...or maybe the Bird Fever, as in Spring Gobbler Fever. It's getting close to turkey season now, and while I love bowhunting whitetails the most, spring turkey hunting is a close second. There is just something about sitting in the pre-dawn darkness on an early spring morning, listening to those thunderous gobbles, anticipating the fly-down, watching the outdoors come to life as the sun breaks the budding tree tops, it's hard to beat. The following story is one I wrote for NJ-HUNTER.com several years ago about my first longbeard. Joe has since totally redone his site, and while he has re-posted some, many of the old stories are no longer up there. Since it's the time of year when about all we can do is read about hunts passed, and dream of ones to come, here is an old blast from the past I enjoy re-reading myself, hope you enjoy it.
Another First.
Still a full hour before first light, I went over a mental checklist to ensure I had all of my gear. I took another sip of hot coffee as I waited for the defrosters to do the job on the thick crust of frost covering my windshield. The thermometer registered 30 degree’s, and as I walked outside at 4:30am, I discovered it was every bit that cold. It seemed like an exceptional deer hunting morning, except for the fact that it was May 7th, and the first day of Turkey Season for the permit I carried. Last week the temperatures had soared into the 90’s each day, with not a cloud in sight. Now, just two days after blistering heat, the mercury was flirting with the upper 20’s. The windshield soon cleared and I was off to meet my brother for what would be my first day of turkey hunting.
Turkey hunting in New Jersey is a relatively new adventure. The Division of Fish Game and Wildlife (now know as the Division of Fish and Wildlife) began trapping and relocating wild turkeys throughout the State in 1979. In 1981, New Jersey held it’s first turkey season. The season lasted for three weeks and 900 permits were made available for portions of Warren and Sussex counties. In 1985, the season was extended to five weeks, as the Division continued to relocate turkeys. In 1997, the first Statewide Turkey Season was held in New Jersey. Through continued restoration efforts, even the Southern counties of Burlington, Camden, Gloucester, Salem, Cumberland, Atlantic and Cape May produced huntable populations of America’s favorite game bird. The area I would be hunting was one of the last to be opened, but held a good population of turkeys.
We had done some scouting, and gotten a scouting report from a friend, of a flock passing through the back of an old weed field each morning. Our informant had told us the birds were as reliable as the sunrise, moving east to west across the field. The field was only about 40 yards wide, and maybe 75 yards long. The north side of the field was bordered by a thick stand of immature pines. The remaining three sides were surrounded by oaks and laurel thickets. My brother Brian and I set up in the pines to the north. We placed a jake and hen decoy 25 yards from our position and about 25 yards from the east edge of the field. We were settled in by 5:40am and started to call softly. All we heard was silence, not one gobble. At 7:30am, someone drove back along the west edge of the field in a truck, and entered the woods on an old woods road, stopping not far from the edge of the field. We picked up the decoys and headed for our next location 200 yards away. Just a few yards short of our intended calling spot, we busted a gobbler out of the area. Now this was getting frustrating. It was now 8:30am, so we drove to another spot to see if we could get a gobbler to respond. Again, not a peep out of the birds.
Brian left for work at 9:00am, so I was on my own. I walked the 4-wheeler trail that snakes for a mile through the woods we began hunting at first light, yelping every 100 yards or so to see if I could get a response. Still no gobbles. At a location about two thirds of the way down the trail, I stopped, yelped a few times and waited for about 5 minutes. It was about 10:30am now, and I had heard one gobbling from this very spot at 10:30am yesterday while walking the path. As I turned to leave, I saw a tom looking at me from 20 yards away. He quickly fled, but since this area is new to turkey hunting, and no one else seems to be hunting these woods, I quietly set up against a tree, waited about five minutes, and began calling softly. With a few minutes, I had a nice sized gobbler staring at me from 15 yards away. I then received my first lesson in turkey hunting; switching from call to gun will not go unnoticed by these cagey birds, even when they haven’t been previously hunted. He was gone before I could wish for a good sight picture. I continued to call for the remainder of legal hunting hours, then called it quits at 12 noon without another encounter.
Tuesday began a little warmer, and very foggy. We hunted with a friend, “T” Wilson. T has been hunting turkeys about as long as anyone in New Jersey. He has some prime locations, and is a very seasoned caller. The drive was painstakingly slow and treacherous, along winding back roads and through the thick fog. We finally arrived at just after 5:00am and met T in his butcher shop. T does a thriving business creating venison specialties such as pepperoni, jerky, summer sausage and scrapple. This week he showcased his latest; Dutch Apple Venison Sausage. He explained, “it’s venison sausage with apples and cinnamon, taste’s like apple pie” . Apple pie sausage? "I’ll take your word for it", I replied. We set off to one of his favorite haunts, set up and T began calling softly as first light tried to penetrate the thick fog. After an hour with no replies, we decided to try another spot.
Another First.
Still a full hour before first light, I went over a mental checklist to ensure I had all of my gear. I took another sip of hot coffee as I waited for the defrosters to do the job on the thick crust of frost covering my windshield. The thermometer registered 30 degree’s, and as I walked outside at 4:30am, I discovered it was every bit that cold. It seemed like an exceptional deer hunting morning, except for the fact that it was May 7th, and the first day of Turkey Season for the permit I carried. Last week the temperatures had soared into the 90’s each day, with not a cloud in sight. Now, just two days after blistering heat, the mercury was flirting with the upper 20’s. The windshield soon cleared and I was off to meet my brother for what would be my first day of turkey hunting.
Turkey hunting in New Jersey is a relatively new adventure. The Division of Fish Game and Wildlife (now know as the Division of Fish and Wildlife) began trapping and relocating wild turkeys throughout the State in 1979. In 1981, New Jersey held it’s first turkey season. The season lasted for three weeks and 900 permits were made available for portions of Warren and Sussex counties. In 1985, the season was extended to five weeks, as the Division continued to relocate turkeys. In 1997, the first Statewide Turkey Season was held in New Jersey. Through continued restoration efforts, even the Southern counties of Burlington, Camden, Gloucester, Salem, Cumberland, Atlantic and Cape May produced huntable populations of America’s favorite game bird. The area I would be hunting was one of the last to be opened, but held a good population of turkeys.
We had done some scouting, and gotten a scouting report from a friend, of a flock passing through the back of an old weed field each morning. Our informant had told us the birds were as reliable as the sunrise, moving east to west across the field. The field was only about 40 yards wide, and maybe 75 yards long. The north side of the field was bordered by a thick stand of immature pines. The remaining three sides were surrounded by oaks and laurel thickets. My brother Brian and I set up in the pines to the north. We placed a jake and hen decoy 25 yards from our position and about 25 yards from the east edge of the field. We were settled in by 5:40am and started to call softly. All we heard was silence, not one gobble. At 7:30am, someone drove back along the west edge of the field in a truck, and entered the woods on an old woods road, stopping not far from the edge of the field. We picked up the decoys and headed for our next location 200 yards away. Just a few yards short of our intended calling spot, we busted a gobbler out of the area. Now this was getting frustrating. It was now 8:30am, so we drove to another spot to see if we could get a gobbler to respond. Again, not a peep out of the birds.
Brian left for work at 9:00am, so I was on my own. I walked the 4-wheeler trail that snakes for a mile through the woods we began hunting at first light, yelping every 100 yards or so to see if I could get a response. Still no gobbles. At a location about two thirds of the way down the trail, I stopped, yelped a few times and waited for about 5 minutes. It was about 10:30am now, and I had heard one gobbling from this very spot at 10:30am yesterday while walking the path. As I turned to leave, I saw a tom looking at me from 20 yards away. He quickly fled, but since this area is new to turkey hunting, and no one else seems to be hunting these woods, I quietly set up against a tree, waited about five minutes, and began calling softly. With a few minutes, I had a nice sized gobbler staring at me from 15 yards away. I then received my first lesson in turkey hunting; switching from call to gun will not go unnoticed by these cagey birds, even when they haven’t been previously hunted. He was gone before I could wish for a good sight picture. I continued to call for the remainder of legal hunting hours, then called it quits at 12 noon without another encounter.
Tuesday began a little warmer, and very foggy. We hunted with a friend, “T” Wilson. T has been hunting turkeys about as long as anyone in New Jersey. He has some prime locations, and is a very seasoned caller. The drive was painstakingly slow and treacherous, along winding back roads and through the thick fog. We finally arrived at just after 5:00am and met T in his butcher shop. T does a thriving business creating venison specialties such as pepperoni, jerky, summer sausage and scrapple. This week he showcased his latest; Dutch Apple Venison Sausage. He explained, “it’s venison sausage with apples and cinnamon, taste’s like apple pie” . Apple pie sausage? "I’ll take your word for it", I replied. We set off to one of his favorite haunts, set up and T began calling softly as first light tried to penetrate the thick fog. After an hour with no replies, we decided to try another spot.
The fog was thick; pea soup thick. Visibility was down to less than 40 yards in some places. For the next hour and a half, water droplets formed on the vegetation from the fog, and fell from the trees like the rain we have been praying for, but the fog refused to lift, and the birds refused to gobble. We decided to take a break and grab some breakfast at 9:00am. After about 45 minutes of talking turkey and eating sausage, the sun won the battle and the fog was nearly gone. We decided to head back to T’s house and search for a gobbler in the small wood lot bordering his property. As we made our way down the drive leading to his shop, we noticed that his penned gobbler was going crazy. The bird was pacing back and forth at the rear of the pen, gobbling at the back field on every other step. His neighbor sat in his truck, reading a book and watching the empty field. As I closed the door, a gobble instantly echoed back from just inside the wood line, in the southeast corner of the field. After a quick chat with his neighbor, T returned to tell us that 3 long beards and three hens had just walked into the woods in the corner next to the woodpile. We quickly crept along the opposite side and set up less than 100 yards from where they slipped into the woods. Calling soon produced a gobble, and another, but they were heading further away. For the next hour, we continued to get an occasional gobble, each time further away than the last. And so ended the second day.
Wednesday morning arrived somewhat warmer than the previous days. With temperatures near the 50-degree mark, and daytime highs forecast in the high 70’s, it seemed like maybe spring really had arrived. First light found Brian and I setting up in the same location we had tried Monday morning. With the decoy’s set, we were settling into our positions when we heard a gobble 200 yards east of the field. He gobbled again. Brian started some soft clucks, which were immediately answered with another gobble. In the next few minutes, the tom covered the 200 yards to the field, gobbling 5 times on the way in. His last gobble was right near the southeast corner of the field. Silence prevailed for two minutes, then, suddenly, he came charging from the east edge of the field, straight at the decoy’s. I dumped him at 25 yards with one shot from my Remington 870, one second after first seeing him. In another instant, he would have knocked the decoy’s over and been out of the field. I’m admittedly new to turkey hunting, but never even heard on one charging in that fast. We both jumped up and the high-fives began. My first turkey, and man was that fun.
At the check-in station my bird weighed 19 pounds, sported a 10 inch beard and 1 1/8 spurs. A fantastic way to begin what looks like will become another addiction to fight. If it gets as bad as deer hunting, I just might have to quit working and feed my habit.
