More turkeys by numbers

Recently back from our annual spring turkey hunt and family visit to the farmstead in CT, Richie Feller's post inspires me to file a report. After about 12 hours on the road, Angela, the boys, the dogs and I pulled into my folks' yard in NW CT about 1 a.m. on May 8, the 2nd day of the CT spring turkey season. Wife and I got a couple hours sleep before getting up and out to the woods in search of gobblers. Ange had an uneventful, rainy morning, but I had some activity right off, with a tom and a jake gobbling from the roost probably a few hundred yards away from the south boundary of my little brother's woodlot. I gave a few sleepy roost yelps, then waited about 15 minutes (until after the birds were on the ground) before continuing with yelps, clucks and purrs from slate and mouth calls. No hunters on the state land competed with me this year, and pretty soon two toms came into view up the ridge of mature oak. The lead bird did most of the gobbling and all of the strutting. I was able to get the gun up when they passed behind some large trees, and took the lead bird at about 15 yards. He was the biggest tom I'd killed, weighing in at 21 lbs (9 in beard, 1+ in spurs). I was able to get out a couple more hours that morning, walking and calling and trying to keep the calls dry, but I only got answers from a couple hens.

The next morning I went back to the same spot to start the day. The rain was pretty steady from sunrise on. No gobblers were talking in the woods (but many wood and hermit thrushes, various warblers, and a pant load of red-bellied woodpeckers); a check of the fields turned up nothing, so I returned to the house to get the kids' breakfast and have pot of coffee. I went out again late morning, this time on my folks' farm, and spotted a group of toms about 3 tenths of a mile away across the valley on the neighbors side-hill field. Even though the wind was in my face, I decided to hammer at them on the box call. I checked for a reaction from them through my binocs, but not surprisingly they didn't seem to notice. After about the 4th salvo of yelps, a gobbler answered from the valley below, about 1000 feet away; I could see another tom down there as well, on the neighboring farm property. Twenty minutes of trying to call these birds across the swamp and up through a nearly impenetrable overgrown multiflora rose-choked pasture didn't seem to be working, so I picked my way down into the soggy tangle to meet them most of the way. I got to within about 70 yards of the birds and stopped in the most open area I could find. There was no place to sit where you could see any distance at all, so I stood next to a tree. The toms gobbled from the neighbor's land, and a hen in my folks' overgrown thorny pasture swamp, between the toms and me, began calling. I laid my gun down to extricate myself from a rose bush, and gave some aggressive clucks and purrs followed by a jake gobble, which elicited some excited gobbles. I repeated the call combo, which again was answered, then I just kept my eyes open. After a few minutes I took a step to get a better view, and saw a tom in an opening 25 yards away about the same time he saw me. As quickly and smoothly as I could I reached for my shotgun on the ground, shouldered it an fired a shot to his head as he was beating a retreat into the puckerbrush. This bird was a copy of the one from the previous day, only a pound and a quarter heavier. I shouldered the tom and headed back up to the barn. Nearly to the barn, I noticed 3 toms in an old apple orchard 80 yards away watching me pass. I didn't break stride and continued on out of their sight, then ditched the dead gobbler and snuck around out of turkey view to an area the birds seemed to be headed. After 15 minutes the gobblers entered the field I'd hoped they'd been heading for. The topography allowed me to sneak fairly close. After getting their attention and drawing them a little closer using purrs and clucks, I stood up and shot the nearest tom. He turned out to be the smallest, weighing 17 pounds, but sporting one 11-inch and one 5-inch beard. That used up all my tags -- 3 toms totalling 60 lbs. The third day Angela killed 2 jakes, giving us a trip total of 90 lbs of turkey yielding about 50 lbs of meat. This certainly more than makes up for the grouse and ducks that are not stacked up in our freezer this year. The kids like their turkey meat, but I think Collin (the yearling) may like playing with his turkey leg toy at least as much. Dead animal parts make some of the best toys.

Collin the hog whisperer, gobbler leg in hand.

German Shorthair Puppies coming soon...

Puppies will be for sale in August...reserve now!

The Dam- Canoga's Artemis






















































The Sire- Molyneaux's Spud

ADKs Brook Trout Expedition

I am feeling like a lucky guy. I just celebrated Mother's Day with a beautiful woman, my wife and the mother of my children, who reportedly LOVES to eat Brook Trout. Good thing I caught a few recently. You know the adage, get thee to an Adirondack Brook Trout place when the Trillium and the Trout Lilies say so.








































So I ventured forth to the Adirondacks in search of Brook Trout and the admiration of my women folk, with my friend and work colleague Jeremy Dietrich. First efforts seemed paltry...




































But after a change of venue and of fishing approach, I was ready to take on real fish with 3 wt fly rod and reel. As we were purposefully "exploring" all Brook Trout likely waters in the St. Regis Mountain region, versatility and flexibility were at a premium. Might be shore casting, might be fishing from a canoe...



































We fished Barnum Pond, Black Pond, Deer Pond, Long Pond, Mountain Pond, Lost Pond, Slush Pond, the Osgood River and the St. Regis River, catching over 100 Brook Trout on Thurs, Fri, and Sat AM. Most of these we released...but some were immediately ushered to the realms of gastronomie... here, preparing and cooking trout at the Long Pond Lean-To.






















































I caught a number of fish on the fly, and a great deal of fish were landed after having casted spinners (Mepps and other). Jeremy proved to be quite a competent guide, and made great efforts to be where the fish were. And we caught some nice fish...






































Before I sign off, here are a few final shots of the river or lake and that addictive species we are after. Thanks to Jeremy for coordinating a most memorable trip.

Morels prove that animals do have rights

With little success on the turkey front (and little effort), I've turned my attention to the "other meat." While gardening on Saturday I noticed a mushroom poking from the base of a rock wall. Then another. Morels! Since this picture was taken, I've collected several more(ls), all awaiting their fate in hot butter with tonight's meal. Kids, we're going vegetarian!

This is clear proof that Tantillo's aesthetic arguments concerning pointy dogs, fine guns and shooting grouse on the wing are 100% wrong. Discuss, preferably using haiku.

Tori scores bullheads

...with a little help from George!

Turkey Hunting by the Numbers

2 states.
4 mornings, 4 friends.
1 backyard, 1 good farm, 1 big oak woods, 1 creekbed.
1 happy gobbler with 3 hens.
1 gift of asparagus
1 good cigar
2 ponds
1 patriotic--but not very smart--trout fisherman
1 broken 16ga deer shotgun
1 thesis read
0 shots taken
0 birds
0 speeding tickets.

Ithaca Town Court

Early morning trip;
Fishing with Ivy Leaguers.
Ticket?: $250...

Canoga Creek Brookie

My local Trout Unlimited Chapter continues to take an interest in Canoga Creek. We worked hard to get DEC to allow the stocking of Brook Trout in Canoga Creek and succeeded, bringing the fish back to a creek they have been absent from for over thirty years. I was fortunate to catch one on a little bee pattern delicately presented in front of a mini-log jam in about 1 foot of water. Sweet satisfaction and a sense of accomplishment for the Canoga Creek.

A Perfect April Day: Repost from "Ramblings.."

Long story, but a helluva day:

April 26 - opening day of turkey in PA. Paul and I met at prospectors at 4:00am and headed to weaver. Original plan was to stalk the monster bird at the nursery, but one of Paul's co-workers "claimed" the spot first. No way he shoots that bird - we'll get 'em later this season...

The morning started off with a long walk to the back of the weaver property, a little over a mile. Unfortunately, the property is bordered on all sides by private land and some jackass had driven his truck through the woods and parked it, literally, right on our spot - the exact spot where I'd shot a huge bird a few years ago. So Paul and I sat down about 150 yards away and decided to wait and hear how the morning started before changing positions. This genius in the truck proceeds to walk right toward us in the dark - we whistle at him and he changes direction, but sits down about 60 yards away, just inside the new exclosure. These guys are asking to be shot. We tried to relax and just see how things would go - it was too late to change position without screwing up that whole side of the property.

As light came the song birds started around 5:30 and were in full swing at 5:45. 6:00 came and brought with it the first gobble - it would be the first of many. There were at least three birds, just over the hill, inside the exclosure. For the next 40 minutes they must have gobbled 60 times. One would sound off and the others would gobble right behind him, four, five, six gobbles on top of each other. We thought something might materialize and sat still, guns ready and waited, listening to the horrible calling of the jackass down the hill. Two hens came over the hill, but the jakes wouldn't make the trip - they headed away from us and the gobbling stopped. Did a big boy finally stake his claim and send the jakes running?

After sitting tight for a while we decided to move - a slow walk along the fence finally proved fruitful as we heard the same rally of gobbles from the back corner of the property - maybe 500 yards in front of us. We got as close as we could and set up along the fence. The birds were inside the fence and we had a nice knob between us so we set up paul's decoy on the fence line, I set up in the brush to call, and paul sat against a tree with his gun trained. We thought the birds (if they came) would come around the contour of the knob, but instead (yeah, they came) they ran right up over the top of the knob directly at us. I never saw them, but paul said the first bird crested the hill and stopped, the second bird came over the top and did a double-take at paul - one eye, two eye, "yep, that doesn't look good," and he bolted. Paul let two shots go in hopes of knocking one down, but to not avail; we watched as the two of them flew away. He was kicking himself a bit, but there was nothing else to do except watch them run away - fine decision. The only bad part was he didn't quite get the gun shouldered before firing and his bicep was killing him the rest of the day.

It was pretty late in the morning by now so we circled the property boundary for another 3/4 mile and found a nice ridge to take a nap on. Slept for 30 minutes or so until I found a couple ticks on me and got us back up moving. The plan was to stick to the property boundary and hit a couple known hang-outs on our way back to the truck. Coming up on the back of white pine corner a gobble halted us - 100yards. We dropped to the ground and donned the camo - that was close. After a quick discussion we decided I'd be the shooter - I crawled on my stomach up to a small ridge and slowly peeked over, gun leading. After only a second I saw a bird - big, dark body; bright red and blue head: A Gobbler, and a big one. He was headed to the right so in the quick moments as he was hidden behind trees and brush I readjusted and waited. A couple of those moves later I noticed the bird wasn't alone - there was another one, equally big, and closer, back to my left. I readjusted on this one, but he was headed right as well. Couple putts and some leaf scratching managed to turn him back left. They were moving closer, but they were nervous - maybe they had been screwed with earlier that day, or last season. The bird in my sights was staring hard at me - one move to the left and he would be in a clear line of sight. He moved left. And here's where my long day of fishing the day before screwed me - I'd forgotten my turkey choke. The modified choke in my barrel spread my 4 shot too thin - the bird was gone before I could even reload a shell. The other bird wasn't so lucky. I swung right and shot...missed, but lifted the bird into the air. Another pot shot did nothing to stop his flight. Fortunately, the bird was flying directly over Paul. He rose and unloaded, knocking that bird out of the air - DEAD BIRD!! Not pretty, but successful. And to think, if I'd had my proper choke, there would be two birds. Won't make that mistake again...

20lbs, 9.5" beard, 1 1/8" spurs. Real nice bird. Had some of it grilled up this evening at Pauls house while entertaining his boys. Can't wait to get back out during the week when all the bozos are sleeping or at work.

When I got home, Ben and I headed to Penns. We'd had some serious action on the stream the previous night and couldn't wait to repeat. We stopped in at feathered hook first to figure things out - turns out we had likely witnessed trout gorging themselves on rusty spinners (dead BWOs and Hendricksons). We spent a few bucks on flies and headed out. A long walk down from tunnel road and nymphed until about 5:30. I caught one and then took a nap in the sun on the bank...long day. Ben nymphed the whole afternoon and didn't catch squat - that is the worst. And I figured I'd make it worse by hooking a rising fish he'd been trying to catch on my first catch. Luckily I didn't land it.

We were stalling, trying to catch the few rising fish we could see and wait for the witching hour when the spinners would start...maybe 7? Maybe 7:15. We made it until about 6:15 when the gathering, black clouds finally made us decide to give up and head back to the car. About halfway back it hit - strong winds and a downpour; we were soaked in a huge thunderstorm. Great, though, to be in the woods and on the stream with Ben during a wild storm, drenched and happy. Dinner at the Red Horse topped off the day. Not bad to start off turkey season and spring trout :)

Cast n' Blast Weekend

Not a bad weekend. Spent Friday on the famous Pere Marquette River out of Baldwin Michigan fishing for Steelhead. Although we got chased off the river a couple times due to nasty thunder/lightning storms, it was a great day on the river. We hooked into several steelhead and landed a few including the one pictured.

Had dedicated Saturday and Sunday to bagging my first, self guided, turkey. While the story of this years harvest isn't as spectacular as last years, its just a memorable. Worked several roosting goobler this morning, with several working close, but not close enough. Unfortunately, birds just quit talking after 7 am, which made things more difficult. Switched locations in the afternoon, which seemed to have less hunting pressure. Set up my blind and decoys around 11:45 and sat quiet until 1. Had a hen work in behind me, but had no suitors in tow. After she vacated the area I made a few yelps on the slate and then shut up. About 1:30 I thought I notice something red about 60 yds down the hill from where I'd set up. And then it moved! Here comes a Tom!! Since it was slightly down him from my location it was tough to see at times and I had to stand up in the blind to tell if it was still there. It was, but it wasn't all that active, and didn't seem to notice the decoys. Should I call or shouldn't I, I debated this for a while. The real birds were less than 30 yards from the decoys. I thought they could see them for sure. Finally gave in and made a few soft yelps on the slate. It wasn't long and I notice the bird coming up hill toward the deecs. Next I knew there were 3 red, white and blue heads coming up the hill! 3 Jakes! They worked right in and check out the decoys, but stayed bunched up so I couldn't shoot without taking all 3. They eventually moved toward another set of decoys I'd set up and spread out enough where I could take a shot. The middle bird got a taste of Mr. Benelli and the Winchester Supreme Turkey Loads. With a 15 yard shot the bird dropped on the spot! Lots of lesson learned this turkey season, but it ended successfully.

My next posts should be from the Dark Continent. Leave May 9. Back June 10. Kiddies go home on June 5. Plan to do some Francolin hunting June 6, 7, and maybe June 8.

Til then

Safari Jim

Wet-wading...not on purpose

Thanks for the invite to the blog, guys. And in my first post, I will embarrass myself further and publicly:

Rich came into town last week for a defense and a few meetings. We squeezed in our meeting Friday morning...on Spring Creek, of course. Caddis and BWO coming off and we managed to pull in a few. Rich came with stealhead flies (only thing in the vest after the Salmon River?) and after a good hour of nymphing was interested in borrowing a couple dries from me. Being the good host that I am, I decided to leave the hole I was fishing (despite having caught 4 on the surface in a matter of minutes) to deliver the bug-o'-the-day: a griffith's gnat. Somehow, on my way to the bank I managed to find the most slippery rock in spring creek which led to the deepest hole upstream of Bellefonte. Yep, I went in - right up to my chin. Despite the warm weather we've been having, that water was freakin' cold!! My phone went through a few fits but seems to be no worse for the wear. First time I've ever gone in like that and I had to do it on the smallest, most tame stream around -- with people watching. Figures.

And I feel obligated in my first post here to fashion a haiku about the experience:

Hooky on a stream;
Trout rise to a buggy fly.
Sharing leads to bath.

Wily woodcocks wrangle wet worms: or, why they're called bogsuckers

Mr. Mike (the ORIGINAL Mr. Mike) asked me to post the following video from his blog. Enjoy.