Saturday, May 29, 2004

Mud Bird and Morels I've been a mid-season turkey hunter for years, but count me as the latest convert to late-season hunting. There are a few key advantages: 1. Mild weather. Compared to early April, late May is usually warm. This year, Thursday was a little TOO warm, but Wednesday morning was perfect: cool, calm and clear. 2. Easier to get permits. This is a biggie. Few people apply for late-season permits, so it's easier to get your first-choice zone. 3. Less competition. There are fewer hunters out during sixth period. Too many other things for the not-so-serious hunter to be doing, like trout fishing, walleye fishing, morel hunting, yard work... 4. Lots of foliage. Makes it harder to see in the woods, true, but then there's more cover for you, making it easier to hide. Remember, the turkeys don't know you're after them, so if you don't give yourself away, they are not looking for you. 5. THIS IS THE REAL BIGGIE. Most hens are sitting on eggs by now, while toms are still actively looking for hens to breed. If you doubt this, ask turkey pro Jack Jensen or NWTF CEO, Rob Keck. Both of them hunted sixth period this year as part of an annual hunt hosted by NWTF board member Bill Torhorst. (For more on this hunt, see my story in next week's Wisconsin Outdoor News). I won't give away everything in that story, but consider this: Of the 12 licensed hunters in that group, 8 shot adult toms and three of the others had plenty of opportunities. One of the three missed three different toms in two days. Another (her dad) was waiting for her to get a bird before taking one himself. A third called in a bunch of birds for other hunters and just ran out of time before taking one himself. The fourth hunter was a novice with a Learn-to-Hunt permit. Last May, I stopped in to visit with the hunters who took part in this hunt and found that 7 of 8 hunters had shot three- and four-year-old toms by Thursday! I was impressed. Rob Keck pointed out that hens were on their nests and the boss toms were still looking for action. I filed that info and applied for sixth period this year, got the permit and joined the NWTF group hunting with Torhorst south and west of Madison. Tuesday evening, Charley Burke and I scouted the field we planned to hunt the next morning and set up Charley's Double Bull blind for my camera crew, Marshall Savick and Art Welter. Birds had been roosting in the hills surrounding the field all spring, we had been told. The next morning, we were in place before 4:30. Cardinals were already singing, but we didn't hear a gobble until just before 5:00. Then one bird sounded off and Charley answered with a tree yelp on a slate call. Charley and that tom talked back and forth for about ten minutes, then at least two other toms started gobbling, so close we could hear them drumming on the roost! They sounded like they were right behind the camera blind. The camera, of course, was pointed out toward the field where we anticipated the birds would pitch down. A hen chimed in, and eventually the birds all flew down and walked away from us uphill through the woods, leaving us looking out at an empty field, half alfalfa and half newly planted corn. One tom showed himself a few times just inside the edge about 75 yards from us, but he wouldn't step into the soaking wet, knee-high alfalfa. I didn't blame him. My pants were drenched from the knees down from walking in. Charley made a scouting foray around 8:00 a.m. and came back to say there was a big tom displaying in a field up the hill. We opted to stay put, rather than try to move our four-man parade to the other field. Charley and I took a little nap, then I awoke to his slate call yelping. To my surprise, a gobbler answered. Close. Charley yelped again, and the tom gobbled back. That was the last gobble he ever made. He stepped out of the woods 150 yards across the planted cornfield and slowly made his way toward our two hen decoys. Charley started purring and kept up that soothing call as the tom came closer. He acted rather nonchalant, pecking at the ground as he came. Halfway across, he displayed briefly, then continued walking. We noticed he was having trouble lifting his feet, which were heavy with clay. He didn't like the mud, but that's where the fake hens were, so on he came. At 30 yards from us and about 10 from the decoys, the tom stopped and went into a full display. I whispered to Charley, "Any time." Charley made a few loud cutts on the slate call. The tom stretched his neck up to check us out and I touched off the Mossberg 835. The 3 1/2-inch load of Federal copper-plated, buffered 6s bowled him over. We jumped up and headed across the field, as the tom kicked and flopped and coated himself thoroughly with wet clay. I've shot bigger birds, but never one that made himself uglier in his dying moments. We tagged him, reenacted some calling and the shot for a different camera angle, then zipped him into a Sling-it and headed for the truck. As the rest of the gang gathered for lunch, we learned Heather Keck, Cassie Torhorst and Jack Jensen had all shot adult toms. Cassie's bird weighed in at over 24 pounds. Mine and the others were all 22-something. All had spurs in the one-inch range, making them three- or four-year-olds. I spent the afternoon on the phone, lining up things to do on Thursday and Friday, now that my bird was in the bag and in the can. Thursday morning, I joined Bill and Bobby Aschilman and Bobby's girlfriend, Britni Pospichal to hunt morels. With all the rain, we had high hopes, but none of us had scouted the woods we were assigned to (Huntmaster Bill Torhorst wanted us out of the way of the other turkey hunters.). In less than an hour, though, we located some dead elms and filled a couple bags with morels. Most of them were a few days old, but some were fresh. I christened my Spore Boy bag from Morel Heaven, and Bobby loaded up a mesh onion bag. We quit with maybe 10 pounds of morels because we didn't need any more for a TV segment. Besides, I had to go fishing in the afternoon. Thursday afternoon found me and the crew on Lake Kegonsa with Joe Okada in Joe's Tuffy, trolling for walleyes. I was pleased to see Joe runs a Yamaha Four-Stroke. His is a big 250, while I'm content to run the 115 on my Crestliner. Three hours of trolling stickbaits and cranks netted three short walleyes, a nice crappie and a respectable white bass. Barely enough for a segment, but we told Joe we'd be back to try it again. I iced the panfish for a fresh meal. Friday morning, engineer Art Welter and I had another breakfast at the Wildcat Lanes in Verona, the only non-McD breakfast joint we could find. We stepped into the parking lot and witnessed a heavy gray cloud bank shearing toward us from the west. The front was here, and our planned muskie outing with retired DNR fisheries chief (and now outdoor writer) Lee Kernen and fishing guide Lee Tauchen was washed out. Back at the Super 8, Doc Dettmer and Scott Staley were cleaning Doc's bird, which he managed to bag just before the rain hit. Doc is chairman of the NWTF board and another rabid turkey hunter. By 9:00, of course, the sky cleared, but the temp had dropped 20 degrees and the prolonged rain had likely put down the fish, so we packed up and headed home. Later that afternoon, Bill Torhorst shot a monster tom with a double beard (13-inch plus) and spurs of 1 7/8" to cap his hunt. Sunday, we learned, 7-year-old Carson Torhorst called in a nice tom for his mom, Dr. Sue Torhorst, M.D. Carson wields a mean box call! He uses a call made by Gene Upward, of Hazel Green. Gene's calls have won many awards in decorative competition, but they make believable turkey sounds, too. A call that just looks pretty is like kissing your sister - something essential is missing. And that, dear friends, is about all I care to say about this year's Wisconsin hunt. Anything else will be posted on the Home page. Later... 6:50:16 PM    comment []

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