05-19-2004, 04:30 AM
Spring Turkey Hunt Ends On Positive Note
by Lowell Washburn
McGREGOR---The fourth and final segment of the 2004 Iowa spring turkey hunting season concluded on Sunday. For about 60,000 or so of us, there are some exciting memories and what seems like a long, long wait until next year's season rolls around.
The DNR hunter survey cards aren't back yet and so, of course, it's too early to answer the frequently asked questions regarding how many total turkeys were bagged this spring. But I don't think I'm going too far out on a limb to say that the 2004 spring hunt will certainly prove to be one of our best ever. Since the first segment of this year's turkey season began on April 12, I've talked to a large number of hunters from across the state. In every instance, the hunters had either bagged a bird or had had plenty of close encounters.
It was a memorable season for me as well. On the first morning I hunted [of the first season], I passed up a jake just after sunrise and then called in and bagged a gobbler 10 minutes later. I hunted with bow and arrow during the fourth season, and that proved to be a bit more challenging. After not bagging any of the seven birds that could have been taken with a gun, I finally arrowed a three-year-old tom at a distance of 7 1/2 feet. After stowing the shotgun and bow, I returned to the telephoto camera lens. From the beginning of April until now, I've photographed a total of 26 jakes and toms as well as numerous hens, which easily surpasses any previous year.
I spent the last weekend of the 2004 season poking around the wooded blufflands near McGregor. I didn't have any particular mission in mind -- I just hoped to see, hear, and maybe photograph one more wild turkey, find a late mushroom or two, and for sure take advantage of the world class birding opportunities that come to the Mississippi River woodlands each May.
The mushroom hunting provided a pleasant surprise. In spite of the late date, I collected around 10 pounds of morels during my first hour or so in the woods. The songbirds were just as plentiful, and the timber was bursting with their sound and color. The best surprise, however, came on Saturday night when I received a phone call from my good friend Ed Kotz, Sr.
Kotz, who lives in Grinnell, had heard that I was in Northeast Iowa, and thought he might drop by the following morning and attempt to bag a gobbler during the season's final day. During the past three decades, or so, Ed and I have pursued pheasants, waterfowl, and deer during hunts that took place in Iowa, Missouri, and Wyoming. Ed is 80 years old now. And although he doesn't hunt upland birds, geese, or big game anymore, he just can't seem to get turkeys out of his system. After we hung up the phone, I really began to look forward to the following morning.
When Kotz arrived at 4:30 a.m., he seemed downright chipper. I knew he'd left home by 1:30 in order to get here in time to hear the first gobble.
"Wow. I hope I can still do that at 80," I thought to myself.
The stars were beginning to fade into what promised to be perfect morning -- cool, clear and calm. Within minutes of entering the timber, we were greeted to the day's first gobbles. Unfortunately, none of the clamor was coming from our ridge. Instead of traversing the steep, 300-foot decent into the next valley, we decided to continue down the logging trail we were on. It paid off. Ten minutes later a gobbler fired up less than 200 yards distant.
We cautiously picked our way through the timber until we were within a hundred yards or less of the turkey's roost tree. After taking a seat against an ancient maple, we released a series of soft tree yelps in the tom's direction. He responded by going nuts with a triple gobble.
Five minutes later, the tom flew down and headed in our direction. Although we couldn't see the tom through the thick understory, his latest gobble said the bird was within 60 yards or so.
"Get ready," I whispered. I realized that I really didn't need to say that, I just have a way of displaying a firm grasp of the obvious whenever wild turkeys are nearby.
Suddenly, a second gobbler fired up just over the hilltop. The bird began to gobble incessantly, and the sounds told us that he was approaching fast. The end result was that the second [apparently dominant] bird drove the close [subdominant] tom back over the ridgetop. Once that task was accomplished, the dominant bird refused to come closer. No amount of pleading could coax him, and the bird finally gobbled his way back out of earshot. Ed didn't seem too disappointed, and we both agreed that it had been a loud and exciting encounter.
We moved on. During the next couple of hours, we identified a ton of songbirds, several species of woodland wildflowers, and found more mushrooms. We discovered one morel that was practically large enough to hang ornaments on.
"I've never seen anything like this," said Kotz. "I doubt I'll ever see a mushroom as big as this again."
I didn't have anything to measure with, but I know that morel was at least 9 1/2 to 10 inches tall. Unfortunately, the plant had just passed its prime. We decided to leave it standing and come back next May to gather its offspring.
Later, we had another close encounter with a tom that gobbled twice -- from directly behind us, of course. Soon after that, it was time for me to head back home.
We both agreed that it had been a great outing in spite of not bagging a bird. Ed suddenly announced that he hadn't had enough yet, and was heading back into the woods for another hour or two. That night he left me a voice message saying he'd watched two adult gobblers herd a flock of three hens around in an opening in the timber. He hadn't been able to entice them to come over to his position, but had sure enjoyed the show. Hours later, his voice still carried the enthusiasm of that encounter.
"Wow," I thought to myself. "I sure hope I can do that at 80."
[signature]
by Lowell Washburn
McGREGOR---The fourth and final segment of the 2004 Iowa spring turkey hunting season concluded on Sunday. For about 60,000 or so of us, there are some exciting memories and what seems like a long, long wait until next year's season rolls around.
The DNR hunter survey cards aren't back yet and so, of course, it's too early to answer the frequently asked questions regarding how many total turkeys were bagged this spring. But I don't think I'm going too far out on a limb to say that the 2004 spring hunt will certainly prove to be one of our best ever. Since the first segment of this year's turkey season began on April 12, I've talked to a large number of hunters from across the state. In every instance, the hunters had either bagged a bird or had had plenty of close encounters.
It was a memorable season for me as well. On the first morning I hunted [of the first season], I passed up a jake just after sunrise and then called in and bagged a gobbler 10 minutes later. I hunted with bow and arrow during the fourth season, and that proved to be a bit more challenging. After not bagging any of the seven birds that could have been taken with a gun, I finally arrowed a three-year-old tom at a distance of 7 1/2 feet. After stowing the shotgun and bow, I returned to the telephoto camera lens. From the beginning of April until now, I've photographed a total of 26 jakes and toms as well as numerous hens, which easily surpasses any previous year.
I spent the last weekend of the 2004 season poking around the wooded blufflands near McGregor. I didn't have any particular mission in mind -- I just hoped to see, hear, and maybe photograph one more wild turkey, find a late mushroom or two, and for sure take advantage of the world class birding opportunities that come to the Mississippi River woodlands each May.
The mushroom hunting provided a pleasant surprise. In spite of the late date, I collected around 10 pounds of morels during my first hour or so in the woods. The songbirds were just as plentiful, and the timber was bursting with their sound and color. The best surprise, however, came on Saturday night when I received a phone call from my good friend Ed Kotz, Sr.
Kotz, who lives in Grinnell, had heard that I was in Northeast Iowa, and thought he might drop by the following morning and attempt to bag a gobbler during the season's final day. During the past three decades, or so, Ed and I have pursued pheasants, waterfowl, and deer during hunts that took place in Iowa, Missouri, and Wyoming. Ed is 80 years old now. And although he doesn't hunt upland birds, geese, or big game anymore, he just can't seem to get turkeys out of his system. After we hung up the phone, I really began to look forward to the following morning.
When Kotz arrived at 4:30 a.m., he seemed downright chipper. I knew he'd left home by 1:30 in order to get here in time to hear the first gobble.
"Wow. I hope I can still do that at 80," I thought to myself.
The stars were beginning to fade into what promised to be perfect morning -- cool, clear and calm. Within minutes of entering the timber, we were greeted to the day's first gobbles. Unfortunately, none of the clamor was coming from our ridge. Instead of traversing the steep, 300-foot decent into the next valley, we decided to continue down the logging trail we were on. It paid off. Ten minutes later a gobbler fired up less than 200 yards distant.
We cautiously picked our way through the timber until we were within a hundred yards or less of the turkey's roost tree. After taking a seat against an ancient maple, we released a series of soft tree yelps in the tom's direction. He responded by going nuts with a triple gobble.
Five minutes later, the tom flew down and headed in our direction. Although we couldn't see the tom through the thick understory, his latest gobble said the bird was within 60 yards or so.
"Get ready," I whispered. I realized that I really didn't need to say that, I just have a way of displaying a firm grasp of the obvious whenever wild turkeys are nearby.
Suddenly, a second gobbler fired up just over the hilltop. The bird began to gobble incessantly, and the sounds told us that he was approaching fast. The end result was that the second [apparently dominant] bird drove the close [subdominant] tom back over the ridgetop. Once that task was accomplished, the dominant bird refused to come closer. No amount of pleading could coax him, and the bird finally gobbled his way back out of earshot. Ed didn't seem too disappointed, and we both agreed that it had been a loud and exciting encounter.
We moved on. During the next couple of hours, we identified a ton of songbirds, several species of woodland wildflowers, and found more mushrooms. We discovered one morel that was practically large enough to hang ornaments on.
"I've never seen anything like this," said Kotz. "I doubt I'll ever see a mushroom as big as this again."
I didn't have anything to measure with, but I know that morel was at least 9 1/2 to 10 inches tall. Unfortunately, the plant had just passed its prime. We decided to leave it standing and come back next May to gather its offspring.
Later, we had another close encounter with a tom that gobbled twice -- from directly behind us, of course. Soon after that, it was time for me to head back home.
We both agreed that it had been a great outing in spite of not bagging a bird. Ed suddenly announced that he hadn't had enough yet, and was heading back into the woods for another hour or two. That night he left me a voice message saying he'd watched two adult gobblers herd a flock of three hens around in an opening in the timber. He hadn't been able to entice them to come over to his position, but had sure enjoyed the show. Hours later, his voice still carried the enthusiasm of that encounter.
"Wow," I thought to myself. "I sure hope I can do that at 80."
[signature]