iDoHunting.com: Southwest Wisconsin Turkey Report

Late season tags are the temptation of every good turkey hunter that I know of. By this point of the season, we’ve all had our chances, been there - done that. Turkey season for some has come and gone, but for the remaining crazies that disregard such things as sleep, work, or a growing list of projects, late season hunting can be a great way to extend your opportunities. That’s especially true if you didn’t get very many of these the first few go-rounds. Though hunter success rates start to plummet as you move into mid-May, there are still plenty of birds to be had. You just might have to work harder to find the right ones. That said; just because you find the right ones, doesn’t mean you’ll always kill them. So it was for fellow IDO Hunting member Pat Howard (gutone4me) and myself as we set off in search of a pair of late-season gobblers in Southwest Wisconsin this past weekend.

Playing Possum

Pat and I have a problem with turkey hunting, that being we can never get enough. It also must mean we’re perpetual optimists, and thus, gluttons for punishment. Who else would continue to chase these birds in high winds and hot weather? In searching for a turkey hunting buddy, I couldn’t have picked someone better. Few of us are complete turkey hunters, myself being no exception. Where I drop the ball, he can pick it up, especially on his home turf. There were a number of times where each of us added a crucial element to the scouting, hunting, calling, and shooting of our favorite game bird. I can imitate a fighting purr on a mouth call, he can kee-kee with the best of them. I like shorter/louder calling sequences, he calls a bit softer with more notes. The comparisons, and differences, are endless, but the net result is a lot of combined turkey wisdom hitting the woods all at once. Surely they wouldn’t stand a chance. This would be fast and easy. I was even dumb enough to bring some fishing rods.

Four Huge Morels!

Our first morning in the “bullpen” (think literally, not baseball-related) found Pat and I hustling up a pasture while keeping an eye or two peeled for the owner of the cowpies I was constantly stepping in. Wind was in the forecast, but the morning broke with only a breeze, and the gobbling was incessant…..across the road that is. So we went after them, never tracking down the birds that made all that noise, until the wind really started to whip. The afternoon hunt was much of the same, with birds that didn’t talk at all to us. Easy my dirty left foot. The next morning found the wind a bit more subdued, but the results were a carbon copy of the previous day’s. That was until we went after what looked like two lone toms strutting on a field-edge. We were able to sneak within 100 yards of what proved to be several birds, none of which seemed all that interested in our calling, and one of which thought it was very similar to the sound of fingernails on a chalkboard. We later found out that other hunters had killed 5 longbeards from that property.

The Wettest A Turkey Has Ever Been

The next day continued with much of the same until we finally struck an interested bird or two just before dark. We repositioned on him after a false-start, and two booming gobblers came out of a wooded hillside to our open field location. Not being able to see a pair of longbeards that were only 30 yards away could be one of the more frustrating experiences a turkey hunter faces, but even after they worked away we were able to call them back again. It was not to be, but we still had one more morning sit in-order. Of-course those birds wouldn’t play either. That is, until a hen flew down into our setup. Sometimes a stroke of luck can be the game-changer, and 3 longbeards came walking 35 yards across our face. Pat kee-keed, and the rest I couldn’t do justice if I tried to recall it. Birds were flopping, legs were kicking, feathers were flying, guns were jamming, shots were fired, and a wounded bird was finished off 30 seconds after the mayhem first ensued. My bird died underwater of all places after a short chase into a swamp, and Pat killed his properly and outright. The net result was two eleventh-hour gobblers for two happy hunters that are still in kind of a daze wondering how it all happened so fast, when everything the entire weekend seemed to go so slow. Patience and endurance were the name of this game, and I’m proud of the fact that we kept at it despite birds that were simply not interested in our calling. There’s more than one way to kill a gobbler, and though I’m not sure I’d call this one of those ways, you take them when you can get them, and realize that it’s penance-performed for all of the quick-hunts you’ve enjoyed the previous weeks and months.

Joel