deficit. In consideration of predators, disease, natural disasters, nest destruction through farming, or some other malady, not planning into the future doesn't seem so smart. Yet we can not control the future but we can control ourselves.

Watch out for those types that when you bring this up will say under their breathe, "There is nothing to worry about." Or the one that justifies killing off all the jakes and toms because he or she is going to get their bird regardless. People will believe their own lie to justify and act. Some hunters act like there is a magical turkey factory out there in the forest that spits out birds on a regular basis while causing a surplus.

I know the thought does arise, if I don't kill the turkey then someone else will. The travesty of living in a community where everyone has their own ideas of doing things on personal land and in their private time adds to this problem. If not aforementioned, the problem stated exploitation of birds through opportunity with little regard for the following turkey season and lack of rule-of-thumb. I have met people who do not care for the long term propagation of a species. Once they have their turkey, if all of them go extinct, then what do they care. I keep hearing the words, “I got mine” ringing in my ears.

What can be done about this?
Yes, you can educate people with factoids and memberships. Once they get out there in the bushes where no one is watching (bam!); gone is gone and their shifty little eyes look to see if they were discovered. Not that everyone does this but you know who you are. Next comes the “woe is me”. The only way to solve this problem is lead by example and hope for the best.

What good is the NWTF if people go contrary to their work? Not that we need another governing body that dictates rules and regulations while controlling life and resources. The idea is to get as many people on board with the right ideal but amongst those memberships are people that don't follow suit. This is when you have the insertion of control via an outside source because the individual can't tell themselves no on occasion.

Given all of these thoughts I was okay with not getting myself a turkey because I knew that the forecast was “fair” and the weather was atrocious. I have seen other people who are affected by these same conditions but let us hope next year will be a far better score. Pray to the Turkey Gods. If we are lucky, we will not lose one hatchling from a poult.

As hunters we should always go by a rule-of-thumb. If you don't have one then get one. Don't be afraid to seek out people when you need help or a connection. Not all people are nice but try anyway. The ones that didn't give you the time of day will one day wish they had.

One need not be overtly aggressive because patience is everything especially in turkey hunting. I will reiterate while watching or interacting with wildlife, to get the best advantage, do not rush the quarry. You do not want to stress the animal or bring it to flight out of fear if your present intentions are not to harm the beast, bird, insect, or sea urchin. This being a unique situation to observe behavior, I found it quite rewarding.

Written by: W Harley Bloodworth

~Courtesy of the AOFH~

Down In The Gully With The Wild Bunch.



Remember this: A bird of a feather..........

I had planned for a week to go to this falconry meet in Darlington. Last year I missed it so this year I decided I was going to go. It was a 40 minute ride as I went by myself. Once I got over there, Dr. A G., welcomed me and put me in with this man we will call McMillan who was the falconer. So there were several teenage boys there. As I was walking up from parking my truck, I heard Dr. G telling McMillan I was a 'girl from the county over'. McMillan turned to me as I was walking and said some profanities then turned his head. As I was walking up I thought, "Oh shit! Please don't make me go through this today." Dr. G shot him a look of 'don't be rude to my guest'. I had talked to Dr. G on the phone previously. I decided I wasn't going to let anyone ruin my good time. They were strangers to me and I was a stranger to them. No need starting off relations on a bad foot.
So we walked off into the woods after turning Max, a red tailed hawk out, who belonged to McMillan. We treked down into the woods. As they went along they would find vines to shake on trees to wake the squirrel from their nests.
I had my doubts on this because the day was windy and cold. Usually even the bigger animals do not come out. It has also been a full moon so they do their eating at night then sleep all day. Squirrels usually go into a real deep sleep that is almost like being dead but they are not.
This raptor is trailing us above from tree limb to tree limb. I'm trying to be nice and limit my questions so as not to be annoying. The teenagers are walking everywhere. McMillan said this would distract the bird and Max would become bored or hunt on his own. There is scat all over the woods, areas where squirrel have been digging, turkey feathers from dead birds, rabbit and fox holes, and tree scrapings made by deer. The place we went to almost reminded me of North Carolina because it was full of hills. Finally we came to this lowland place by the river. One side went over into a steep drop the other into a deep gully that had a stream bed at its bottom that fed down into the river. Finally after some shaking, hollering, and knocking McMillan runs a squirrel out.
I heard the word, "Squirrel" and thought, man they look like a pack of coon hounds. So this squirrel ran up a pine tree then over to its nest in another tree. McMillan had treed the squirrel. The squirrel ran across the gully by way of the canopy. Next thing I saw was a bunch of kids bailing into this gully on their back sliding all the way down to land in the mush. I was at this point standing on the opposite side from whince the squirrel had come. Two other young boys were over there with me. I started laughing and told them to wait because the squirrel would come back most likely to the same Pine tree. The sight from my side looked like something from Clan of the Cave Bear. I was standing there resting on my walking stick; one big kid was resting up against the tree and the other sitting on the ground.  The others were across the way beating on this tree I couldn't even hug, with hands and sticks, yelling in excited voiced, tossing things and rolling around in the leaves while trying to crawl up this hill. I put my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing. The bird just sat up in the tree. I am sure he was amused too.
I did have my concerns about someone breaking a leg or sliding to their death much like Sonny Bono.
One of the kids I asked to pass the time: What are you going to school for? He says Cryptozoology.
The kid sitting asks me: What is that?
I said: That is when shit may not be real and you go looking for it to prove it exists. (Much like love or a good decent person.)
The Crypto kid seemed perturbed and said: Its a valid science.
The kid with braces says: Like what?
I said: Bigfoot or the Lockness Monster. Once again I found myself holding down my mouth.
The kid with braces looks at the Crypto kid and says: You can look at the sky long enough and swear you see a UFO.
 I almost pissed my pants holding in a belly laugh. That kid with braces looked at me with a sly metallic grin and walked off.
Finally Wormy, the  squirrel decides he wants to watch the humans run around in circles or at least back across the gully. Here come Wormy the squirrel, there went the wild bunch. They came back to where we were standing. The bird came over to the squirrel nest then hijacked it. The squirrel fell out then got away. By then, McMillan and the Wildbunch were beat. I was poking around in holes and tree logs. By this time I had walked down into the stream bed. So giving up they decided to climb back over the other side. I was almost up past the guys when I heard McMillan say, "Jesus Christ, she's gonna get to the top of the hill before us." (I was really starting to get a clue this man didn't want me there? lmao). I was just there for a good time. Maybe I threatened him in some way?
This one boy was out before me. I asked him did the others come out. No answer. We walked on to find McMillan. He was out on the main highway with another kid. The kid that was with me had to go back for the other two.
At this point, McMillan decides he wants to hold a conversation with me on the side of the road. I figured he was satisfying some weird curiosity. So I answered his questions. We finally got off the road and back to the barn. The boys decide to go find something to eat. Dr. G decided to take these people off hunting somewhere else. I was left to stare at McMillan. At this point I figured this man didn't like women.
McMillan then surprises me and says: Would you like to go off into the woods with me alone?
I said: Sure, what did you have in mind? (Okay I did have my concerns.)
McMillan: You follow me in your truck. We'll go down the road and walk another spot with less people.
I said: Okay. I'm there.
We go down the road to a different spot that is in some Pine trees down this dirt road.
As we are walking through the woods I thought he was more concerned in finding out about my bank account. He was pretty interested in the vehicle I was driving. So for myself I avoided any questions about work. I would rather someone like me for me and not what I can do for them. I was there for the experience not the questionaire. He asked me if I was married and had kids. I wasn't even annoyed because usually when I walk around in any wooded area I don't think about much. I just look at the ground, see what I can find, and try to be myself or free at least.
At some point I don't know when it occured but I most have said something to that man or he was testing me.
He walked me through the briars, bogs, an alligator pond/marsh, and swamp, swamp, swamp. lmao. My shoe got stuck and I walked off without it then had to two handed pull it out of this black goop I like to call a tar pit.
There were no squirrel. McMillan pulls out his telemetry box to find the bird Max. We follow the sound to the end of another marshy spot.
After all that McMillan made my day. He redemned himself.
He looks at me and says. I think......I'm going to let you call down the bird.
I went stupid.
Blank stupid.
McMillan had trained this bird for four years and said it was skitish around people. I almost thought: God is he setting me up for some dashed hopes. Very daunting thoughts there.
I said. Great. But still stupid.
He hands me his leather glove and I put it on my left hand. I was holding a small piece of liver. Shaking it. Max was above me. McMillan gave me a bigger piece.
I laughed and told him the bird wasn't going to fly down because we didn' t find him a squirrel.  Max is in the center of the marsh in this tree. He flys over my head. I turned around. He's above me and McMillan is blowing a whistle but the bird is staring at me. So in three eloquent dives from tree limb to tree limb, he flys toward me then hangs in the air and lands as gentle as a snowflake on my glove. That was one of the more beautiful things I had ever seen.
In his face he looks weary.
I had the bird. He ate the liver then flew up to a lower branch. I handed the glove to McMillan and said: That was a special experience. I thank him for it. He took out another piece of meat and the bird flew down to the glove. He hooked Max up and we went back to the trucks through the woods. Of course there were more personal questions on his part but I did a fair job at dodging most of them.
We went back to the barn. We were standing around when the Game Warden and a cop showed up.
Its not a party until the cops show up.
It was a great time.
I'll have to send that Dr. G a Thank you note.
I was really in quite the good mood.

Written by: W Harley Bloodworth

~Courtesy of the AOFH~